#or in a don’t know if the feelings are requited so friends is good

[ijustwannabecool]

I love the way you write soft! Max so much. Would you write max and best friend reader who’s been in love with him for years but it’s one sided, until he realizes after she’s starting to date other people that he is in love with her?

Late Realizations

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

Summary…You’ve loved Max for years. Quietly. Completely. When you finally start dating someone else, he realizes—too late—that he might’ve been in love with you the whole time. But love, if it's real, always finds its way home.

Warnings: Unrequited love (turned requited), jealousy, emotional tension, soft heartbreak, cursing, comfort, fluff, past almost-kiss

A/N: I hope I did the story justice and that you enjoy it! Thank you for your request, it meant the world to me. Happy reading and have a beautiful day :)

Like, reblog, and comment :)

----

You’ve always known where you stand with Max.

Right beside him.

Not behind. Not in front. Just beside.

It started like this:

You were nine. He was ten. You were the new girl at the track, tagging along with your older cousin who karted on weekends. You were trying to tie your shoelaces and stay out of the way when a boy crashed into you—literally.

His kart spun out. Your laces weren’t even tied.

“Shit!” he’d yelled, hopping out and brushing gravel off his arm. You were crying. He froze, wide-eyed. “Don’t cry! Are you—are you okay?”

You nodded, barely.

He blinked. Then scrambled to pull something from his pocket: a tiny, squished chocolate bar.

“Here,” he said, shoving it into your hand. “Don’t cry. I’ll get in trouble.”

It was the worst peace offering. You took it anyway.

You saw him again a week later. Then again. And again. Until he started waiting for you by the snack cart. Until his dad learned your name. Until you became the girl Max always talked about.

Somewhere between shared ice creams and races watched from behind fences, you became friends.

Somewhere after that, you fell in love with him.

——

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝑫𝒂𝒚 — 𝒀/𝑵’𝒔𝑷𝑶𝑽

You set your phone down slowly after sending the text.

Date tonight. 7:30. Wish me luck?

You hadn’t planned on telling Max. It’s just dinner with someone from the gym. A guy with a charming smile and average conversation skills. But it feels… momentous.

The first real step forward in years.

You stare at the screen, waiting. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Finally:

Max 🦁: Why are you going out with him?

Not good luck or have fun. Just that.

You sigh. You don’t reply.

You leave the apartment in a soft dress and your favorite lipstick—the one Max once said made you look like a movie star. Your hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel the whole way there.

You wonder, as you park, if he’s still thinking about it. If he cares.

——

You don’t expect the flood of messages midway through dinner:

Max 🦁: Did you lock the balcony door? Do you think your spare charger’s still in my travel bag? What’s that restaurant we went to after Spa? The one with the weird lights?

You stare at the screen, heart thudding. He’s never needed this much attention. Not like this. Not from you. Not all at once.

And then your phone lights up again.

Incoming call: Max 🦁

You excuse yourself, heart in your throat.

“Max? What’s going on?”

A pause.

“I’m at your place,” he says. “My ceiling light’s not working. Can I borrow your toolbox?”

You blink. “…It’s not.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Another pause. A breath. “No. But I didn’t know who else to call.”

Your voice is softer than it should be. “I’ll be home soon.”

And you are.

——

You don’t talk about it. You never do. But when he’s sitting next to you later, watching some rerun in silence, you feel it building. The thing you’ve always avoided naming.

You glance at him. His arms crossed tightly. His jaw clenched.

“You okay?” you ask.

He nods without looking. “Yeah.”

But his voice sounds like no.

You don’t push. You just lean back into the couch and watch the glow of the screen dance across both your faces.

And you wonder—how much longer you can keep pretending this doesn’t hurt.

——

Max’s POV — The Realisation

It hits him on a Tuesday.

He’s mid-sim training, watching old data, and something feels off. The rhythm’s wrong. His head’s not in it.

He pulls off the headset. Stares blankly at the screen.

His mind wanders—to your laugh, your handwriting on his fridge notes, your perfume lingering in his car. Your stupid, charming date.

He remembers your hand brushing his in the grocery store two weeks ago. How he felt it for hours after.

He remembers Monaco. The almost-kiss. How his heart beat out of sync for days.

He remembers last night. You sitting on his couch, too quiet.

And suddenly, it clicks.

Oh.

He’s in love with you.

Has been. For longer than he wants to admit.

He fucked it up.

And now?

You might be moving on.

He bolts upright.

He can’t let that happen.

Not without trying.

Not without telling you first.

——

He tries. He really does.

He sees you again three days later, standing at the paddock hospitality with your sunglasses pushed up into your hair and your arms crossed as you laugh at something Charles says.

Max doesn’t like it. At all.

He walks up. You smile like nothing’s changed. Like you don’t notice the chaos beneath his skin.

“Hey, stranger,” you tease. “Did your light survive the week?”

He forces a laugh. “Barely.”

Charles raises a brow, watching the exchange like a hawk. He knows. Of course he knows.

“So,” Max says casually, trying to sound unaffected, “any more dates lined up?”

You pause. Not because you’re caught off guard, but because you’re deciding how honest to be.

“Maybe,” you say, voice light. “There’s this guy who works with the F2 team. Nice smile. Very single.”

Max’s jaw twitches.

Charles coughs into his drink, trying not to laugh.

You don’t mean it to be cruel. But Max feels it like a punch anyway.

He doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, heart hammering.

You’re slipping away from him. Slowly. Quietly.

And he’s the one who left the door open.

——

It’s late. Quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with something unsaid.

You’re both in his kitchen, after a long evening—just the two of you. You came over to borrow a jacket for a costume party, but stayed for wine, leftover pasta, and some old F1 replays you always pretend to care about.

Max is sitting on the counter, legs swinging gently. You’re across from him, barefoot, in one of his oversized hoodies.

The kind of night that used to feel normal. Effortless.

But now, there’s tension in the air. A weight behind every glance.

You’re laughing softly at a story he’s telling, one you’ve heard before but still love. And then—

You both go quiet at the same time.

The pause stretches. You look at him. He looks at you.

It feels like Monaco. Again.

His eyes flick to your lips.

Yours don’t move.

“Max,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You’re not sure what you were going to say. It’s stuck in your throat.

He leans in slightly. Just enough to test the air. His knees brush yours.

You lean in too—barely—but he feels it. Feels the shift.

“Why haven’t you ever…” you trail off.

He looks at you, eyes wide. Vulnerable.

“I was scared,” he admits. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

You nod slowly. “And now?”

Max swallows hard. “Now I think I’m losing you anyway.”

It’s too much. You look down. You stand up. Break the moment before it breaks you.

“I should go,” you say, voice too soft.

Max doesn’t stop you.

Not yet.

But he will.

——

Flashback — Monaco, 2019

The suite was quiet, the champagne buzz soft behind his temples. Max had just finished a round of interviews, still riding the high of the podium. His hair was damp from the shower, his voice low and tired.

You were curled into the couch in his hotel hoodie, legs folded beneath you, mascara slightly smudged from laughing too hard an hour ago. He remembers that moment too vividly—how peaceful you looked. How close.

You’d been teasing him, saying you were going to steal his last protein bar if he didn’t stop winning.

He laughed. And then he looked at you.

Really looked.

The lighting was warm. Your lips were pink from the wine. You weren’t saying anything. You were just… smiling at him. Eyes soft.

He leaned forward. Slowly. Testing the air between you.

You didn’t move away. Your lips parted just barely. Your hand was resting close to his thigh. Too close.

And then—

His phone buzzed.

Loud. Jarring. A reminder.

You blinked, pulled back first.

“It’s late,” you whispered, standing. “We should sleep.”

He never reached for you again after that.

But he never forgot it.

——

Max’s POV — The Confession

He shows up at your door like he’s done it a thousand times.

Except this time, it’s different. He’s not coming to borrow sugar. He’s not here to drop off race merch you forgot at his flat. He’s here to undo years of silence.

You open the door, eyebrows raised. “Hey. What’s up?”

Max doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightens, then relaxes. He looks like a man on the edge of something big.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

You step aside. “Of course.”

You expect him to sit. He doesn’t. He stands in your living room like he’s holding his breath.

“I need to tell you something,” he says. “And I need you to just… let me say it.”

You nod. Slowly. Carefully.

Max rubs the back of his neck. “That night in Monaco. You remember?”

Your heart skips. You nod again.

“I was going to kiss you,” he says. “I wanted to. More than anything. And I didn’t. I let it go because I thought if I crossed that line, I’d lose you.”

He steps closer.

“And then I watched you go on dates with guys who don’t know your coffee order. Who don’t know your favorite movie or that you cry when you see baby ducks.”

You laugh wetly, one hand covering your mouth.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Max says. “And I think I was just too stupid—or too scared—to admit it. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want it to be me.”

You don’t say anything. You just stare at him, eyes glassy.

“I know I’m late,” he whispers. “But if there’s even a chance… please. Let me catch up.”

He finally takes a breath.

And waits.

——

You don’t speak right away.

You just stare at him, eyes stinging, throat tight, heart beating somewhere near your ears.

Of course, you remember Monaco.

You remember everything. The way he looked at you. The breath you held when he leaned in. The disappointment that lingered for days when he didn’t close the space.

You remember convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

It always did.

You wrap your arms around yourself like a shield. “Do you know how long I waited for you to say that?”

Max blinks, startled.

You laugh, and it’s watery. “I used to practice it, you know? In the mirror. What I’d say if you ever told me you loved me.”

His voice is soft. “And what would you say?”

“I don’t remember the exact words,” you admit. “But I remember the feeling. That maybe, someday, you’d show up and say everything I was too scared to believe.”

Max steps closer, eyes searching yours. “I’ve been talking myself out of this for years. Every time I looked at you, I felt it. And then I’d hear myself say ‘best friend’ and convince myself that was safer.”

You nod slowly, tears threatening to spill. “I thought if I ever said anything, it would ruin us. But not saying it… ruined me too.”

There’s silence for a second, then Max reaches for your hand.

“I thought maybe if I kept you close, I’d never lose you. But I did lose you, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

“Almost,” you whisper. “You almost did.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“You were always there, Max,” you continue. “But you were never mine. And I wanted to be yours. I wanted to be the person you called first, the hand you held in front of the world.”

“You are,” he says, voice cracking. “I just didn’t let myself believe I could have you.”

You finally step into his arms.

He holds you tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“You’re late,” you whisper again, resting your head against his chest.

“But I’m here,” he breathes. “I’m finally here.”

——

You sit on the couch together, a blanket thrown over your legs, two mugs of tea long forgotten on the table. It’s quiet—not the kind of silence that’s awkward, but the kind that hums with something new. Something tentative. Sacred.

Max looks over at you. “So… are we?”

You tilt your head. “Are we what?”

He flushes slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “Together. Like, officially. Do I get to call you mine now?”

You smile, slow and soft. “Only if I get to call you mine too.”

His grin breaks through. It’s the kind of smile that makes your stomach twist and your heart finally relax.

“You always could’ve,” he says.

You nudge him with your knee. “You’re unbearable.”

“Unbearably in love with you,” he quips.

You groan. “Okay, we’re dating, but don’t get cocky.”

He leans in, forehead to yours. “No promises.”

——

Epilogue — The Finally

It happens at a dinner in Monaco. One of those post-race gatherings that’s half celebration, half chaos. The whole crew’s there—Charles, Lando, Daniel, Lily, Kelly. Even Christian drops by for a minute before getting pulled into a conversation about tires.

You’re tucked beside Max at the end of the table, his hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your jeans.

You’ve never done this before. Not like this. Not with the world watching.

Daniel’s halfway through a story about a disastrous prank on Yuki when someone asks—point blank.

“So… are you two finally together or what?” It’s Charles, grinning like he already knows the answer.

The table goes still. All eyes shift to you.

Max squeezes your knee.

You smile, fingers intertwining with his. “Yeah,” you say simply. “We are.”

The reaction is immediate and chaotic.

“FINALLY!” Lando groans, dropping his head to the table.

“I told you!” Lily shouts, pointing a victorious finger at Daniel.

Kelly’s eyes glisten as she reaches for your hand. “You two were always meant to be. We all saw it.”

“About time,” Charles mutters, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Daniel just whistles. “I lost money on this happening before 2022. You owe me, mate.”

Max laughs—really laughs, the sound full and warm—and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Told you they’d lose their minds.”

You beam, resting your head on his shoulder. “Worth the wait?”

He turns his face, presses a kiss to your temple.

“The best thing I’ve ever waited for.”

You stay like that for a moment, tucked into him as the people you love most celebrate what they’ve known all along.

That you and Max? You were never just friends.

You were always heading here. Together.

——

The party is long over. The voices, the laughter, the clinking glasses—they’ve all faded into memories wrapped in candlelight.

Now, it’s just the two of you.

You wake to the soft rustle of sheets and sunlight slipping through the linen curtains of Max’s apartment. His arm is around your waist, his nose pressed into your shoulder. He’s still asleep, breathing even and slow, like this is the first real rest he’s had in days.

You turn slowly, careful not to wake him.

But he stirs anyway, lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you with that sleep-hazed softness you secretly adore.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Hi,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.

He tightens his hold, pulling you a little closer. “You stayed.”

“I always used to stay,” you say softly.

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes. “But this is different now, isn’t it?”

You nod. “It is.”

Max shifts onto his side, propping himself up with one elbow. “I want to do this right,” he says. “Not just the dinners and kisses. I mean… really be with you. Wake up next to you. Make coffee with you. Go to races knowing you’re mine.”

You smile, heart warm and full. “Then let’s do it right.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Start today?”

“Start now,” you say, pulling him down into a kiss.

The rest of the world can wait.

This moment—this soft, unhurried, long-awaited beginning—is yours.

——

A/N: As I said earlier, I hope I did your story justice and that you enjoyed it. If you have any more requests please feel free to send them my way. I can't wait to see what you guys send my way and what we can create together. Have a beautiful day today and I hope this brings you joy (:

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ signs that you're mine ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous & @daruderuyoo ˚₊ ⊹

ft. mysta rias, ike eveland, luca kaneshiro, shu yamino, vox akuma (separate) x f! reader — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ yandere luxiem courting their sweetest, most oblivious darling┊2k words

contains: yandere!! obsessive/possessive behaviors, stalking, delusional behavior on behalf of the boys, reader is an oblivious sweetheart, mentions of murder, written kinda like the step after realizing feelings but the step before being officially romantically linked, super rambly writing sorry, I lost the plot

➤ author's note: this is so fucking bad, excuses listed below if you care, but I will not be stopped, wilson & zali brat-taming soon!!

oh god, he adores you so much he doesn’t even know what to do with himself, like a devout saint worshipping a goddess— or in this case, a filthy sinner begging a deity for forgiveness. you’re the sweetest little thing he wants to sink his teeth in until they rot. you’re cuter than a bunny, and he can’t help but want to cage you up and hide you away for his eyes only. everything about you drives him mad, your pouty smile, the way your lashes flutter, the way your hair bounces when you turn your head in his direction, the way you call out his name like a melody, the way you’re so stupidly oblivious that you don’t even notice his concerning behavior. 

are you as stupid as you lead him to believe when you have him on a leash waiting to answer your every command? are you playing him like a fiddle and stringing him along? are you secretly relishing in the attention he gives you and feel the same way he does, just too shy to admit it? there are several instances he could list off the top of his head where there were lingering touches whenever your skin met, eye contact that lasted seconds too long to be friendly, times where you became flustered at the little things he did, times where you ignored his extreme jealousy towards anyone who took your attention off of him and brushed off how he knew information that you never told him because you never realized he was stalking you— 

surely, with all these little details adding up and how deep your bond is, there was some semblance of feelings that were requited? maybe not as extreme as his were, but they must exist, right? as angelic as you were in both beauty and personality, you haven’t dated anyone once he was in your life, so it must mean you were waiting for him to properly court you and eventually get married (just ignore that any man or woman who has shown even an ounce of romantic interest in you soon vanished without a trace). maybe “courting” is a bit of a dated term, but he’s a traditional man from the past who believes that you deserve much more than the modern sense of dating. he planned to show you what it means to be adored as you deserve, even if you’re too oblivious to understand his intentions, he’ll make certain that you become his as he is yours.

━━━ .°˖✧ mysta rias ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ gift giving, lots of gift giving because he’s awful with words. this man is a detective and stalks you intensively from your day-to-day life to your social media accounts, allowing him to have a good idea of what you like and don’t like. you’ll frequently find him handing you a bag filled with glittery tissue paper or a neatly wrapped box, opening it to find something that you had been wanting for any period of time between yesterday and years ago. maybe it’s that book you’ve always wanted to read or a figure of your favorite character or lip glosses from a small business whose tiktok you liked a week ago, he always finds something you’d want even if you didn’t know you did.

╰₊✧ slowly, these gifts become more expensive in price and more valuable in rarity. being a world-famous detective comes with its perks, and what else was he going to do with the money if not to spoil his darling? the things he presented you weren’t simple things friends gave to each other, they were diamond necklaces, gold bracelets, emerald earrings, luxury beauty products, brand-name clothes, designer handbags, and dozens of other things that made you look ten times more extravagant than you actually were. he always insisted that you wore something he bought you whenever he saw you, which was every single day at this point. something about you wearing whatever he bought you, especially if it was flashy and ridiculously costly, made him possessive and prideful knowing that he was obviously the one who got you it. it made you look like his girl even if you stupidly still weren’t aware of his feelings yet, making everyone assume that you two were an item.

╰₊✧ you’ll finally get the hint when you’re gifted a golden ring that highly resembles one given in engagement proposals, surprised and wide-eyed with how he caught you off guard. if you accept him, then that’s fantastic! if not, then expect to wake up in his basement where no one will ever find you again because a great detective never leaves any loose ends.

━━━ .°˖✧ ike eveland ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ notebook followed by notebook followed by notebook of love poems, writing out his feelings with you in slightly erratic handwriting with every metaphor and rhyme in the english and swedish language. his adoration for you can be overwhelming at times, so writing becomes an outlet to calm him down and prevent him from doing anything drastic due to his strong emotions like flat-out kidnapping you. most of it stays hidden away in his study, but a few of them that he’s particularly proud of and finds to explain his feelings perfectly always mysteriously find their way into your bag.

╰₊✧ the kind of euphoria he gets when you squeal excitedly about the new letter from your “secret admirer” is indescribable, and he always has a little dopey smile that you never notice when you read out the romantic words. your voice spelling out his poetry sounds like a choir of angels and the flattered smile on your face is like seeing the pearly gates of heaven (you’re always compared to an angel in some way in his works, it just seems to be the most fitting in his mind). you won’t realize that it’s him until there’s a little slip-up of a reference that only the two of you know, which he’s extremely embarrassed about and may need a day or two to recover from it because the last thing he wants is for you to know that he’s a creep.

╰₊✧ will eventually arrive on your doorstep with origami paper roses made from his poems to ask you to be his. he’ll make it impossible to say no, not with the look of pure adoration in his eyes and heart-wrenching sincerity in his words. the entire thing is so picture-perfect and straight out of a film, you’ll find yourself agreeing with him before you even realize it. 

━━━ .°˖✧ luca kaneshiro ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ oh, you would never think that this sweet, gold-retriever-like best friend of a man would be capable of doing anything that would negatively affect you! and in a way, you’re correct! he has his goons do all the dirty work for him, scaring or even killing anyone who shows even an ounce of romantic interest in you or who he feels takes away too much of your attention from him. then he picks up the pieces of comforting you when you come to him crying about how you don’t know what you did wrong to deserve so many people leaving you so suddenly.

╰₊✧not him though, never him! he would never leave you for anything, especially not while you’re sobbing and sniffling into his shirt’s fabric and especially not while you’re confiding in him in your most vulnerable moments. luca probably hasn’t even realized how horribly manipulative he is by being the only one you can turn to in times of need and making you completely dependent on him, he just loves the feeling of holding you in his arms while wiping away your tears and doing all the typical boyfriend things to help you feel better!

╰₊✧ when you’re forced into a corner like that, it’s almost inevitable that you will start catching feelings for the boy who’s been sticking with you through all the ups and downs. it’s absolutely perfect for him, having you cling onto him like a lifeline just as he’s been discreetly doing with you. he’ll spoil you rotten with everything you’ll ever want, you’ll just have to ask for it, and you’ll never need anything in life every again (expect, maybe freedom from his suffocating protectiveness, but you haven’t realized you needed it yet).

━━━ .°˖✧ shu yamino ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ perhaps the most normal boy on this list when it comes to courting, he doesn’t do anything excessive or takes advantage of his powers (although using a love potion would be the quickest and most effective method if he really wanted to). he wants the process of you falling for him to be organic and natural, the best friends to lovers trope he’s dreamed about where he pins for the girl of his dreams and you realize your feelings for him as the sweet boy who’s always been there for you. he’s fully aware that this path is painfully slow because you are as dense as a rock, but he knows it will make the victory of finally having you as his girlfriend so much sweeter. 

╰₊✧ he frequently buys you gifts like flowers, chocolates, perfume, and all the other typical things a guy should gift his girl. he frequently takes you out on little “dates” at the arcade or bowling center or ice skating rink. he frequently compliments you and makes you smile. he doesn’t go too overboard with it, but it’s enough for others close to you to gush about what a gentleman he is for making you feel so treasured. you don’t notice, but you do feel a decent amount of pressure from them to hurry up and accept him as your boyfriend because someone else would happily swoop in to steal him for themselves if you don’t!

╰₊✧ over the moon when you finally ask him out! he can sense that you’re nervous about it, but don’t worry, he’s more than determined to be the best lover you’ve ever had or ever will have. the honeymoon phase will never leave your relationship, nor will his obsession. 

━━━ .°˖✧ vox akuma ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ honestly, this demon would skip the pleasantries and might flat-out kidnap you, which isn’t as difficult as it sounds when you’re as sweet as you are. he gives you your own space and lets you seek him out instead, exploring his home with all the traditional furniture and ancient little artifacts casually sitting in plain sight. you’re a curious little thing and often ask about them, which gives you a stronger bond with his demonic and therefore more vulnerable side. this connection is highly important to him as he only shares it with people he trusts (which in the modern world, can be counted on one hand), so his intense love for you is heightened even more.

╰₊✧ similar to luca, he likes to get rid of people he deems unworthy because of you, usually ex-partners or people being too nosy about your whereabouts since he’s taken you. unlike luca, he enjoys the thrill of getting his hands dirty with their blood as if he’s doing you a favor by removing them from the face of the earth. since you’re so isolated at this little “extended sleepover,” you don’t know anything about it and simply go about your day looking for things to do to keep yourself busy in his captivity. when you start whining about how you miss your friends and family, he’ll allow you to go out only if you allow him to tag along or answer his calls or texts as soon as you possibly can. it sounds easy at first, but he’s always lingering two steps behind you or blowing up your phone every two minutes. it’s nothing, you tell them, he’s just protective like that because of how ditzy you can be sometimes!

╰₊✧ skips the dating stage, he wants to tie the knot as soon as possible and is more than happy to organize the wedding of your dreams no matter how expensive it may seem while you invite whomever you want to watch your love be immortalized. however, if you refuse him, then he’ll just have a private ceremony on his terms since you only really need two for a marriage!!

requests are as followed:

Thanks for answering my previous question🥹 you can ignore this request if you feel uncomfortable🙇‍♀️ can I request yandere Luxiem with oblivious and sweet fem reader who seem ignore their red flags🤔

How would yandere luxiem go about courting? (If you still do yandere)

this was supposed to be for valentine's and I'm only posting it now?? so sorry, I had a bunch of tests and then a rental property burned down and then i relapsed, but god himself will not be stopping me from writing fanfiction so i will continue to claw and bite at the ankles of everything preventing me from writing

love you all!!

[elsecrytt]

Your Heart is Spilling out, Babe

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Summary: You and Satoru are friends with benefits. No feelings, that was the agreement from the start. Neither of you want anything more. Even if you did, it wouldn’t work out, anyways. Not that you care if it would.

Tags: fwb, smut, angst, YEARNING, requited unrequited feelings (or ARE they) but jk it’s totally no feelings, commitment/abandonment issues, not that it matters because you totally don’t have feelings anyways

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” He asks, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

A hum. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” he lays down next to you, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

You don’t say anything more, eyes already closed.

Satoru’s arm presses your form against his, just barely.

When he wakes up, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

He leaves.

At first, Satoru tries to tell himself it’s a happy coincidence.

After all, isn’t it? His problem has always been the women (and men) who give him a certain kind of look before he gets up to leave.

The ones who text him back first, who read everything instantly, who always want to meet up again. The ones who always, inevitably, start to want something more.

Like him giving them the fuck of a lifetime with someone who could be a real-life supermodel and happens to be the greatest sorcerer on earth wasn’t enough. Granted, they don’t know about the sorcerer thing, but still!

It always turns out like this:

Things are good for a while. Sex is good, he gets attention when he texts them, they both understand this is totally casual, no commitment.

Sometimes he even brings up another hookup he’s going to, just to drive the point home, and he cheers them on when they’re getting some somewhere else, too.

(He’s got no reason to be insecure, after all. He would be anyone’s first choice.)

From there, he can admit some of it is his fault. It’s hard, being as irresistible as he is. Being so devastatingly good-looking and even better in bed.

Having so much humor and personality in his amazing texts (never mind that most of them just react with an emoji or a short haha or an unrelated compliment – he drinks it all up just the same).

They start to text him first, which is impressive, considering what a spammer he is. He likes to text them to fill his time, to talk to someone, have his notifications filled with messages of people who want him.

So what if it’s an ego boost? Isn’t that what they’re using him for, too?

But when they start texting him themselves, when they return his style of badgering, it’s not random and rambling. It’s affectionate, personal. They’ve gotten attached, and they want him to be, too.

It’s all nonsense like Saw this and thought of you, and You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and I want to meet up again soon.

He has to stop spamming with memes or selfies or random observations throughout his day, stop talking about shops or cafes he’d like to visit. Sometimes he has to mute their notifications, because when he spams other people, they feel comfortable spamming him.

And then it’s just a matter of how long he spends lying to himself. Because as much of an ass as he is, it’s cruel to let them get attached to him when he can’t really open up entirely. When he doesn’t want anything serious.

In fairness, he had told them from the start. He usually breaks it off only after a few days. He always sends them a message and just blocks them – it’s cleaner that way.

Answering any desperate Please, we can still be friends or No, let’s just hook up again, would give them hope for things he can’t give them.

But you?

You text him You’re the most annoying man I’ve ever met, and leave him on read for two days.

Satoru thinks he’s in love.

Not literally, of course, but in love with the relationship he has with you, which is perfect.

Everything about it is perfect, except for that it’s not going on all the time.

You respond to his memes with your own. Chat with him about cafes and desserts and even keep a handful at your home to treat him with. You text him cat pictures, sometimes return selfies if he’s lucky.

Usually he gets those when he sends the thirst pics, sitting there with a grin that scares Ichiji, absolutely giddy as he watches you type, stop typing – he knows you’re looking for something special to send him back.

It’s surprising, how well he just knows things about you. Maybe that was to be expected, though, with your chemistry.

Sex with you is like nothing he’s ever felt before.

You have this way of tensing up, expression shifting as you’re right about to cum – he thinks by now he’s conditioned by it, that just seeing you make that face could get him over the edge.

He’s fucked hot people before but no one like you. Seeing the same clothes from your cute little selfies slip off, it’s like unwrapping a present he can’t wait to eat up. Makes him salivate like a box of chocolates, like the one truffle package you got one time and made him eat on his knees with his head in your lap, out of your hands.

Fucking you is one of his favorite things ever, right up there with kikufuku and making fun of his coworkers (and students!). You’re a beautiful bend of reactive and pliant, so fun to tease and edge and so rewarding to please.

God, fuck, he wants you. He wants you all the time. All his other hookups are silenced in favor of you, boring conversations abandoned in favor of debating tiramisu and tres leches, and all other sorts of inane things.

What your favorite school subjects are, oddly enough (he supposes he was asking for it, telling you he taught high schoolers).

You like literature, he likes math, and when he hears you talk about it, he almost wants to read some of those novels you like so much. Non-sorcerer politics has never meant anything to him but it matters when he hears you talk about it.

It’s like hearing about a whole separate world with its own struggles. Your opinions are so well-thought out, he can tell just how much you care, and something hums along aside him as he asks questions, nods his head, really listens to what you have to say. It feels so surreal to hear someone whose goals are not so unlike his, when he thinks about it.

Maybe that’s where some of this fondness comes from. Maybe it’s humbling, thinking you want to change your world just as much as he wants to change his, and the only difference is how much people listen.

He can’t imagine not wanting to listen to you. People should listen more. You should run everything, he jokes.

(He’s joking. He’s joking. You don’t know enough to get why he says that twice.)

And then it’s not serious again – when was it ever, really? You talk about your favorite manga and anime and tease each other for your tastes. Maybe talk about episodes or movies you’ve seen together.

He’s admittedly a bit of a movie buff – it’s a real victory when he convinces you to watch one of his old favorites. When he finds out you watched it, he’s excited the whole day to hear what you thought.

You debate what animals you would be; you are definitely a cat – aloof and independent – and you’re quite insistent that he’d be a husky, energetic and annoying and – probably other words you say before he sends you a picture of his dick and you facetime him with some more interesting conversation.

Your days – weeks, months, really – they go on like that, they’re great. Everything is perfect, really.

So when he hears you casually mention you’ve got other dinner plans – when his mind instantly supplies we’re just casual, tease her and hope she gets lucky – the wretched, dark twist in his gut is wholly unexpected.

And he knows instantly. Immediately, really, because he’s just too smart not to.

He knows he doesn’t want you going out with other people. Touching them. Showing them the same faces you show him.

But if he wants you to be his, then he has to ask. And you – you make him wait to hear back.

You never reach out to him first. You open the door with a cool expression, like your heart doesn’t race at the sight of him like his does (he can see it is, he can see it, but his soul is withering at your look like you couldn’t care less).

Satoru doesn’t usually have to ask, not for anything.

People beg to be able to fuck him. They spam when he ghosts them, begging for scraps. He doesn’t have to ask for attention, people shower him in it.

Everyone wants him. They love him. They don’t abandon him along with all their morals and tell him to kill them if he doesn’t like it.

They beg him to stay, and he is the one who leaves.

He’s too much for them. Too much for anyone. You wouldn’t be able to hand him, anyways.

And he can leave any time he wants, he just… doesn’t want to.

(He never wants to leave. He wants it to stay like this, forever. But when does it ever turn out like that?)

Besides, you’re – you also want it to stay casual. Like he told you from the beginning. Probably trying to save your feelings from getting hurt – and can he blame you? Really, with his looks, anyone would be scared to lose him.

So this was just… a happy coincidence. You didn’t want it serious, he didn’t want it, either.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

Satoru’s lip twitches, but it doesn’t manage a smile. It almost feels like you’re kicking him out.

But he knows you’re not, because even if you were the one person on earth who could resist his irresistible charm, he just gave you some absolutely mind-blowing sex.

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru teases, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

He says it playfully, casually, because it is casual. It wouldn’t bother him if you told him to fuck off right then and there. It wouldn’t.

You hum noncommittally. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

If he’s relieved that he can stay, it’s because he’s as exhausted as you are. Because you make him feel good, so fucking good, like he’s on top of the world. Having to leave would just be a mood killer.

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

He is not and never has been. He sleeps three hours a night wakes up by 5am.

It’s never bothered him before. His dreams are not a place he wants to be. But they’ve never hurt him when you were there.

He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him, just barely. Not too tight.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

When he wakes, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

The thing is, you’re awake. He knows that. You’re a light sleeper. Always have been.

He knows you hate morning showers yourself, and always do it at night. Knows what you like for breakfast, how to make it. That you like to sleep in because you have trouble sleeping.

He knows what you think about late at night because you text him about it, because he’s always there texting you, because neither of you can sleep and someone ends up calling and whispering secret scattered thoughts in hushed tones and –

And he honestly doesn’t know, if it’s you or him that slips in the I want to touch you right now, or Want me to kiss it better. Who turns it into sex so things can’t get to be too much.

Satoru would really, really like to think that it’s him, but the truth is that he’s reaching the limit of how believable his lies are, even to himself.

He knows, he knows he knows he knows that if he stayed, you would let him –

(If he repeats it enough it will surely become true.)

– but you both agreed no feelings.

Besides, it’s not like he wants to stay, anyways.

(Why won’t you ask him to come back?)

You know what Satoru is the moment you meet him. It’s not like he’s made any secret of it, either.

A whore. A man-whore, if you will. A player. Whatever it is. He slept with people, drank in all the sex and attention and then went on his merry way.

You get it. This wasn’t the first time you’d met a pretty boy who fucked around, not by a long shot.

He says all casual, no feelings, you smile and nod, and you go back to his place fully expecting to be disappointed because pretty boys usually suck in bed.

And then he fucks you within an inch of your life.

He eats you like a man staved. Hands roving over your skin, groping and squeezing in a way that would be violating, if his beautiful eyes weren’t wild and desperate.

His body is toned and smooth and perfect, unmarred skin that he presses to yours like he’s trying to staunch the bleeding of some invisible wound.

You’ve never felt like this before. Sex has never been this amazing. He props his stupid pretty face up on his elbow and he gives you that stupid charming boyish smirk and asks you if you want to go another round, red-faced and eager. It’s overwhelming and exciting and amazing –

And it’s terrifying, because it’s always like this for him, isn’t it? He just came in and gave you the fuck of a lifetime, but this is just another lay for him.

(But he’s having fun. It’s good for him, too. So why don’t you take what you can get?)

So when he saves his number in your phone, That was awesome, babe, we should do this again sometime, you don’t put a lot of weight into his words. You roll his eyes when he blows you a kiss goodbye, but you don’t delete his number.

Even when he wakes you up with some silly cat meme (god, you hate morning people), somehow you find yourself smiling. You let him know he can get his dick sucked any time if he meows cute enough and woah, maybe you’re coming on too strong –

He sends you an attachment of himself wearing cat ears, striking an obnoxious pose, with a fake tail that he holds by the end in his mouth.

Satoru Gojo, that’s the name. And you do suck his dick, like you promised, but he comes to you determined to get in character, meowing at you, pressing his face into your hands, rubbing into your side, nuzzling your panties while he looks up into your face with a smirk.

It’s a fight to get him on his back and his legs open wide enough for you to settle in. He meows again like a kitty, and purrs like one too when you take his cock into your mouth, hands threading through your hair. Giggling at his own antics.

Your eyes water when you take him, deep, moaning and feeling him shudder at the feeling, long legs squirming on either side of you. He pulls away suddenly, with a pop, laughing when his dick hits the side of your face and you glare at him. Sticking out his tongue.

He looks so young. So heartbreakingly sweet and charming. He pulls you in to settle you on his cock, face-to-face this time, his smile melting into something soft and tacky, sticking to your lips as he kisses his precum away. Infectious delight.

Satoru holds your hands in his, palm to palm, as you ride him in his lap. Face tilted up to look at you with a blush on his cheeks. Blue eyes wide like they have to be, to take you in, as if they aren’t themselves oceans you have to stop yourself from falling into.

You can’t look into his eyes when you cum, when he cums. You’re not sure if he’s looking either.

But you feel him, oh, do you feel him – hands squeezing yours as if in warning, face buried into your neck, a moan that vibrates throughout the both of you.

When you wake up, the next morning, you don’t even mind the fact that he’s still next to you, cuddled up, right beside you. You don’t mind, until you feel him stiffen suddenly, like he’s realized you’re awake, immediately pulling away.

That’s… you’re not sure what it is, since cuddling was obviously okay, so why does he not want to do it while you’re awake? It is too close? Too intimate?

He’d held your hands while he stared deep into your eyes and rocked gently into you last night, but cuddling would be too intimate?

But he smiles that smile before he leaves, stumbling a little bit while he gets dressed, in that goofy way that lanky tall men sometimes do. You even overlook the fact that he’s renamed himself in your contacts. ~ Satoru ~ My Kitten.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid (you’re smiling already), unbearable man. You want to hit him in the face, with your face. Very hard.

Casually, of course. It’s casual between you. No feelings at all.

But then he starts texting you all the time. He double, triple, quadruple texts, with the infuriating shamelessness of someone who’s never been ignored in his life.

Like he’s never worried that the other person is losing interest. He carries himself like it, too, like he knows everyone wants him, and unfortunately, he’s right.

So you tell him he’s annoying and you don’t look at your phone again. Not until he shows up on your doorstep with that pout on his impossibly pretty face.

And you don’t turn him away. Why would you? If he’s going to offer himself on a platter, why not eat up?

You’re just being realistic here. If you fucked him once and never heard from it again, it would still hurt almost as much as it will now. You’ll just be a little lonelier without your texting partner, but you’ll get over it.

There’s other fish in the sea. Even if none of them are as pretty as him, none of them make them laugh like you do. You’re not exclusive. He can see other people, so can you. You’ve made it a point not to ask.

You don’t like what he’s doing now. How he pauses long, makes you wait before telling you to have fun on your date.

How the next time you see him there’s something strange in his eyes, something that leaves him with clawing hands, hungry mouth, eager to leave his marks all over you.

Satoru doesn’t stop texting you, doesn’t stop selfies, thirst traps, prodding little questions and jokes, doesn’t stop obnoxiously demanding (begging?) for your attention.

At first it was an ego boost. Now, it’s terrifying.

Because now he likes you, doesn’t he? He’s interested now. Having fun. Making you feel like he’s jealous, acting like he’s on withdrawal if he goes too long without you, making you feel like someone as beautiful and rich and funny as him could possibly be in love with you.

But he told you in the beginning. Something casual.

Maybe these feelings are real in the moment. But one day they’ll fade, and everything will be yanked right out from under you.

You’ll wonder why he’s getting distant these days. You’ll remember that you never made it official, and sweat over the possibility that he’s seeing someone else. At the end of the day that’s all you’ll be able to do; worry and worry while you’re too afraid to ask.

You’ll wonder what you did wrong. What you did to lose him. How you could go from someone so fascinating, someone he so thoroughly adored and fucked like he was making love, to an afterthought and a stranger, unless you did something wrong? Unless you made a mistake, somewhere along the line?

The mistake of getting attached to him in the first place.

Fuck that. Satoru can develop feelings on his own fucking time. He’ll lose them just as quickly, you can tell.

This isn’t anything more than a hookup to him. He’s an attention whore who likes to hear himself talk, and you’re dumb enough to entertain him because you’re lonely and easily amused, at least when it comes to him.

There’s nothing real here.

You still don’t know where he actually works, outside of some nebulous high school teaching situation. Where he lives. What he does most of the day, what his parents are like. Where he’s from, even. You don’t know if he’s seeing anyone else. He could be married with kids, for all you know.

Not – not that you care. Not that you give a fuck what he’s doing, who he’s fucking, where he is when he’s not with you. You don’t care about him past his dick and what it does to you.

If you did care, you’d only suffer for it. So you draw the line.

You don’t need him, and you want to keep it that way. You don’t want to get attached, and neither does he. So you try to keep him at arm’s length.

Close enough to touch but not so close that your foolish, eager heart can leap out of your chest and into his hands.

Would he still give you that boyish grin when he rejected you? Laugh and let you down gently? Would he say yes and hold your hand while you walked together to the guillotine, the painful end to a relationship that wasn’t supposed to happen anyways? Would he skip away while your heart seized and trembled on the executioner’s block?

He’d look pretty even with blood on his face, you’re sure. But you wouldn’t come out so nicely.

So you don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask him for anything. You take what you’re given and you savor it, but you try – oh, god, do you fucking try – to find someone else, something else to occupy your time.

But he’s just too good. You want him. And you don’t get to have him if you ignore his texts and don’t answer when he’s at the door. You don’t get to fuck him if you won’t even let him see you.

So even if you look away, even if your answers are short, even if you don’t let him stay (not that he even wants to) – you have to let him in.

And unlike you, he’s got self-respect. He’s got other options. If he can’t have you, he’ll just fuck other people, so you can’t push him away too much. You have to make him want to come back. You have to make him want to give you more.

But you can’t control what Satoru wants, and that is the problem.

It’s out of your hands, locked securely in his ribcage where you can never get to it.

He doesn’t talk about his life, his history, doesn’t even complain about work during off hours.

Really, it’s already over, isn’t it? Has been, ever since the beginning. You’re just waiting for the inevitable end.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight.” You say, tired. So tired, and warm. Satoru always leaves you like this; loose-limbed and floaty, high enough to feel the drop. “You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru asks, teasing, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

You close your eyes, trying not to think of what his face must look like.

“Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

Satoru’s arm around your form presses you against him, just barely. Not too close. Never too close.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

You can feel it when he wakes up. How his breathing changes, how he stiffens and tenses against you, you tumble out of sleep instantly, lashes fluttering.

You shut them closed again. Relax yourself. You don’t have to get up. You don’t want to get up.

Why isn’t he leaving yet? What’s taking him so long?

There’s this tension that creeps into your chest. Like you can feel each individual breath he takes. Waiting for him to say something, shake you awake – but why would he? And why would you want him to?

You know what this is. You’ve always known.

So you lay there, still, breathing calm and even, until he leaves.

(…Come back. Please come back.)

[bettysupremacy]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do steve Harrington x reader where Robin accidentally tells Steve that the reader has a crush on him? I love your writing 🫶🫶

this request made me realize I’ve been seriously neglecting Steve, I hope this satisfies enough

The days been seriously slow.

Rainy and cold, nobody wants to travel in the wet to get a movie. They do it the day before. It’d been busy. Customers in and out, in and out, buying their families copies of their favorite film. Steve’s sure he never sees as much business as he does the day the forecaster predicts rain.

“I kind of miss customers.” He now picks at the patterned carpet lazily.

Robin scoffs. “I don’t.”

“But like,” Steve breathes. “we’re so bored.”

“At least we’re getting paid.”

He shrugs. Good point.

She shuffles, dipping her hand down to tug on his shoe. He pulls back, faux kicking her. They smile at each other.

“Truth, what’re you doing after work?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I can’t drive around I’m busy.”

“Abandonment.”

“Stop!” Steve laughs, throwing carpet fuzz at her. “I’ve had this day booked for weeks.”

“Oooh,” She sips the slurpee she’d begged Steve to stop for before his shift obnoxiously. “do tell.”

“Y/n.” He murmurs.

The chill is seeping into his shirt sleeves, finding home over his skin briskly. Or maybe it’s embarrassment settling there. His eyes are heavy and he contemplates the reality of Robin letting him take a nap in the break room. She doesn’t look too trusting now.

“God, you guys are practically dating,” She complains. It’s not that she doesn’t like you, you’re her best friend. Just sometimes, she wants her other best friend to drive her around. “I’m sick of this. I introduced you!”

“We are not dating,” he laughs nervously. “you know that.”

“You practically are.” She shrugs. “Just ask her, I’m sure she’d say yes.”

“That’s not true.”

“She literally wouldn’t say no.” Robins annoyance bubbles out rather quickly. She didn’t sign up for abandonment and denial in one day.

Steve isn’t particularly perturbed by this, slumping over his knees dramatically. “What if.”

He murmurs it some more, quiet mantras of his unsurety.

“Dude stop.” She smacks his head. “I’ve known her for” She pretends to count on her fingers. “ever, if there’s one person she’d say yes to a date with, it’d be you.”

He peaks up from the solemn of his knees. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

Robin flinches, zipping her work friendly uniform jacket higher. “Just like,” she trails off. “you guys already know each other so well, I doubt she’d say no.”

He laughs a little. “You’re such a liar.”

“No i’m not!”

“And a bad one.” He giggles, attention undivided. “What do you know?”

“Literally nothing.” Robin moans. “We don’t even talk like that.”

“You’re so stupid!” Steve flicks her. “You’ve been friends ‘forever’.”

Robins palms soothe her eyelids. “She’s gonna kill me.”

This accidental defeat of admittance tingles in Steve’s fingers. Something he didn’t know he could feel until this confession of requited infatuation. Adrenaline pumps through his body, though he forces himself still for answers.

“Since when?”

“Awhile.” She understates for the sake of your pride.

“Wow.”

“Oh god,” She complains, almost whining. “Please don’t be stupid about this, she’s my only friend and I can’t-“

“I’m sitting right here, Rob.” He scoffs. “And I’m not going to be stupid about this.”

She peaks up, ashamed. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I mean shit,” he breathes. “I see her tonight.”

He checks his watch, standing up briskly to Robins horror. He cannot possibly be leaving her.

“What’re you doing?”

“I clock out two minutes ago.”

“No, no, no,” she whines, not making a move to get up. “do not leave me here alone.”

“I have places to be!”

“You’re abandoning me! Again!”

Steve walks straight into the break room, a new sense of pride bubbling in his chest. He’s gotta get his girl.

“Don’t be weird!”

[applestorms]

on another note. it genuinely kinda surprises me how many people interpret ivan to be the type of person to Repress and Deny his feelings when, from all the evidence we actually have, he actually seems to be quite open about it?

he does do the dumb stare and watch from afar thing that till does with mizi, yeah, but even there i don’t know if i would necessarily interpret that as ivan like. pushing his feelings away. compare the difference between how till and ivan are framed in these two shots:

in till's, we are pushed way farther back, seeing his full face and a good deal of his body as he slouches back. the colors are bright, fitting in with most of the happier mizisua angst memories, and you can read till's expression pretty clearly, even with his face beaten up. it's cute and mostly innocent, the kind of thing that makes you want to gently push him out from behind the wall to watch him stutter and get all embarrassed but reach out and play with his friends.

in ivan's... jesus. i mean, he looks like a freak (affectionate). you can't read his expression, despite the fact that we are zoomed in much more closely, only really seeing his eye as the placement of his hand covers his mouth. there is very little body language to convey the same type of sweet, childhood Yearning that till has in his staring shot. instead, for ivan, it all comes down to the Eye, how intently he stares as he watches till and mizi. it almost doesn't even feel like he wants to join in at that moment, or not yet, like watching alone is enough to feed the starvation.

don't get me wrong, there's still plenty of Yearning and Angst in that boy-- round 3 alone is enough to demonstrate that. but what i think people sometimes forget to account for is the fact that ivan acts like that specifically because he has already been rejected.

up until [whenever this moment happens in the timeline] ivan seemingly has absolutely no qualms about getting all up close and personal with till. we see this in plenty of the round 6 flashbacks:

he is plenty comfortable getting all up in till's personal space, whether it be to beat him up or just exist near him.

i also like how in this shot (below) we can see him specifically stand up and move seats, just so that he can bother till during lunch and have his little vampire weirdo moment (aww).

ivan's behavior only really shifts after till has already rejected him-- which, i'd also like to note, seems to genuinely catch ivan off guard. perhaps he genuinely didn't even consider the possibility that till would ever push him away?? i guess it's hard to know the specifics of what he was feeling or thinking in that exact moment, but at the very least this speaks to the ease with which they existed around each other previously.

thus: ivan doesn't begin with the belief that till could never love him. he only starts to doubt whether or not his feelings are requited after he has already been rejected, after he pushed too hard and too quick.

after the failed meteor shower date, his affections become a lot more subtle-- sneaking around to take care of till when he needs it, but only when his eyes are closed. the love and obsession and watchfulness is all still there, but he takes more care to hide it better now. until... well, y'know.

he lets the selfishness win. :]

[roanofarcc]

ALL’S FAIR

pairing: sasappis x ghost!reader

summary:  sass has been out of the dating game for a long time and feels utterly unprepared to ask out the cute ghost girl, jessica. he asks you for help, and despite your feelings for him, you offer to help him out with a practice date.

warnings: believed to be unrequited feelings that are actually quite requited.

word count. 2.3k | masterlist

It started as a simple complaint from Sasasppis. Dating wasn’t exactly one of his skills, considering he’d been dead for such a long time, so he was lacking serious practice. You, on the other hand, having died a bit more recently were fairly versed in the dating game. You certainly were no expert, but at least you had been on a date in the past decade. 

So, when he complained that he was “embarrassingly” out of practice and didn’t want to look stupid in front of a cute car ghost who was new to the mansion, you made an off-handed comment about him going on a practice date. You had learned, during your life, the key to being good at most things was to practice. 

You just didn’t expect him to ask you to be the one he practiced with. But you couldn’t say no to him. 

Sass was unfairly cute and someone you connected with first after your death. What started as a silly crush morphed into a stupid one you tried to ignore, which was hard considering you couldn’t exactly avoid him. Nor did you want to. 

It was a terrible idea, you knew that, but you didn’t have a reasonable excuse to tell him you couldn’t. So, you agreed like any good friend would, even if it made you feel a mess of all sorts of things tied in an impossible knot and stuck in your gut. 

“Should I be taking notes or something?” he asked. 

You raised your brows, sitting at the kitchen table. “Yeah, go grab a piece of paper and a pen,” you joked. 

He laughed dryly before a real smile broke out on his face. “Okay, okay. But seriously, what if I don’t remember all of this when I’m on my actual date?”  

You were probably overthinking things, but the way he said ‘actual’ sounded pointed, a clear reminder that what the two of you were doing was just pretend. You knew that, but your brain liked to overanalyze every interaction you had with Sass, searching for something that wasn’t there. He was just a friend, and you wanted to be a good one by helping out. 

“It’s not an exam, Sass,” you gently reminded him. “I’m just giving you guidelines, not a step-by-step manual. Everyone’s different when it comes to dating.” 

“Right,” he said with a sigh. “I just don’t want to screw this up. Jessica’s so cool. I can’t even remember the last time someone’s been interested in me.” 

You rolled your lips into your mouth. He was technically right, you never expressed your interest in him. Why? You didn’t have an answer. Maybe you thought you’d have more time to either get over it or work up the courage to own up to it. Neither had happened yet, then Jessica stepped into the picture. 

“It’s pretty simple,” you started after clearing your throat. “Above everything, don’t be an asshole, which should be pretty easy.” 

“One would say I excel in that regard.” You tilted your head in question, and he held his hands up in defense. “Okay, sometimes I excel. But I won’t be an asshole,” he said. “What are we supposed to talk about?” 

Small talk was surprisingly more difficult as a ghost. Without a life to be lived, talks of your future were null. “You can talk about Woodstone, your friends here. Ask her about the places she’s seen. You can even talk about your life, but I’d avoid talking about your deaths; that might kill the mood.” 

Sass listened intently, focusing on you, which made you more flustered than you liked. 

“I wish we could do something for our date,” he said after a beat. Jessica was confined to a small radius outside the car, which meant she couldn’t enter the mansion. Sass had to go to her, and their date was stuck in the backseat. “I don’t know how exciting I can be for longer than an hour.” 

“Well, if she likes you, she’ll find you exciting. Plus, you two have your whole life and death to chat about.” 

“I’m just…really out of practice,” he sighed. “Or lack practice at all.” 

You leaned back in your seat across from Sass, not liking the worry lines creasing in his face. He had nothing to worry about; he was wonderful, you thought, the furthest thing from boring or unkind. Anyone would be a fool not to see that. Yet, a selfish part of you wanted Jessica not to, for your own sake. But the other, more reasonable part of you wanted Sass to be happy regardless of the part you played in that happiness. 

“As cliche as it sounds, just be yourself,” you said, and he shot you a look. “I’m serious. She’d be crazy not to like you, Sass. She might even find it cute that you’re nervous.” 

He didn’t look convinced. “Really? You don’t think that’s lame?” 

With a shake of your head, you attempt to rid Sass of his spiraling worry. “If I were in her shoes, I’d think it was sweet how worried you are and how much effort you’re putting into making the date perfect. I’m sure she’ll see it the same way.” 

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked, fiddling with his hands nervously on the tabletop. 

You looked at him with the utmost sincerity sparkling in your gaze. “Then that’s her loss.” 

Sass’s version of “getting ready” for his date with Jessica was pacing around his room and being slightly judged by Hetty and Trevor. 

“I don’t get why you’re nervous, dude,” Trevor said. “It’s really not a big deal.” 

Sass rolled his eyes. “Says you, dude. This is the first person this century to be interested in me.” 

Trevor furrowed his brows. “Uh, that’s not-” He was stopped by a swift hit in the gut from Hetty, who sent him a glare. “Jesus, okay.” 

Sass ignored them, fixing his hair. He started to ramble, explaining how he thought he was somewhat ready for his date before he had help from you to prepare for it, but his rambling after that bit of information was cut off by Hetty. 

“Wait, you had them help you get ready for your date?” she repeated, seemingly aghast. Sass nodded, not understanding the look on her face. 

Trevor didn’t look much different. He hung his head. “Wow, dude. That’s rough.” 

“What’re you talking about? We’re friends and they offered.” 

Hetty and Trevor exchanged a look that Sass couldn’t pinpoint. 

“You’re not seriously that dense, are you?” Hetty asked. 

It was at that point that Sass felt defensive, he just didn’t know of what. Their tone was judgmental, but he was positive he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

Trevor saw the shift in Sass’s expression and held his hands out to cut the confused tension. “That’s just a little mean, don’t you think?” 

Sass felt like he had missed something, a chunk of the conversation he hadn’t been let in on. “What are you guys talking about.” 

“Oh, God,” Hetty gasped, grasping Trevor’s wrist. “He doesn’t know.” 

“Know what?!” 

“Dude, Jessica is not the only person who likes you.” 

Trevor’s words took a long beat to sink in, for Sass to make sense of who they could possibly be talking about. It wasn’t you, surely. You and Sass had been friends since you had died and ended up joining their group of ghosts who haunted Woodstone. He’s never taken any of your words or actions as anything other than friendly. That was what you called him and what he called you. Friends. Plain and simple. 

Of course, it wasn’t that Sass had never thought of the possibility of you. He thought of you often, if he was being honest with himself, but he blamed that on all of the time you two spent together. Of course, you were on his mind because you and him were always talking, gossiping, even scheming. He liked that you found his jokes funny and were always interested in his stories, even if they weren’t very riveting. He enjoyed your presence, always lingering around him warmly. 

“N-No,” Sass rushed out, laughing at the ridiculous idea they were implying. “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? Because why would they help me get ready for a date if they liked me?” That was something a friend did, not someone interested in you. 

“Because they don’t think you return the same feeling. It’s easy to see why since you are going out with another person. Why say something when they don’t believe it’s reciprocated?” Hetty said. 

Sass stilled in the middle of his room, his mind running a mile a minute. “But they could have said something before,” he muttered, more to himself than the other two. Why hadn’t you said anything? He was certain that if he had known your feelings pushed beyond friendship, he would have let himself consider the same. But he had been so certain you only saw him as a friend that he didn’t let himself fall into a trap of a crush not returned; he’d been there and done that plenty of times before. 

Trevor shrugged. “Maybe they were scared?” 

“There is a way to find out,” Hetty said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But that’s a choice up to you, I’m afraid.” 

It was time for his date with Jessica. She was waiting for him outside. He had a choice to make, one he certainly didn’t envision facing at the start of the day. 

The night stretched on, yet you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, thinking about Sass and Jessica on their date, probably laughing and sharing kisses in the backseat of the car. 

With a grumble, you rubbed your temples, trying to scrub the image from your brain before it drove you mad. You tried to think of anything else, closing your eyes and trying to force yourself into a night’s sleep, but your actions were fruitless as a voice called your name from outside the door. 

If you could have picked up your pillow and yelled into it without making much noise, you would have. It was Sass, probably giddy and ready to tell you all about his date. You couldn’t turn him away, and you wouldn’t. 

You sat up, adjusting your appearance before you told him to come in. 

You expected him to come in with a wide smile, bouncing on his feet from a date gone well, but the Sass you were met with looked more stressed than anything. His brows were pulled together, causing a crease to form across his forehead, and his lips were downturned in a frown. 

“I need to talk to you,” he said bluntly. 

“About your date?” 

“No.” He paused. “Yes. Well, kind of. I-I don’t…” he trailed off with a sigh and sat on the edge of your bed, not facing you. 

Worry pricked the edges of your mind as you crawled forward and sat beside him. “Is everything okay?” 

Sass twisted his hands around in his lap and kept his gaze forward. “The date didn’t exactly go as I thought.” 

“Oh?” You weren’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, Sass was your friend, and you wanted him to be happy regardless of who he was with. But you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. “What happened?” 

“I talked to Trevor and Hetty before it. They said something and it…it made me second guess the whole thing.” 

“No offense to them, but I don’t know if they should be your main source of relationship advice,” you said, only half joking. 

Sass finally turned his head to look at you, his expression confusing and unreadable. “Why’d you agree to help me out with my date with Jessica?” 

“Because you were worried and said you needed help,” you answered honestly. “Did my advice not work?” 

“No, it worked,” he sighed. “But it wasn’t Jessica who I really wanted to be on that date with. But I just didn’t realize it until I was, you know, on it.” 

You stilled, feeling a confusing rush of emotions fill the air between you two. “What’re you trying to say, Sass?” 

“I wanted it to be you.” 

His words hung heavy in the air for a moment as you two stared at each other, neither one sure what the next move was to be made. At first, you didn’t know if you had even heard him right. He wanted it to be you on the date? He had been so excited since Jessica arrived at the mansion, and you had never felt like your feelings towards him were reciprocated. 

“Hetty and Trevor said it wasn’t fair that I asked you to help me with my date,” Sass continued with a shake of his head. “They said it was clear you liked me. And I thought that was crazy. Then I started thinking about it. I-It was all I could think about during my date. When Jessica asked me what was going on with me, I realized thinking about someone else while on a date isn’t exactly great. So I told her and…and then I came here to tell you all of…that.” 

You were going to kill Hetty and Trevor. That was your first thought as your mind worked through everything Sass had just dumped on you. The second thing was, what were you supposed to say back to that? Your mind felt muddled. 

“They weren’t wrong,” you confessed after a beat. “I mean, not that it wasn’t fair. We’re friends; I wanted to help you. But they weren’t wrong about the other thing. About me liking you.” That had weighed on you since you uncovered your crush, and you planned on never uttering those words aloud to Sass, or at least not so soon. You planned on just living in the afterlife with your one-sided crush or embarrassing yourself somewhere in the future.  

Sass’s expression shifted and a smile spread across his lips. “Well, you know, I’ve gotten some pretty good advice on dating. Maybe I could take you on a real one sometime?” 

You laughed lightly, a giddy feeling replaced the confusion that had clouded your brain a moment ago. “I’d like that.”

[mochinomnoms]

Hi hi friend,

If it is not too much trouble I would like to make a request for your event? I think I would like Floyd with prompt 14- “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

They/them for Yuu is fine with me, I was thinking romantic? Where maybe it's obvious to everyone but Yuu how requited their feelings are.

I've really liked reading your writing and hope you continue to have fun doing it (♡°▽°♡)

floyd leech x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, mutual pining [wc} – 3,659 prompt 14: “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!” note - hahahahahhahahahahaha i did not mean to write so much but i went a little buckwild and i think floyd deserves to be allowed to be soft sometimes a floral inconvenience

Lavender roses - Introduced in 1900, lavender roses represent love at first sight. They’re often given to someone to convey that the giver was immediately smitten and fell in love. 

You’d decided to attend a karaoke event the Mostro Lounge was hosting to introduce the new spring menu. It was meant to be a nice, relaxing hangout with your friends from Heartslaybul as you listened to your friends attempt to show off their mediocre singing skills. 

Ace was in an especially good mood, happy to tease you as you waved happily at Floyd, who’d returned your affections. 

“Oi, oi, oiiiiiii, Prefect? When you gonna say something? Kinda tired of dealing with you puking petals every—OW!”

You snorted as Deuce smacked Ace upside the head, muttering about him being an asshole. 

“Leave them alone Ace, unless you want to be collared for harassing a member of the student body?” Riddle reprimanded, giving Ace a harsh glare as he turned to you instead. 

“You can ignore him, Prefect, you don’t have to say anything to that good-for-nothing merman! I’m sure you could do much better anyways.”

You chuckled, enjoying the soft banter between the group. It was particularly nice seeing Riddle interact more casually with his peers, even if you weren’t able to convince him to sing with you. 

“Are you sure you do want to go up with me?” You pouted leaning in close to the red-headed housewarden. “I’ll even let you pick the song—”

“Out of the question.”

You sighed, resting against the plush cushions of the booth while Ace and Deuce bicker about which song would be better for a duet. This was nice. 

It was nice, up until Floyd decided to take part in the festivities. Somehow he’d snuck behind you and Riddle, snatching up your friend with a gleeful cackle as he screeched. 

“FLOYD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”

“Nah, it’s fine Goldfishie, I need ya for just a sec!”

Floyd placed Riddle in a seat, front and center at the stage, as he climbed up. The cool blue spotlight suited Floyd’s features as he grinned. 

Picking up the mic from its stand, Floyd announced, “Alright! This song is for my favorite little fishie in the whole entire school, so you all better enjoy it!”

You expected him to start singing a silly pop song, one with high energy and beats. Or one that became a meme on Magicam last week, something about flamingos and turning pink. 

Instead, the upbeat, suave tunes of a familiar song started playing. A familiar love song. 

“Is…is this ABBA?”

“Who?” Cater asked, recording the scene with a stifling giggle as Riddle turned redder and redder in embarrassment (and most likely rage) as Floyd continued to serenade him. 

“This is ‘Lay Your Love’ by BABA, a classic from the 80s—”

“No it’s called ABBA back home—wait, WHY IS FLOYD SINGING A LOVE SONG TO RIDDLE!?”

Your screech startled the surrounding tables, drawing attention that you were too jealous to focus on. Floyd made eye contact with you, hearing your yelling. Continuing to sing—quite nicely you’d hate to admit—the eel mer winked and smirked, drawing an ire that you didn’t know you had. 

“What the hell? Floyd!” With the vindication of a scorned lover, you stomped to the stage and swiped the microphone from Floyd’s hands. 

“Floyd, what are you doing?” you spoke into the mic, glaring daggers at the tall beanpole of an eel turned man, who looked unbothered at your angry presence.

Floyd took the mic back and answered, “I’m trying to win my mate back—DON’T GO WASTING—”

“What mate?” You yanked the mic back while Floyd followed suit, though this time you kept both hands on. It became a tugging match as you both tried speaking into the mic before the other took it back. 

“Goldfishie.” You could hear Riddle scream at that. 

“Riddle’s not your mate! I’m your mate—” You snapped your mouth shut, the mic feedback and your last words echoing through the lounge, mocking you. 

Floyd had a large, smug grin on his face, his sharp teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the stage. You were now very aware of the packed lounge, and of the students spectating. 

The mic was slowly pulled back to Floyd, who gleefully asked “Oh~ Say that again?”

“Nuh-uh.” 

You shook your head furiously, trying to pull back in order to run off and curl into a hole from embarrassment. Floyd’s grip on the mic and your hands tightened, preventing your escape. 

“That’s fiiine,” Floyd pulled out a small device from his pocket, lightly tapping it on the mic. “I have it riiiight ‘ere.” 

Suddenly, a recording of your voice looped into the mic: 

“I’m your mate—I’m your mate—I’m your mate—”

He recorded it. 

“Oh my god…” You looked at Floyd in horror, who was still grinning ear to ear, like a cat that got the mouse. 

“HehehehehehahahAHAHA!” Floyd’s giggle turned into a cackle as he launched at you, mic and recorder abandoned on the floor. Between the ear-splitting squeal of the mic hitting the ground and a 6’2” man tackling you, there was little time for you to defend yourself as your lips clashed, teeth clattering against one another from the brute force.

His long arms wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, dipping you down dramatically as he broke your kiss to instead leave wet kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and every other piece of skin not covered by clothes. 

Ace and Cater’s cackles could be heard amongst the now growing laughter, whistles, and jeers of the crowd. You think you could even make out someone yelling at your two to get a room. 

“—off the stage! Get off the stage, both of you!” 

Ah, it was Azul. Who was stomping over the shoo you both off the stage, giving Floyd a particularly harsh whack on the head with his staff. 

“Ow, fuck that hurt!” Floyd whined, scooping you up with his left hand and cradling you to his chest. “Cool it Azul, don’t harsh my vibe—”

“I don’t care! Go make out in your room! This is a lounge not a brothel!”

“Fiiiiiine,” Floyd adjusted his grip to instead throw you over his shoulder, amused by how limp you’d gone in his grasp. “Come on Shrimpy! I got something fun in mind~”

His sentence and teasing tone made you flush, images of you and him in bed flashing through your mind. 

“W-wait, Floyd, what are we gonna do?”

“You’ll see, ahahahehe!” Floyd’s giggled echoed through the hallway as he quickened his pace. It was only a few minutes before you realized that you two had made it to the dormitory halls. 

Floyd kicked open his door, the hinges squeaking from the force. He marched over to his bed, grabbing at your waist to no doubt throw you on it before pausing. 

“Oh yeah.” Like a sudden realization hitting him, Floyd grabbed the corner of his bedsheets and shook them, clothing, books, and crumbs no doubtedly flying off. 

Once satisfied, Floyd hummed and once again grabbed your waist, this time committing to throwing you on the bed, which bounced under you. 

“AaaAaaAAAah—FLOYD!” You yelped, face turning redder as Floyd caged you to the bed. He looked at you with a hungry expression, licking his lips at the sight of you. 

“Wait-wait Floyd, gimme a sec—” you stammered, crawling backwards until your back hit the headboard. “—this is all very very sudden, I—wait!”

Floyd crawled after you, trapping you with his long arms, leaning down until his lips were lingering over yours. You shut your eyes in anticipation, waiting for his hands to grab at your clothes and tear them off. 

A soft, tender meeting of the lips. Floyd pressed his mouth against yours, swiping his tongue into your mouth, to which you returned with flustered confusion. The kiss was with such gentleness that you had to open your eyes to confirm that it was indeed Floyd kissing you. 

Olive and yellow eyes were closed, a blissful smile on his lips as he broke your kiss, instead pressing almost chaste pecks to your cheeks, down, your neck, and over your shirt where your heart was beating away. 

Floyd pressed his right ear to your chest, listening to the increasingly rapid pounding against your rib cage. His arms moved from trapping you against the bed to trapping you against his body, wrapping around your back and tightening while his lanky legs tangled between yours. 

You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands, once he had settled laying on you. Hesitantly, you reached to lace them through his hair, pushing the strands back to get a better view of his peaceful face. Admittedly, seeing Floyd in such a state, blissful and sweet, was beautiful. 

His smile grew slightly as you combed through his hair, nuzzling his nose into your chest. Into your heart really. 

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Floyd opened his yellow eye, gleaming at you in amusement. “I just wanted to cuddle, did ya have somethin’ else in mind? Haha!”

He moved to prop up his chin, smirking at you as he teased, “Didn’t think ya had sucha dirty mind, if you wanna ‘do it’, all you had to do was ask—”

You shoved his face back into your chest looking away in embarrassment, feeling his giggles vibrate through you. 

“Shut up, ugh!” You pouted, grumbling, “You set me up! Ugh! How’d you even know that would work?”

“I heard you.”

“Huh?”

“Talkin’ to Lil Goldfishie,” Floyd moved so that instead of laying on top of you, he was curled into your side with his head nestled at the crook of your neck. “When you got the flower sickness.” 

You looked at him with shock. That conversation with Riddle happened nearly three months ago in between classes. 

Specifically, it happened a few weeks after winter break, when you were catching up Riddle to your “adventure” in Scarabia, after which small lavender roses started blooming along your freckles, their thorns scratching your skin.

“And then, he launched us waaaaaay into the desert!” You animatedly waved your arms around as you recounted your fiasco over winter break. “We were trapped, but then Kalim used his unique magic to fill a dry riverbed with water and then!”

Riddle raised a brow at you as you began gigging with a soft blush. “Jade and Floyd had to turn into their merforms, so me and Kalim had to hold on to his back, but when I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he held my hand to steady me! ”

Your friend rolled his eyes as you started to silently squealed in your seat, sighing.

“Are you going to finish? I have better things to do than listen to you babble about Floyd of all people. Honestly,” Riddle huffed, “I don’t understand what you see in that riffraff!”

“He’s not a riffraff!” You quipped, frowning as you crossed your arms. “He’s actually really sweet if you give him the time of day, Floyd just likes being able to have fun with others you know!”

“Even then, his mood swings don’t terrify you? He gets rather violent sometimes.” Riddle took a sip of his tea as you shook your head. 

“No, I mean if you just go with the flow it’s fine, plus that just makes him more exciting to be around! Plus we’ve been getting closer ever since Azul’s overblot…”

You smiled softly as you looked down at your lap, fondness growing in your heart like blooms on a warm spring day. 

“He can actually be quite sweet, once you get to know him…you just have to give him a chance.”

The two of you remained quiet, the only coming from the distant chatter of other students in the more populated areas of the guest lounge.

“I’m safe to assume then that he is the reason you’ve started sprouting the roses?”

Your soft pink blush deepened as you nodded, picking at the small flower that began blooming on your cheek. 

“Yeah…”

“When will you confess, then?” You looked at Riddle in shock, who seemed confused at your distress. “What? It’s obvious that you have strong feelings for him, and even I notice how especially clingy he is around you.”

You shook your head, stuttering, “Well, yeah but that’s—”

“I’ve even heard him refer to you by name, he only does that with Jade and Azul you know?”

“You don’t understand Riddle.” You tried to interject, growing more flustered by the second. “I don’t think I could—”

Riddle continued, “As much as I disapprove, it does seem that you two genuinely bring out the best in each other, he does seem softer when you’re around—”

“Oh my—Riddle, stop—”

“—And you’ve gotten more outspoken, I remember how shy you were—”

“I’m begging you—”

“—Besides, according to the Queen of Heart’s rule number 478, any romantic feelings must be confessed approximately 12 days upon their discovery or the individual in question obligated to deny—”

“I said stop, Riddle!” You yelled at the top of your lungs before choking on rather large bouquet of lavender roses. Leaves and petals fluttered all around you as you continued to let out rough coughs, phlegm and saliva making a mess. 

Your yell startled the red-head so much that he simply started at you with a red face and thinned lips, too shocked to properly yell back at you for raising your voice indoors. 

Instead, he carefully placed his tea cup on the table between you two, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. You on the other hand, peaked around the dividers separating your nook from the rest of the lounge. 

Ace and Deuce looked over in concern as you continued to cough out more roses, walking over before you shook your head and gave them a thumbs up before shooing them away and turning back to Riddle. 

“...sorry Riddle.” You whispered, looking at him nervously. “I didn’t mean to yell, don’t be mad?”

“It’s…fine.” He replied with a strained voice, taking a final inhale before opening his eyes again and making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have yelled, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Riddle sighed, relaxing into the soft lounge chair. Though he would deny when asked, the chair that he helped you pick for the guest room was is favorite spot to sit in, as it surprising comfortable. 

“May I ask why you refused? It’s quite obvious to anyone that you care for him immensely, for some forsaken reason, and I would even say it’s quite mutual.”

You avoided eye contact as he resumes sipping from his tea, a lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes for his post meal tea. 

“Yeah…that’s what the other first-years say too. Even Jade’s been dropping hints on mer courtship gifts.”

“Then? What’s stopping you? 

A pregnant pause was in the air as you open and closed your mouth, attempting to figure out what it was that scared you. 

“What if…he gets bored?” 

Riddle furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in, barely able to hear you. 

“What if he what?” He sighed, a bit irritated. “Speak up Prefect, I know you can, you just did earlier.”

You groaned out, “What if he gets bored with me? I’m fun and interesting now, yeah!”

Your friend watched, and you began pacing around the room, holding his head in his hand as he watched and listened to you vent. 

“I’m just a silly little magicless human that got transported from another world! Big whoop! What happens when that novelty wears off? You've heard him, he only likes to do things that are fun and interesting to him, but I won’t always be fun and interesting, eventually he’ll get used to me and get bored.”

You turned to look at Riddle with a teary-eyed, but firm look. “He’s get bored and leave me. I can’t handle that! So I just won’t be with him. In fact, I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for him!”

Your voice began to crack as you stated your final sentence, snapping your mouth shut before you got begun crying. Riddle stood up and walked over to grasp your shoulders, looking at you with an understanding smile. 

“The sort of person that would abandon a lover simply because they’re bored never deserved one in the first place.” 

Riddle hummed in agreement as you sqeaked out a ‘really?’, giving you a soft pat on your shoulder. 

“Of course, I can’t say I don’t understand your hesitance, Floyd is…Floyd, after all. However, he is not my friend, you are. If you choose to forfeit your right to confess, then so be it.”

You smiled as he dragged you back to your seats, giggling as he continued, “I personally would say it’s no lost on your part, he’s not exactly the most prime candidate for your life partner should you be stuck here in Twisted Wonderland, may I suggest one of the many more suitable providers?”

“Pfft-like who? You?” you cackled as Riddle looked at you in mild horror. 

“Oh dear, of course not! I admire you as a friend, but I have much stricter standards for a partner.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Perhaps Ace or Deuce, you are rather close to them—”

“Ewwwww, pass. They’re like annoying brothers!” 

Riddle snorted before covering it up with a cough. “True. Trey?”

“If you’re just going to suggest your dorm members, maybe we should switch the conversation to something else.”

“Well I think my dorm produces only the best and most gentlemanly mages of all of NRC, so excuse me if I’m simply trying to give you the best options!” 

You and Riddle shared some laughter, a flash of teal catching the corner of your eye. But you saw nothing, so instead you focused back on Riddle as he began recounting his own winter break activities.

You remained quiet as you processed your thoughts, finding the lilac ceiling to be particularly interesting. 

Floyd also stayed quiet, still curled into your side as he breathed in your scent. You’re sure that with all of the flowers you’d started coughing up in the last few minutes, you smelled strongly of the lavender roses. 

“You know…I was gettin’ real mad when you wouldn’t confess to me.” Floyd whined, propping his head up with his hand to look at you and your pink face. 

“I thought it would be nice to get a cute confession out of my little shrimp,” He pinched your nose and forced you to look at him. “It be real fun! Like those cringy romcoms landfolk like so much!”

You replied, nasally due to your pinched nose, “Wait, is that why Jade was telling me about mer courting methods?”

“Haha! Yeah, I was hopin’ that you’d bring me a pretty seashell or somethin’ cute so Icould make fun of ya for later.”

You let out an indigent huff, smacking Floyd’s hand away as he laughed. 

“Really? So what made you change your mind?”

“Hearing ya talk to Goldfishie. It pissed me off that you’d think I’d toss you out like humans at sea with their trash.”

Floyd’s tone changed, looking  visibly annoyed as he continued. 

“Mers mate for life, and I wouldn’t choose someone I’d get bored with.” He sat up as his mood continued to sour. “It pissed me off, and it hurt, that my Little Shrimpy would think about me like that.”

“Oh, Floyd,” you sat up with him, guilt seeping in your bones as you looked at his angry face. Though, with the small tears forming in his eyes, Floyd looked more frustrated than anything. 

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—it didn’t occur to me that you felt the same—”

“Well I do, and it’s not fair to me that you wouldn’t even give me a chance.” The way Floyd said that so matter of factly made you snap your mouth shut again, looking down at your lap instead. 

“I’m…sorry, Floyd. I wish I could make it up to you—”

Floyd interrupted, moody demeanor brightening suddenly. “No worries, I got just the solution!”

Crawling over back to you so that your back met the headboard again, Floyd grinned maliciously at your curled form. 

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say it. Those three little words.” Floyd held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “The ones that will make all those little flower go right away, the ones you need to say to me.”

You stiffened, leaning away from Floyd as he leaned in. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Say it, Y/N.” The use of your name startled your attention back to his face. He looked unusually serious, peering his heterochromic eyes into your own. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve mistaken him for his twin. 

You whispered, prolonging the inevitable, “What happened to Shrimpy?”

“Shrimpy was Shrimpy, but now your Y/N. And Y/N is Y/N…”

The two of you shared a smile as the distance between you two continued to close. You couldn’t remember what was so pressing earlier, why you were so anxious when the yellow eye of the man in front of you produced nothing but adoration from your heart. 

“Please…” From the uncharacteristic soft murmur to the eyes darting down to your lips and back to your eyes, Floyd drew you back in with a hypnotic ease that only the most alluring of mythical creatures could even hope to imitate. 

The two of you leaned in as you placed a hand on his chest, his own left hand coming to cradle your own. 

You craned your head back to hover your lips under his, uttering the words you swore to never let leave your mouth. 

“I-I…love you, Floyd Leech.”

A single lavender rose grew between your palms, as two longing hearts met as one.

[writeriguess]

Hi! I'm so happy you're back! Since you want requests-

Could you write Kaeya (genshin) friends to lovers? It's his first time having strong romantic feelings for someone, and reader overhears him talking about it to Diluc. Requited, happy ending? Thanks!

author's note: I'm happy to be back too <3

To the Brave

The Angel’s Share was quieter than usual, the soft hum of evening conversation filling the air like a gentle undercurrent. The scent of aged oak, spiced wine, and flickering candle wax mingled in the cozy warmth of the tavern. You sat at the bar, nursing a drink, watching the occasional swirl of amber liquid in your glass. Each time the door swung open, a cool breeze danced through the room, brushing against your skin before dissipating into the warmth of the tavern’s hearth.

Kaeya had invited you here earlier in the evening, flashing one of his signature smirks as he promised to steal a moment with you. But after a sudden wave of customers flooded in, demanding Diluc’s ever-efficient service, Kaeya had been unceremoniously pulled away to help. You had half-expected him to slip away and find an excuse to avoid work, but surprisingly, he stayed. Maybe it was Diluc’s infamous glare that kept him tethered to his duty tonight, or maybe—just maybe—Kaeya didn’t mind the distraction.

Either way, you were left waiting, sipping your drink, and soaking in the atmosphere.

You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally. But when you heard your name murmured from a shadowed corner near the storeroom, your attention sharpened. The sound of Kaeya’s voice, lower than usual, pulled you in like a tide, drawing your gaze toward the dimly lit corner.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Diluc muttered, arms crossed, his expression impassive but lacking its usual sharp edge.

“Because you’re the only one who’ll give me an honest answer,” Kaeya replied. His voice wasn’t its usual velvety tease. There was something raw there, something uncertain. “You’ve seen me at my best and worst. Do you think someone like me could ever… deserve them?”

Your breath caught. He was talking about someone—about you?

Diluc’s eyes flickered toward you briefly before he exhaled, shaking his head as if dealing with Kaeya’s turmoil was more exhausting than any rowdy tavern brawl. “If you want them to know how you feel, tell them. You’re wasting time brooding over it.”

Kaeya let out a quiet chuckle, but it lacked his usual charm. “Easier said than done. I’m not used to this. Flirting? Sure. Playing games? Absolutely. But this? It’s like… I’m afraid of ruining everything we already have.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. Kaeya—always so effortlessly confident, so sure of himself—was nervous? About you?

“You’re overthinking it,” Diluc said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “They’re more patient with you than I’d ever be. Take that as a good sign.”

Kaeya’s laugh was softer this time, carrying a note of something more vulnerable. “Fair point.” He hesitated, his voice dropping lower, almost as if he were afraid to admit the next part. “I just… I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before. It’s terrifying.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. It was too much, too overwhelming, and yet your feet remained rooted to the floor. A part of you wanted to step away, to give him the privacy of his confession, but another part—a much louder part—needed to hear more.

Before you could overthink it, your lips parted, and his name left your mouth. “Kaeya?”

Both men turned to look at you. Kaeya’s eyes widened slightly, a rare moment of unguarded surprise breaking through his usual composed facade.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his tone unreadable, but his cheeks tinged with color.

You swallowed hard, feeling your own face heat up. “Long enough.”

Diluc shot Kaeya a pointed look, one that clearly said, You’ve got this mess to clean up, before excusing himself, leaving the two of you alone in the dim, intimate space.

Kaeya tilted his head, a nervous smile flickering across his lips. “So, you heard that, huh?”

You nodded, fingers twisting in the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. And… if you’re worried about ruining anything, don’t be. Because… I feel the same way.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between you. Kaeya stood perfectly still, his expression frozen in something like disbelief. Then, slowly, a genuine smile broke across his face—something real, something so achingly soft that it made your chest tighten.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice hushed, as if he were afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

You stepped closer, emboldened by the hope flickering in his gaze. “I do. You’re not the only one who’s been scared of ruining things, Kaeya. But I think… it’s worth the risk.”

His breath left him in a quiet, incredulous laugh. One hand lifted to the back of his neck, fingers brushing through his dark blue hair in a rare display of nervousness. “Archons, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You chuckled, feeling the last of your nerves settle into something warm, something light. “Hopefully not.”

Kaeya’s laughter filled the space between you, unrestrained and genuine. Then, in a movement more like the Kaeya you knew, he stepped closer, closing the distance, his hand reaching out to take yours.

His fingers brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, before curling around yours. His grip was warm, steady, yet hesitant, as if he still couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin. “Because I’m done holding back.”

And as you looked up at him, at the sincerity in his gaze, at the quiet vulnerability he had laid bare, you realized something—so were you.

Kaeya exhaled, almost as if letting go of a burden he had carried for far too long. The corners of his lips curled into something softer than a smirk, more meaningful than a tease. “Come on,” he murmured, gently tugging you toward him. “Let’s get out of here.”

The tavern, the murmured conversations, the flickering candlelight—all of it faded into the background as you followed him, your heart pounding, your hand secure in his. Tonight, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his touch and the promise lingering between you.

Feel free to request <3

[reidsrambles]

Part 2: New Year's Day

This is part 2 of a duo, so please go read part 1, New Year's Eve, if you haven't yet!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Description: My only New Year's Eve plan is to help my best friend Penelope entertain her many party guests. When I find myself alone with her coworker, Spencer (who I've had a crush on for ages), it seems that my New Year's might turn out different than I had planned.

(Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI] smut, protected (condom) PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving), brief mention of being drunk or high in the past

A/N: Again, down the wire! I've been writing literally all day. It's 10 PM and I haven't yet made dinner... I wrote and edited this one basically just today?? So if there are any mistakes or I missed any warnings, pls lmk tysm. Again, credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider graphics, including the one I cropped below.

Names used: Baby

Words (this chapter): 3,734

Words (total): 5,759

The kiss is desperate, but not rough. He’s kissing me back, right? I pull my face away. He leans his forehead against mine, both of us panting into the mere inches between our lips. 

He doesn’t loosen his hold on my body. “Is everything okay? We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop.” I grip the fabric of his shirt where my hands lie on his back. “Do you want to stop?”

His hand snakes down to my ass, splaying wide across it. He pulls my body into his, letting me feel his hardening cock.

“I really don’t want to stop,” he breathes into my neck, just below my ear, “but I have to confess something before we go any further.”

What the hell? Does he have an STI that I need to know about? Trouble keeping it up? I mean, that doesn’t seem to be a problem, but you never know. Is he already with someone? Penelope didn’t say he had a partner, but maybe he’s kept them a secret?

We both still, Spencer breathing against my neck. I’d consider it ticklish if not for the jolt it sends straight to my core.

“I’ve been attracted to you for a long time, but I was too scared to say anything.” The words come out of Spencer’s mouth. Not mine. Holy shit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I laugh, dropping my head to Spencer’s chest in utter bewilderment. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first time we met. Penelope hasn’t stopped teasing me about it since.”

“Glad I’m not alone in that,” he laughs.

“Happy New Year, by the way,” I say, lifting my head to look at him again. Eyes, lips. Eyes, lips. 

“Happy New Year,” he breathes, hovering against my lips. Oppositely charged magnets falling in order with the laws of physics. Complying with the will of the universe.

I’ve never been kissed like this. Maybe it’s the thrill of unrequited lust finally requited, or maybe Spencer is just a really good kisser. His hands cradle my head on both sides. It’s like he could kiss you for hours and never be sick of it. Every soft, lush kiss plays against the intermittent roughness. The desperate ones, where lips are bit and tongues are engaged in the fervor. It feels wholly consuming and incomplete at the same time. 

“We don’t have to do anything else,” I say, “but to be clear, I’m definitely down if you want to.”

He shakes his head and steps back, putting distance between us. He clenches and unclenches his hands and then rubs his palms against his dress pants. 

My eyes catch on the bulge in his pants, and shamelessly, I can’t stop staring at it. I’ve imagined it before, in my most desperate, lonely moments. Right after breakups, when I’d rather escape into my imagination to soothe me. After running into him at one of Penelope’s get-togethers. I’d steal every shy glance at him, trying to memorize his features. Then I’d go home and imagine myself kissing every inch of him.

I know I probably just need a good eight to…twelve hours of sleep to clear the fog in my brain that’s making this feel like another one of my erotic daydreams. But maybe being a bit out of it is what led me to kiss him like that. If I had been at my most rational, I probably wouldn’t have.

Spencer wipes at his face. He can’t stop moving his hands. Biting a nail between his teeth. Gripping the material of his pants. Crossing and uncrossing his arms. 

“[Y/N], you have no idea how badly I want to.” My heart sinks into my stomach. There’s always a but. “But I don’t want it to happen like this.”

I nod slowly, genuinely trying to avoid letting my disappointment come across as pouting. “Okay. That’s fair.”

He looks utterly exasperated, trying to keep his hands off me, and I’ve never felt so horny and so dejected at the same time. If he didn’t clearly state that he’s into me, I can’t lie and say that I wouldn’t feel extremely rejected right now.

“I’ve thought about it before,” he says. “What it would be like… to be with you. I just don’t want the first time to be at a party, in Penelope’s guest room”

I sit back down on the bed, willing my body to cool down, but it’s a non-starter. “I’ve thought about it before. What it would be like… to be with you,” playing back in my head on an unending loop. Clenched thighs give my clit the slightest bit of attention and ease the ache every so slightly.

“I’ve thought about it too,” I say, reminiscing about the numerous dirty fantasies I’ve crafted in my head over the years. I owe far too many orgasms to my vibrator, and to imaginary Spencer praising me, begging me to cum.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “God, this is so hard.” 

Hard, indeed. I selfishly ogle the tent in his pants again, taking advantage of the fact that he’s struggling to look in my direction. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. “Do you want to leave?”

He joins me on the edge of the mattress. Again, a respectable distance between us. 

He sighs. “If I don’t leave now, I don’t think I’ll have enough self-control to stop myself.”

Yet, he’s sitting beside me, wringing his hands in his lap. 

Before I can formulate any response, he starts. “What about when the party ends?”

“I locked the door on the way in. I didn’t want anyone barging in here trying to find the bathroom. And,” I gesture to the door, the party even louder now that the champagne is flowing, “this party doesn’t die down until three, maybe four.”

“I don’t have a condom, either,” he says quietly.

I push myself up off the bed and walk over to the bedside table. I’ve stayed in this room many times. Usually, when I get drunk or high and can’t drive home. Penelope snores. As much as I love her to bits, if she didn’t have a guest bedroom, I’d be sleeping on the couch. 

I rifle through the top drawer. A couple of individually packaged toothbrushes. A couple of mini bottles of mouthwash. Charging cables. Nope, nope, nope. 

I squat down to look through the bottom drawer, consciously arching my back and popping my ass out a bit. I know they’re in here somewhere. In the back of the drawer, tucked away, is a small, colorful zipper pouch. I’ve stumbled across this pouch before, but I can safely say that I’ve never used it. I hope nobody else has, either, honestly. Tucked inside is a roll of male condoms and a few individually packaged female condoms. 

I (mentally, emotionally, spiritually) cross my fingers as I check the date printed across the wrapper. They aren’t expired. Thank fucking god. 

I rip one off at the perforated line and place it in Spencer’s hand. 

He fiddles with the foil wrapper in his fingers. Not opening it. Just turning it in his hands.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. “Here? Like this?”

“Before tonight, I honestly thought there was zero chance you liked me. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’m so incredibly horny right now that it’s actually hard to think straight.” I wrap my hand around his, and he stops fidgeting. “Is there anything else?”

My question is sincere and gentle. Is there anything else that you need to reassure you that I want this? Is there anything else you need?

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, but I was tested after,” he says.

“I was tested after my last partner.”

I start undoing my blouse. Button by button. Lower and lower. Spencer mirrors me, undoing his crisp, blue dress shirt. Button by button. Lower and lower.

“And we can stop at any point, so please let me know if there’s anything you want or don’t want,” he says.

“Same goes for you.”

I slide my blouse off and unzip my skirt at the side. With my tights already off, I’m left in just my bra and underwear, my clothes in a pile beside the bed. Spencer takes his shirt off and his pants follow. He tries his best to quickly fold them, and in two large strides, he places them on top of the dresser. 

He turns to face me. In just his underwear, I have quite the view. I don’t even think he’s fully hard, but my mouth is watering at the outline of him. The butterflies are gone, replaced by a pang of hunger. I want to lick and taste every inch of him. The mental renderings I’ve crafted of Spencer in the past are all wiped from my memory. I have no use for them anymore. I have the real thing, actively being encoded into memory. 

He comes to stand between my legs. Still seated, his veiled cock is right in front of my face. 

“[Y/N], there’s just one more question that I have to ask first.”

I can only imagine what he sees looking down at me. As I look up at him through my lashes, my wet lips and flushed, glowing cheeks sit right next to his hard cock.

Does he know that I’ve been rocking my hips and squeezing my thighs together just to pacify my throbbing clit? 

“Can we go on a real date too sometime?” he says. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, and I also don’t want this to ruin my chances with you.” 

I feel stupid for not thinking that far ahead. If he had just wanted this to be a one-night stand, I would have accepted that, even though I know I want more with him. 

I nod and kiss the front of his hip, earning a stuttered breath from him when my cheek grazes his bulge. 

“I’d love that, Spencer.” 

I drag my face across his covered cock. Everything about this—about him—is intoxicating. I breathe him in, my hands on his hips, and the scent feels like a drug I could get high off of. 

“Can you lie down?” he says. 

I have no objections. 

I rip my bra and underwear off as fast as I can manage, pulling my bra over my head instead of undoing the clasps. I toss them to the floor to join the rest of my clothes. I’m, maybe a bit shamelessly, too eager to waste any time. 

Spencer is standing next to the bed, naked, jaw slack, just stroking himself to nothing but my naked body. That’ll do great things for the ego. 

“You are…” he breathes, shaking his head. The words he’s missing hang somewhere in the air, but he doesn’t look away from me long enough to search for them.

He opens the foil wrapper, rolls the condom on, and crawls onto the bed between my legs. I expect him to just shove it in there, but instead, he drags two long fingers through my wetness, absolutely mesmerized.

“Perfect,” he says, staring at my pussy. “So perfect.” 

He slides one finger inside me and I gasp. It doesn’t fill me, but when he takes it out a moment later, I still mourn the emptiness. He takes the same finger into his mouth, eyes closed as he admires the taste of me. 

I’m pretty sure that I can’t get any hornier than I am at this moment. It’s physiologically impossible. 

“Please, Spencer. Fuck,” I whine. “I need you inside me.”

Quick pecks trace a line up my body, and Spencer kisses me, bodies pressed together like he’s never going to kiss me again. It’s deep, sloppy, and passionate. Moaning into each other’s mouths as I grip his hips. His cock is nestled in my center. I grind against it.

Breathless, Spencer lifts his body just enough to reach between us, guiding his cock to where we need it. 

I close my eyes as he enters me; I have to turn off one of my senses to process it. In the black void behind my eyelids, I can feel everything. I can hear everything. A choked moan at the back of my throat breaks free. He pushes in further. Spencer shifts from his hands to his elbows, using the leverage to slide in even more. 

“Oh, god. This is so much better than I imagined,” he says, his voice strained from pleasure.

Was Spencer thinking about me at the same time I was thinking about him? Like two lovers wondering if the other is gazing up at the moon at the same time. I open my eyes. The tufts of hair framing his face flop down, a few stray strands sticking to his face. The room is already warming and his skin glistens in it. 

“What did you think about? What did you imagine?” I ask.

He fills me to the hilt, and his lips find mine; the kiss a fierce declaration that this shared sensation in our bodies is indeed shared. Spencer is feeling the same utter bliss that I am, and the thought of that alone sends a spark to my core. I’m making him feel this good. 

Spencer remains unmoving, huffing breaths intermixed with muttered curses as he adjusts. The part where we’re united throbs like a beating heart, both of our bodies diverting blood from our brains to fuel this tryst. 

“I felt so ashamed thinking about you like that,” he whispers against my cheek, “not knowing if you wanted me, too.”

Pinned beneath him, I push my hips up against him as much as I can manage, desperate for more. Spencer’s eyes flutter closed as he matches my movements, his cock sliding in and out as we grind into each other.

“Did you think about what I’d feel like the first time? Because I thought about what you’d feel like inside me.”

Earning moans from Spencer feels like a gift. A secret that has been bestowed upon me. For my ears only. I want to wrap this secret up and hide it under my bed. To throw it in a box and padlock it shut. I want to place it in a fancy locket, one I hide under my shirt, tucked up safe against my skin where nobody else can reach it.

“I thought about that far too much.” He shakes his head. “But you’re even better than I could’ve imagined.”

He pumps into me a few more times, hard and fast, as our bodies take the wheel, chasing the zenith of pleasure. We move together as a duet. The song? A lullaby of moans, whimpers, and whispered praises.

With each thrust, his body presses against my clit.

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good, Spencer.”

He reaches a hand up to the side of my face, cradling my head and stroking my cheek with his thumb. I can feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb is icy in comparison. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He glances at my chest, and then his eyes dart as he takes in the rest of my body. “Your body is perfect.” He peppers kisses across my lips, my shoulder, my neck. Every place his lips touch stings like I’ve been branded. “Perfect,” he breathes against my neck. 

“How did I taste?” I ask, remembering Spencer licking his finger clean.

“Addictive” is the word he chooses, and thoughts of Spencer’s head between my legs—in my own bed—consume me.

He slows, almost to a stop. “Would you mind if I…?”

I finish his trailed-off sentence, not entirely sure if I’m right on the money or not. “Go down on me?” 

He nods, and a breathy, “please,” is all I can manage to squeak out. It would be damn near impossible to think of a single reason to deny this man in his request.

Between my legs—framed like a work of art—Spencer keeps his eyes locked on my face as he trails his tongue up between my lips. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh my god. Please. Please keep going.”

He moans into my pussy, wasting no time in getting into it. 

“Can I grab your head as I get close?”

He whines, “please,” against my skin, and I tell him to pinch me if he needs me to loosen my grip. 

Spencer’s long arms wrap around my thighs, keeping me from squirming away. I’ve never had anyone go down on me like this. He is feral, barely coming up for air. I reach down to slide my fingers into his hair, feeling myself inch closer and closer by the second. He’s humping the bed, large dimples forming in his plush ass. I just want to dig my nails into it.

One arm lifts from its spot around my leg. Spencer is a man on a mission. He needs that arm, that hand, those fingers. Two fingers slide inside me, and I know I’m not going to last. I squirm against him and he lets me control the penetration, keeping his hand still. His mouth, however, continues in its relentless pursuit. 

I feel like I’ve unlocked something here. This version of Spencer is unleashed. He’s had his taste of the forbidden fruit, and he’s fully invested. 

I grip his head, needing to pull him into me. Needing to control the pressure.

“Spencer, fuck.”

“Yes, baby. Please cum in my mouth.”

“I—” is all I spit out before it hits me. A tidal wave of heat and pressure that radiates from my core. I grip Spencer’s hair between my fingers and he moans even harder. I squeeze my eyes shut so hard that, when I open them, my vision is a pinhole vignetted by fuzzy white light. His tongue continues lapping at my center until my thighs trap his head, my clit unable to take anymore. 

My whole body is tingling. Every nerve in my body is on high alert. My ab muscles twitch with each jerky breath as the lingering shockwaves work through me. 

Spencer is kissing my thighs as if each space his lips touch is better than the last. He is relishing in my body. Worshipping it. 

In this state, having cum so hard that my ears are ringing, I probably wouldn’t hesitate to declare my ardent love for him. Thankfully, I have some logic system deep in my brain that remains online and protects me from stupid mistakes like that. 

“Spencer, please. Get back inside me.”

The moan that spills from us both as he slides back inside me, my pussy still throbbing with aftershocks, should be tattooed somewhere on my body. The waveform of it or whatever. My new New Year’s resolution: get a tattoo. Add that to my other New Year’s resolution: let Spencer Reid fucking rail me in every way possible.

His thrusts are already sloppier than before. “Yes, fuck. Yes. Do you know how fucking good you taste, baby? I could eat you out for hours. So perfect.” 

I grab his jaw and kiss him, tasting myself. Tasting me and him mixed together. 

“Spencer, I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

I feel tears brimming in my eyes. Exhaustion, overwhelm, pleasure, and lust well up right at the finish line. Every sporadic back-arching thrust flutters my eyelids, pushing a small tear down both sides of my face.

“The first day I met you,” he says, struggling to get the words out fluidly, “you were the most beautiful thing. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

My hands slide to his ass, and I grip the flesh. I want my nails to leave a mark. I want to claim him as my own. 

“Cum inside me, Spencer.” 

He pounds into me, hard. The passion he showed while giving me oral is back in full force. 

His head falls into the crook of my neck as he works himself to the edge, muffling the dirty string of words that escape as he falls apart. His cock twitches hard inside me as he spills into the condom. I wish he was condomless, shooting his ropes of cum deep within me. But maybe that’s just a dirty fantasy that will never come to fruition. 

Spencer peppers me with some more kisses before getting up to discard the condom in the small trash can beside the door.

“I’ll change that garbage bag before I leave,” he says.

“I’m going to have to tell her,” I say, pulling my underwear up. “I’ll have to do some laundry for sure.” I gesture to the disheveled, dirty sheets. 

“Yeah, I know. She’s nosy, so I bet she’d figure it out regardless,” he laughs. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need. With the cleanup.”

The party noise is more subdued, but it sounds like the majority of guests are still here. The small digital alarm clock beside the bed reads 1:15 AM. 

“Wanna just wait it out?” I ask, straightening out the sheets just enough to crawl under them. “I promised Penelope I’d help her clean up, anyway.”

Spencer slips in beside me and I snuggle into his side, draping my leg over his and wrapping an arm across his chest. 

“I much prefer it in here,” he says, pressing his lips to my temple. 

I kiss him one last time, long and tender, before resting my head on his shoulder. I don’t even get a word out of my mouth before I crash once more.

A sharp knock on the door jolts me and Spencer from our very deep slumber. Morning light filters through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. I rub my eyes, swiping away the remnants of such a sleep. On the plus side, I feel fucking fantastic. Spencer sits up and stretches his arms above his head.

Another knock. Much harder.

“[Y/N]?” Penelope asks through the door.

We hop out of bed to hurriedly finish redressing ourselves.

“Shit, I fell asleep last night! I’m sorry, Pen!” I yell to her.

“Is…Spencer still in there with you?”

“Yes,” I say, annoyed. “Happy now?”

“I cleared off some space on the counter and started making breakfast whenever you two are dressed!”

Previous Chapter: New Year's Eve

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[fairykazu]

is he a dog or a cat? with childe masterlist ++ cw: this is f!reader but can be read as gn, crushing && requited feelings.

the way he trailed behind you like a lost puppy during lunch; it almost made you feel pity for him. key word, almost. whatever he tried to pull during english today wasn't cool but you didn't mind it. but the way, he's acting behind you, he instantly regretted it.

but if you think about it, childe’s like a dog, fiercely loyal to the bone and willing to do anything to prove himself. he’s kind of stupid, not in a bad way of course. it’s just sometimes he acts without thinking, swinging his fists instead of using words as a weapon. other times he’s more akin to an orange cat with the way he acts, it’s like he turns off his brain whenever he hangs out with you. 

you remember when you two were playing a game of hide and seek, in your defense, he started it! he bet he could’ve found you within a minute. could he? yes, but that’s beside the point, he attacked your honor! you juked him by running to a fork, throwing a rock at a dead end and running in the opposite direction. when he reached the forked alleyway, he heard the rock in the other side, running at the speed of light. then he knocked his head against the dead end. but did you win? 

yes, that’s the most important part (an obvious lie).

…childe was fine after he hit his head of course, after you rushed towards him, helping him up. he sat on the cement floors as you circle around him with questions, checking if he was bleeding. “ajax, are you okay?” 

he was smiling like a cheeky dog, basking in the attention you gave him. if food wasn't something he'd consume, affection would definitely be his go-to. “of course, i am when you’re with me.” 

he chuckled as you rolled your eyes, punching him playfully in the arms, "okay, from that reaction, you seem to be in good shape to me."

he let out a gasp. he fixed up his attitude, immediately switching his personality from being cheeky to being solemn, tearful even. "oh, name! my forehead hurts so bad."

you tilted your head, well, it's better to play along with his antics than to ignore them. otherwise, he'd keep it up. "oh no." you dryly replied, "do you need a kiss for your boo-boo?"

childe looked up in your direction, breaking his character a bit. he was stuttering out, his freckled cheeks flustered, "really?" he cleared his throat. "i mean, ahem, i believe thats the best way for me to heal."

"really?"

it was clear that childe wouldn't believe that you would go with the kiss. but as always, he knew if he riled you up enough, bruise your ego to prove him wrong, it could happen.

maybe... well, he hopes. "...yepp!"

“if you say so, ajax.” 

he was flustered to the point his neck reddened, he didnt think it would be this easy. you leaned in close and he squeezed his eyes. but it wasn’t even a kiss, just a brief press against his skin but still he stumbled around his words, “thank you… that would surely, i mean, i know that confidently that would certainly– i mean, i know that would make me heal.” 

he’s trying to play it off as cool but internally, he knew he fumbled so bad. who says that? 

“uh-huh, c’mere, let me take you to the nurse.” 

“oh okay!” 

huh… well, he’s kind of a mix of those animals. but how do you describe that? would he be that one show, dog-cat or cat-dog?  youve seen him in a different light before but he rarely shows you what that side looks like. only once you’ve seen him as the fearful delinquent and never again.

“childe, why are you following me? don’t you have other friends?” you asked, turning your heel to stop abruptly, facing him. thankfully the road you took to go home doesn't have any crowds. otherwise, this situation could be taken in the worst way possible. childe rested his head on your shoulder, you could feel the ambience to dampen as you met his ocean eyes. 

he looked back at you, “well, name, your bodyguard is here to protect you.” 

dog. 

you rolled your eyes, “really, thats your excuse.” 

his gaze only stayed on you, “mhm, and as your bodyguard, you need to be safer around these parts.” 

“so you’re a cowboy now.” 

“no? well, i just want to say something.” 

okay, maybe a cat? 

“go on.” 

“you know in english where i acted… weird..” oh yeah, you remember now. if you recall, he was acting off. more flirty than normal, did you hate it? not exactly… but does he really need to know that? not right now. 

“there was this group of guys who were talking about you like you were an object as if you were just the girl of the week. so that’s why i was acting like we were dating. and don’t worry, i did use my words…” 

“that’s cute of you but you also fought them didn’t you?” 

“you called me cute?” 

“that’s what you focused on???” 

“that’s besides the point, you think im cuteeee.” 

“sure whatever you want.” 

he’s a dog that’s for sure. 

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

ೇ diamond eyes ― spencer reid .ᐟ

pairing .ᐟ spencer reid x plus size!reader

summary | admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

warnings | best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

wordcount | 1457

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You weren't even looking for anything serious with someone, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter

[tgmsunmontue]

From the top 4/6

IceMav, (eventual) Explicit, (background Hangster who are already established). Set post-TGM. (No dead Ice obviously).

Featuring not-mistaken identities (where they (Ice and Mav) pretend to be in the dark for REASONS), Ice is Jake's Uncle Tom, Mav is Bradley's Dad, everyone knows everyone, (un)requited love, coming out as an older person, and a little bit of a circus-vibe where Ice has a horrible realization that this is indeed his circus and these are also his monkeys.

An AU where Mav married Carole and adopted Bradley to make things easier legally. A USNA Bradley who has been very careful to separate Dad/Pete from godfather/Maverick. They had an argument prior to TGM, but it was around Maverick being careless with his life (RE: Darkstar because Bradley got the call that Maverick was missing, presumed dead). So it was about risk taking and thinking while flying, so that was happening and Bradley admits to the Dagger Squadron that Maverick is his godfather and they have a ‘complicated relationship’ which isn’t a lie per se, however it’s… complicated.

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE

PART FOUR

>>How did the sweeping go?

                Pete stares at the message and rolls his eyes, types out you tell me before deleting it. For some reason he can’t wrap his head around, Ice seems to want this faux-layer of anonymity. He’s asking Pete what he thinks. Clearly wants to know.

>>It’s an ongoing project, not one I intend to ever stop. I think it started well though.

>>What about you?

>>Ask your best friend out yet?

                He scrunches his nose as he looks at his phone, wonders how Ice is going to wiggle out of this one. He will wiggle though, Ice is nothing if not a phenomenal diplomat and has a gift with words.

>>We had dinner together. It went very well.

                Even though he was there, even though he’d seen his effect on Tom, had had the realization about just how deep Tom’s feeling went and for how long it’s still incredibly reassuring to read that Tom also thinks it went well. Very well in fact. He grins at his phone stupidly.

>>Glad to hear it.

>>What are you up to right now?

>>Packing for a work trip. Flight is this afternoon.

                Of course.

                Hawaii.

>>I’ll leave you to your packing.

>>Let me know when you land.

>>Okay.

>>If you want me to.

>>I want you to.

                The exchange leaves Pete feeling a little unmoored. Usually when they’re apart they don’t talk very much, a hangover from longer deployments when they’d send each other letters or postcards, each piece taking weeks to get there. It gives them plenty to talk about once they’re back together, but Pete wants some way to show Ice that he’s thinking about him. More than just messaging him or drowning him in flowers…

                Postcards.

                They’re not quite love letters, although maybe they could be, simply a sign that he’s thinking about him. Except the postal service is so much slower than sending immediate messages, but they’re something tangible, and Ice knows what they mean. He looks at his box of vintage postcards and smiles slowly, decides to send one to Ice’s office in Hawaii. He’s aware as he addresses it that Ice hasn’t even gone wheels-up to leave, but with the pace of the mail service he’ll likely get it halfway through his time there. And then Pete will make sure there’s a whole lot more waiting for him when he gets home.

…            …            …

                Tom isn’t used to sharing so much mundane information with Maverick. When they’re apart they’ve always gone on the assumption that no news is good news, especially considering Maverick’s exploits generally reach his ears fairly quickly. However he dutifully lets him know that he arrives safely, and Pete likewise shares his own safe arrival. In his actual messages there is an invitation from Mav to come out to his hangar for dinner a day after he’s scheduled to get back.

                He’s busy with work. While the Navy have given him special dispensation to work from North Island a lot so he can have family support while he was undergoing treatment he’s also well aware that there is a lot to try and cram in during his time here. He will need to relocate back here, once he’s given the all clear and his lips twist at the thought; the distance it will put between him and Maverick just as they seem to finally be figuring things out. Not that he doesn’t think they can deal with it.

                “Mail for you sir.”

                “Thank you.”

                He doesn’t get mail very often now, most communication is electronic, but he can’t stop his heart skipping when he sees the postcard. Even without turning it over he knows it’s from Mav, the fact it’s a vintage WW2 postcard, a pinup girl on the front encouraging people to join the Navy. He’s immediately amused. Maverick’s collection of postcards is something Tom has always poked fun at, asking him what the point of buying postcards was if he wasn’t ever going to send them. He’d replied that he liked the history of them and the pictures, and he would send them if he knew the person receiving them would really appreciate them, and if they were important enough.

                And here he is, receiving one.

                It’s not like he had any doubts but this is… this is really something. He runs a finger around the edge of the card, thinks of Pete going through all his cards and choosing one to send him. He flips it over to read, finds himself smiling at Mav’s spiky script, isn’t surprised that there’s almost no text to speak of, too used to keeping things vague and brief on the back of a postcard that anyone could read.

                T-14. M.

                He looks at the date of the postal stamp and realizes it was received and processed the day he left. Fucking Maverick.

                Swept indeed.

…            …            …

                Pete usually works on his plane when he has free time. However he’s had a different project consuming his time while Ice has been gone. This weekend he’s expecting a delivery of a few things to finish things up. While the trailer has been fine, he’s not as young as he once was, he can accept that now. He’s also not going to expect Ice to sleep in it, doesn’t think he would fit, because Bradley had complained and he’s an inch shorter than Ice.

                So his long-standing plans for the one corner of the hanger has become his top priority. A mezzanine level built over what is meant to be a permanent kitchenette. The skeleton and support structure has been built for years, and all the plumbing is in place but capped off. The cabinetry is sitting in boxes, unassembled. He doesn’t care about the kitchen, what he cares about is the space above. A bedroom of sorts. A large California king he’s ordered which is now sitting beside the P-51. Now he’s just got to figure out how the hell he’s going to get it up to the level above by himself. He’s spent time painting and laying vinyl, plastering and installing a fan over the bed, which had involved placing more beams. But he’s proud of his progress. Normally he’d have told Ice all about it, but he wants to show him. Surprise him.

                “Mav? You here?”

                “Bradley?” Pete calls out, popping his head to the side around the side-railing of the mezzanine. He could help. “Do you think you could help me lift the mattress up here?”

                “Uh…” Bradley looks at the large mattress wrapped in plastic, the matt-black frame which still needs to be fully assembled.

                “Mav… this is like a four-person job. At least. But… how about we assemble the base and set it up, then I’ll come back tomorrow with some of the others, and we can figure it out. Are you… finally settling down?”

                “Finally doing something,” Pete mumbles under his breath, but louder he says, “yeah, finally admitting my back can’t handle the thin foam mattress in the trailer.”

                “Good call.”

…            …            …

                Bradley does return the next day, after convincing all the Daggers to come with him. They’ve all been out to the hangar before, but he had said that Mav needs their help, and well, left it at that. So half of them think they’re working on the P-51, which Bradley knows won’t be happening until either Mav dies or hell freezes over, or there is something else. He’d noted the unfinished kitchenette, and he’s pretty sure with all of them pitching in they can get things to the point where he doesn’t have to worry about his god-father hurting himself through DIY. It would make a change from it happening at work, but Bradley would put money on there being other extenuating circumstances that Mav isn’t sharing, and if Bradley can help those along then he will. He and Jake have talked about it, and they just have to wait it out.

                “My dad is a plumber, I know what I’m doing…” Phoenix snaps, and Mav nods, backs away, she does indeed look like she knows what she’s doing. Fanboy and Payback have started unpacking the cabinetry and laying it out, while Coyote and Jake are discussing ropes and pulleys to lift the mattress up.

                “Did you have to get a bed this big Maverick?” Coyote asks. “It’s not like you take up that much space…”

                Bradley snorts, lets his eyes meet Jake’s who just smirks and licks over the toothpick in his mouth suggestively and Bradley rolls his eyes.

                “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to son…” Maverick says, and then Coyote is spluttering and looking embarrassed and everyone is laughing.

…            …            …

                He has sent a postcard every single day, glad that he can just slide them anonymously into the box on base near the administration block, not that he cares who knows, but he suspects Ice would prefer to keep things a little more private. Pete himself feels like yelling it from the top of the control tower every time he thinks about it, and he’ll tell Ice as much later, when he can commend Pete on his self-control and maturity in person.

                They’ve somehow, without ever discussing it, separated their communications into two very distinct avenues. The messaging app where they’re both pretending they don’t know who they’re talking to, which he has come to appreciate for how open he can be there, like asking Ice to let him know that he’s arrived somewhere safely. Finding out how Ice feels without asking him directly. Except he is asking directly, but there is this thin veil of pretense they’re both letting hang between them. He’s started to like it, especially when Ice mentioned receiving the postcard, and how much he knew it meant to be receiving it. Pete hadn’t told him there would be another one waiting at his house for every day he’s been away. He wants it to be a surprise.

                Right now they’re doing their almost regular night-time chat before Pete drops off to sleep.

>>What do you like about him?

>>Everything.

>>That’s not a proper answer.

                Pete rolls his eyes and pulls a face, even though no one can see him, settles further into bed because he’s already fallen asleep once on the sofa and it had not been great for his back.

>>What do you like?

>>About your friend?

>>I asked you first.

>>But he makes my life brighter. I always look forward to seeing him, even when I’m tired or grumpy.

                Pete snorts. If Ice is tired, then he’s grumpy, and vice versa. The fact that he looks forward to seeing Pete even when he’s feeling those things, that somehow his presence makes Ice feel better make him feel warm. Oh. Maybe Ice needs… reassurance or confirmation that Pete finds him… attractive? He’d rather do that in person. Surely Ice knows? Regardless Pete can make sure.

>>I do like everything about him.

>>He wouldn’t be my best friend if I didn’t genuinely enjoy his company. Respect him.

>>But there are things I love. Like his hands. They’re

>>They’re what?

>>Big. Capable. Clever. Elegant.

>>Oh.

                Pete chews on his bottom lip, imagines Ice in his own bed, staring at his hands and imagining how Pete feels about them. Of course, he’s imagined quite a lot more about Ice’s hands, back when he was younger, before he very firmly locked the thoughts away so he wouldn’t ever act on them. Now of course is a different matter, knowing what he knows about Ice and their new relationship trajectory.

>>I love the way he smiles.

>>He doesn’t smile often enough but it makes it even better when he does.

…            …            …

                Tom has never been so eager to get home. Most of his career one place has often been the same as another; while North Island has his sister and her family and Jake, with Mav close by when he’s not deployed, he’s never longed to be home as much as he does right now. It’s after nine at night, the porch light is the only light on, set on a timer. The taxi drops him off and Tom thanks the driver, walks up the path to his front door with weary steps. He’s tired and cold despite the warm spring night. He opens his front door and flicks off the porch light and the entryway light on, unlaces his shoes and places them on the rack; lets the familiarity of home wash over him.

                He locks the door and turns the light off again, making his way through the house towards the stairs, his eyes adjusting to the muted-light from the street lamps outside, quietly heading toward his bedroom. His bedside light is on, beside it is a large glass of water and a stack of… postcards. Then he sees the little handwritten note, recognizes the writing as Maverick’s and finds himself smiling.

                Have a shower. Drink some water. I turned your electric blanket on. Sleep well. See you tomorrow. - M

                The gestures are all sweet and he wishes Mav was here himself, so he could curl up around him and fall asleep holding him. Of course he’s too tired for anything else, but… maybe tomorrow night. He hopes so, although considering he’s going out to the hangar he’s not going to hold his breath. The trailer might rock off its stands if they had sex too vigorously. Hell. What is he even thinking, they haven’t even shared a proper kiss yet.

>>Home safe. Tired.

>>Feeling very loved.

>>Good.

>>You are loved.

>>See you tomorrow night.

FIVE

[elliehase-blog]

The Valentine's Surprise

It’s just a random day in February and Roman bursts through the door, bringing a blast of cold air from outside into Virgil’s room.

“We have a problem!”

“Hm,” Virgil replies without looking up from his book.

“It’s an emergency,” Roman says more emphatically.

Virgil lifts an eyebrow slightly. “Is the house on fire? Should I run for my life?”

“Much worse.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman unceremoniously flop down on the armchair next to him, burying his face in his arms.

“We have no date for Valentine’s Day,” he says in a tone of voice in which other people say, ‘I only have six months to live’. “Why do I think of this so late every year? Why? Why is Valentine’s Day always so sudden?”

Virgil smirks behind the pages. “Yes, it’s hard to believe that they put it so spontaneously and completely arbitrarily on February the 14th again. Is it no longer possible to rely on anything in life?”

Roman fishes for a pillow and throws it in Virgil’s direction. “Not funny, Mister Sarcasm!”

It becomes more than clear that Roman, with all his pre-Valentine’s heartbreak, isn’t going anywhere else. Virgil struggles with himself for a moment before finally putting the book aside and turning to Roman.

“Why are you bothering me with this anyway? Patton seems to me the right side to contact for your problem.”

Roman sighs deeply and tragically. “No, it has to be you,” he confesses and comes finally to the point. “You’re the one who can push this problem into focus.”

‘Ah’ thinks Virgil, only mildly surprised. No one ever comes to him for advice. Especially not Roman.

“Listen, Princey, weren’t we all agreeing on not psyching ourself out over some day and instead celebrating love in all its forms?”

He knew that the topic would come up again, no matter how well Roman coped with the whole thing on the outside. You don’t have to be a genius to realize that his thoughts still revolve around Nico Flores and the unclear relationship.

“Ugh.” Roman sighs again. “It’s just…,” he starts to explain and his voice sounds husky, as if he had a cold. “I’m Thomas’s romantic side and I should do something, right? Valentine’s Day makes me sentimental, and I want to throw around grand gestures, but… What’s the point of embracing love if you never get anything back?”

That was too much of an exaggeration, even by Roman’s standards. Virgil would like to make a sarcastic remark again, but he can’t. Not when Roman looks like that, so worked up and hurt. It always causes a strange tug in his chest that he can’t quite explain.

“Wow, that’s a gloomy way of seeing it.” Virgil swings his legs over the edge of the couch and stands up. “Come on, you stayed already for too long in my room. Breathe, okay?”

Roman allows Virgil to grab him by the arm and carefully escort him out of this dark corner of the mind.

“Better?”

“Better,” Roman agrees, but still sounding a little helpless.

It’s unbearable.

“Okay, you know what, let me show you something.”

Almost energetically, Virgil manoeuvres them in the direction of the stairs. It’s kind of surprising how little defensive Roman is about all of it. Usually, he is protesting and whining a lot more. For now, he just raises his arms in a questioning manner.

“Virge, what-” he stops abruptly. Roman has the widened, panicked gaze of a deer on the highway that suddenly and abruptly finds itself in the middle of the headlights of an approaching truck.

“Oh my goodness! Are you kidding me?! What’s… Why…?”

Virgil bites his lower lip, amused. “My pet spider wanted a friend, and you’re always into battling monsters, so…”

“No, no, no… No!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Unconditional, requited love.”

Roman looks at Virgil, then at the spider and his tiny self, and finally back to Virgil again.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Virgil crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. To be honest, he’s just a little smug about it. You can’t choose where Cupid’s arrow will land.

“What can I say, you make my spider feel special and awesome.”

The corners of Roman’s mouth twitch. It looks like a smile he’s suppressing. “I will tolerate this nonsense,” he says benevolently. “But it’s not at all solving my problem.”

Virgil should walk away now, leaving Roman behind with nothing but his self-doubts and fears. That’s at least what the old anxiety would do. Damn it, he is not the one who is usually comforting people! But then again… it’s all about family, right? At least, that’s what Patton would say.

“I can’t believe that I have to point it out.” Virgil sighs and feels a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Love always comes around for us when we least expect it. You don’t have to force anything, Roman. Accept and acknowledge what you already have. There’s a lot of affection in different ways and forms around you. You’re just not seeing it clear.”

It’s strange to have said it out loud after it’s been rumbling in his stomach like an ulcer. Strange and relieving at the same time.

Virgil clears his throat. Anyway, it’s not that he meant anyone specific. What matters is, that Roman’s face suddenly lights up with a warm, knowing smile. It makes Virgil feel a whole lot better too.

"I knew I could count on you," says Roman softly, and no one is commenting it.

💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️

I hope you enjoyed the small (not beta-read) story. I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes my german brain wasn't seeing.

[security-chief-odo]

To Love and be Loved in Return

Roy Kent x Reader

Description: Both you and Roy Kent are in love, but of course neither of you knows your feelings are requited. Who will be the first to spill the beans?

Chapter 1 - World’s Greatest Boss

Word Count: 1k

• • •

You have been working as a coaching assistant for AFC Richmond for the past six months. Though your job technically speaking is to assist the entire coaching staff, in reality, you were hired to manage Roy Kent.

Though he is an excellent coach, he is god awful at things like maintaining a schedule, filing any paperwork in a reasonable time frame, and generally dealing with the public. This is where you come in and make his life (and Rebecca’s) easier.

Your life on the other hand has gotten much harder as a result of this job. You have had a school girl crush on Roy since he was still playing for Chelsea. A crush you had assumed was just superficial and would fade as you got to know him as a coworker and a friend. If only life was ever that easy.

If anything, your crush has just gotten stronger because not only is Roy insanely hot, but he is kind, smart, and surprisingly funny. Perhaps more importantly though, he is sitting in front of your desk, not noticing as you stare at him.

“What do I have to get done this weekend?”

“Well, it’ll be a busy one for you. You need to go pick up your suit from the tailor tomorrow for the gala next weekend.”

He groaned, “I still don’t see why I have to go to that stupid thing.”

“It is quite literally in your job description Roy.” He rolls his eyes at that but lets you continue. “You have a game Tuesday, press conference after that. Do you have your shoes for the gala?”

“I’m not getting new shoes for that shit, I have a pair that’ll do. Do you have my talking points prepped for the press conference?” You hand over a bullet pointed page. “And if we lose?”

“You won’t, but that’s on the printer.” You turn in your chair to grab it but he's up and behind your desk already, skimming over the page.

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, probably”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah, probably. So I, uh, wanted to ask before, but are you going to the gala?”

“I’m office staff, I’m not sure I’m invited”

“Of course you’re fucking invited.”

“I’ll ask Rebecca about it.”

“No need, you can be my plus one.” You stop dead in your tracks at his words. Of course you want to go to the gala with Roy but there’s no way he means it like that and sitting by his side all night just might be the death of you.

“Oh um, I don’t know”

“Come on, y/n”

“I don’t have anything to wear. My wardrobe isn’t exactly fitting for a gala”

“Then I’ll buy you a dress.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m sure you had some model you were going to bring anyways.”

“I’m not that guy anymore, y/n. And anyways, you deserve to go, you’re part of the team” Right, part of the team. He’s being a good boss. That’s all he was ever doing.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll give Keeley my credit card and have her pick you up Saturday”

Returning to your emails, you began typing as you continued the conversation. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of an amazing boss?”

Right, you only see him as your boss. Nothing more. Probably never will be anything more. He just needed to accept that.“I don’t know that that’s the word the boys would use.”

“Well, maybe you should try buying all of them fancy dresses?”

“You know, that just might do the trick,” a smile threatens to cross his face, “but I don't think they’d look nearly as good.”

“Careful sir, don’t let Isaac hear you say that one.”

That one actually got a laugh out of him. “You’re right. Then I might have to bring him as my date instead–” His eyes widen as soon as the word ‘date’ leaves his mouth and he stumbles out, “not that I’m asking you as my date. I’m not. I just–”

Despite the sinking feeling in your gut, you let him off the hook. “Of course not Roy. I didn’t assume you were.”

“Right. Well. I’ll just leave you to uh, you know, I’ve got a meeting.” He rushed out, nearly slamming your door behind him. As soon as he was out of earshot, he groaned “Fuck.” Roy should have known better than to say anything. You are sweet and beautiful and fucking brilliant and he might have just ruined everything.

You are sitting in your office, having completed Roy’s schedule, you move on to Beard and Nate. There’s no way those meetings will be nearly as painful as your last one. You never thought Roy would return your feelings, but you figured you would at least have to ask before he could reject you.

Roy and you are clearly avoiding each other all day Thursday. He takes his lunch in his car. You don’t even leave your office. You wait until the end of the day to go meet with the assistant coaches about their calendars, hoping that Roy may have left early.

You aren’t quite so lucky and bump into him as you enter the locker room. Of course this knocks your papers out of your hands. You squat down to pick them up.

“Fuck,” he growls, “sorry.”

“It’s ok. I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going either.”

He extends a hand to help you up. Your hand feels nice in his and you both are holding hands for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.

With nothing left to say, you find yourself looking into his kind eyes before you are interrupted by Nate.

“Oh y/n, I was just about to come grab you for our meeting.”

“Right.” you turn to Roy, “See you tomorrow!”

He waves as he walks away, not for a second noticing where your eyes were as you watched him leave. You follow Nate back into the office for your meetings with the assistant coaches, your thoughts however stay on the head coach.

• • •

Click here for chapter 2!

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[guardarecheluna]

There's a version of life that i want, and it's just like this.

Words: 4.6K

Warnings: embarrassingly sweet fluff that may be giving you a toothache.

A/N: hi loves! Now let me tell you, THIS was self-indulgent. But I’m blaming some of you who’s asking for Harry and Y/N’s first meeting, SO, here you go, it’s absolutely filled with cliches and fluff – which is exactly what I’m into. Please let me know what you thought of this and if you'd like to hear more from them! <3

Summary: Their first meeting. Eyes searching for the other in the sea of people, clumsy, clammy hands grabbing at each other in the night, just for some sort of connection. Y/N swore up and down that love isn’t something you just find, it’s something you create. Oh, how wrong she was.

Masterlist HERE

The first meeting

It was just like that love that you read about in the books. It was fast, simple, pure and most of all, requited.

Harry and Y/N were very aware that whenever they were asked the story about how they first met, the story was often received and answered to with a sigh and a roll of their eyes. They knew, it sounded like an absolute fairytale. Not that there hadn’t been bumps in the road; there had been many, but the first night they met were free of any bumps and awkward conversations. Because when love was found, they wanted to sing it to the deep blue sea, from the high rooftops, that they had found their person. And that feeling; that night, is something no person or situation will ever take away from them - no matter how many rolled their eyes.

May 7th, 2019

“Y/N get a goddamn grip or I’m leaving without you.” Maya had yelled to Y/N from the lounge. A unusually huge glass in her hand filled with whatever alcohol she could find in Y/Ns apartment. Maya was already bothered, huffing and puffing when she arrived at Y/Ns apartment, and to find Y/N not yet ready for their outing was just one more inconvenience.

Y/N and Maya had been friends since university, and now, well into their 20s their friendship only grew more and more solid. “You need to give me a moment, Maya,” Y/N shouted back, keeping her voice as still and calm as she could, wanting Maya to calm down. Although she knew better than to use her gentle tone with Maya when she was upset, she snickered, knowing that Maya may as well be completely out of her mind by now. “Jesus fucking Christ on a boat, Y/N, don’t start.” Maya said under her breath. Y/N could hear her in the lounge, heavy feet waltzing around with angry, toddler-like steps, on a mission to get her point across that they needed to get a move on.

Y/N was just doing the finishing touches, perfume, bracelet, and a deep breath in the mirror. “Alright, we’re good,” she said, looking at herself, almost examining herself, looking for a reason to not step out of the front door. Not that there was anything holding her back besides her bed, Netflix and maybe some baking of a mudcake, but all of that just sounded much more tempting than their friend’s birthday party.

They were a small gaggle of friends from university still seeing each other now and then. They weren’t as close as Y/N and Maya were, but it was enough to see them a few times a year and get invitations to their parties. It was their friend Eli’s birthday this time, coupled with Eli’s boyfriend, who’s birthday was just around the corner.

Eli was an absolute whirlwind of a woman, energetic, social and constantly engaging with others because of it. A big party like this was Eli’s dream. She and her boyfriend, Melwin, had rented out this private property on the outskirts of London. A party pad by the lake with a huge outside area, bedrooms for all, and most importantly, a full bar. As you could guess, Eli was loaded. Or, actually, her family was. And while this party had been a bucket list thing for Eli for a long time, and it was definitely still special, it was also common for Eli to throw big parties.

Y/N and Maya had of course promised Eli that they were coming and staying over, since they had to get there with a car.

Y/N took one final look in the mirror, and then grabbed her packed bag from her chair, stuffing it with a few final things, the perfume from earlier, her trusted Aquaphor, charger and ID.

“I’m guessing I’ll be getting us there.” Y/N said, as she stepped out of her room, eyebrow rose in question of what she was witnessing. Maya was gulping down the final drops of whatever alcohol she had found in Y/N’s cupboard. Maya dragged the back of her hand against her lips making a face at the taste of the harsh alcohol, already regretting her decision of having a pre drink. “You know, we’re going to have to last until the morning, why are you doing this to yourself?” Y/N continued, laughing at Mayas face and the absolute amateur behaviour she was showing off. Maya closed her eyes, speaking slow and out of breath the big gulps of liquid she had just taken down. “You’re damn right, get your pretty ass in the car before I bring out the real hard stuff.” Maya had such a straight face, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and reply, “You’re cute, and about as intimidating as a butterfly stuck in pink candy floss, but alright.”

Y/N took the keys from Maya’s hand as she put her shoes on, standing in the doorway, with the key in the lock, ready to leave the stillness of her apartment for the weekend.

If she only knew.

Driving in London is a nightmare come to life. However, with enough pep talk and hurrahs from Maya, they finally made it to the outskirts of the city and made their way to the villa by the lake. And the house was…well it was huge.

Y/N parked beside the big timber house, looking out over the lake and the open-air party-area filled with tables, little gazeboes, a bar and string lights. They could hear the music blasting while they drove through the wooded area to get them to the house, high treetops decorating the sky and creating a perfect watercolour painting on the reflection of the lake.

Loud voices were heard from the other side of the house as they rounded up their things from the car and stepped inside. They definitely weren’t the first ones to arrive, and still, it would seem that the house was filled to the brim with people of different ages, genders and looks.

“Should we just find ourselves a room and lock us up in there?” Y/N said quietly to Maya without letting her gaze wander from the different people in the house. Maya rolled her eyes, the drink she had gulped down at Y/N’s apartment working in her system. Maya turned to look Y/N straight in the eye, with a stoney face. “Absolutely not. I’m not having another one of those nights, you’re going to drink, dance, have fun, and find a potential boyfriend. We’re done sitting inside drinking wine and whining about never finding prince charming. Done.” Ouch. Maya was maybe a little too honest with her feelings sometimes, but Y/N also knew that the looks and the shaming she was receiving was fully real and probably needed to give her a little kick.

Y/N let out a dramatic, fake sigh, “Fineeeee, but only you get me a shot in the next 7 minutes.” Maya smirked. “Well, lady, if that isn’t my specialty, what do you fancy?”

They walked into the crowd of people, arms linked together, snickering and looking around the crowd for something, or someone interesting.

Y/N was just going to steer them towards the outside bar area, eyes zeroed in on the target, when someone crashed harshly into her shoulder. “HEEY!” Maya yelled immediately when she realized what had went down.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think I had that much to drink, I’m so so sorry” A deeper, slow British accent sounded behind her. Y/N didn’t even bother to look at him, just put on a smile despite her now aching shoulder. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it, happens now and then. I actually enjoy hockey-tackling when I’m drunk so be on the lookout for when I’ve had a few shots later tonight.” Y/N said, finally meeting eyes with the force that crashed into her. A belly laughter erupted from a man, she realized. “I’ll be sure to be on the lookout, but I’ll make sure to stay out of the way just in case. What’s your name, hockey-fiend?” He said between chuckles, recovering from the laugh he let out. This was…an interesting conversation to say the least. Most people, when faced with Y/N’s witty commentary would back off immediately and just think she’s an incredibly strange person, but not him. “It’s Y/N.” She said plainly, a smirk on her glossy lips with her arm stretched out, hand for him to take. “Well, Y/N, I’m Harry. I’ll be on the lookout, let me know if you need me to be your punching bag.” He said, and he smiled. Y/N really wasn’t that bothered with men and their antics, but when Harry smiled, she true to god almost threw up. That smile was infections, it made her warm and cold at the same time, a shiver running down her back when he let go of her hand. And then he walked off, smile still sitting on his face.

Maya had been surprisingly quiet, her mouth agape when Y/N finally gained consciousness again and looked at her. “Do you realize who you just fucking tackled?” Maya whisper-screamed in Y/N’s face. Y/N knew he was familiar, she knew she had seen him somewhere, not quite being able to place him. Maybe he had been at another one of these parties. “Y/N, you just flirted with Harry fucking Styles, and guess what? You’re going to charm his goddamn pants off tonight, you’re going to hockey tackle him at least twice more and he’s going to like it.”

Well, Shit. A flush immediately settled over Y/N’s face. Did she just? There’s absolutely no way. She didn’t even mean to sound flirty, that had to be one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life. Y/N almost thinks it was good that he was famous, because he had to have so many interactions, that her embarrassing flirting and almost-tackle to the floor might just fade into the background.

“I can’t believe I fucking said that to Harry Styles, now I really have to have a shot. Or dig myself into a hole, that must be in like, the top 3 worst things I’ve ever done.” Y/N sighed, hands covering her face to hide her blushing skin. “How is he even here? Does Eli know him? Or Melwin? I’m going to lose my mind.” Y/N continued, sinking deeper into her hole of embarrassment, desperately needing to dig her way out of it. Luckily, Maya was there to drag her out of this, as usual. “Are you being for real? You understand that he flirted back, right? Hockey-fiend, my ass, let’s get drinking and I’ll snoop around for some more information about him. You’re getting laid with Harry Styles tonight, I’m fucking calling it.” Maya said, self-assured, and grabbed Y/Ns arm to head towards to bar. It was indeed time for a drink. Och seven.

It was slightly later in the evening. The sky wasn’t quite dark yet, but the string lights hanging above the outside area of the villa was giving the whole evening a much cozier feel, despite people being drunk off their asses. Y/N had was walking away from the crowd, knowing she needed a breather. Maybe a cigarette. She didn’t usually smoke, however at parties, she’d like to have one here and there. And it was a perfect excuse to get away for a moment. She could feel the alcohol in her system, but she wasn’t quite drunk, at least not yet.

As she looked around the crowd of people to find a way out, she caught his eyes again. Harry. It looked like he was standing in a circle with who she’s guessing was his friends, but the moment they made eye contact, none of them looked away. He smiled with those insanely sweet dimples, giving her a nod and then got dragged back into the conversation once more. Y/N smiled. Maybe she didn’t mess up as bad as she thought.

Y/N was sneaking away from the crowd for a moment and went down to the lake close by the house. And even though it was close enough that she could still hear the yelling, loud voices from the bar, and the music blasting lake, coming down to the still water gave her a sense of tranquillity. Still buzzing from the drinks she had ingested, she smiled to herself, like you do, and sat down in the grass by the lake.

She pulled out one of her cigarettes and lit it up. Deep strokes were inhaled and exhaled as the nicotine from the cigarette made her calm out to her fingertips.

“See, I didn’t take you as a smoker.” She heard a voice behind her. She knew it was him without even looking back, the deep, sultry voice and slight northern british accent.

“Well if you knew me, you’d know I’m not a smoker, guess you’ve got a lot to learn.” Y/N replied cheekily as he sat down beside her. Y/N hadn’t looked at him yet, he did make her nervous, for sure, her stomach churning and even though he was sat next to her, at least 20 centimetres away, it was like she could feel the heat from his body from where she was sitting. She finally decided to look up at him, eyes sparkling from the reflection of the lake and hair tousled in an annoyingly good-looking way, She drew her hand up, wordlessly offering him a drag from her cigarette. Maybe she was going to be brave today. “I’m no smoker either.” He said, and in the middle of the sentence reaching up and takin the cigarette she offered, smiling at her. “Hmm, I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you, either.” She said, pulling her knees up and resting her arms overtop. She chuckled. “Want to play 20 questions?” She continued, laughing at her youthful wording. He laughed, handing her cigarette back, “Ask away, love.”

Y/N had no idea how long they had been sitting at the lake. It could’ve been a few minutes, or hours. They asked each other ridiculous questions, answers becoming even more strange and somehow deep and more meaningful by the minute. Sometimes a scilence fell over them, thinking about what to answer the other, but it was never that awkward feeling, he was just so easy. Patient, kind, and teasing, but in the most loving way a person could be. “What does it matter if I scrunch or fold the toilet paper?” Harry asked her, laughter erupting from him, shaking his whole body. Y/N was acting offended but smiling big as she shook her head. “I feel like it says a lot about a person! And from what I’m gathering you’re a scruncher.” She said, looking at him with an accusatory look. He raised his hand as if he’s surrendering. “Alright, alright.”

Harry felt free talking to her. She was so unbothered and funny, yet still had this bottomless depth of a personality.

Harry was the type of person to fall in love quickly, he knew this. It was also an issue, because in this situation, he already knew he was in deep shit looking at her curls falling from her head to her eyes scrunching up when she smiled. He was so fucked. Y/N on the other hand, was almost surprised that she managed to keep her cool talking to him. She could tell his eyes lingered on her face a little bit longer than necessary, and how his body language had opened up to her, almost matching hers. Y/N however, wasn’t one to fall in love quickly or without rhyme or reason. She knew that falling in love would take hard work, dedication from both people and most of all, attraction. So, the feeling of her chest feeling tight when Harry laughed at her stupid comments, or how her stomach churned when their eyes met was a foreign, and new feeling to her. Was this how it was supposed to feel like the whole time? Maybe she just hadn’t found her person.

Suddenly Y/N stood up. Eyeing the lake and then looking at Harry. He knew exactly what she meant. “You can’t be serious. It’s the beginning of may, it’s going to be freezing.” He looked at her, face challenging and unserious. “Oh I’m fully serious, watch me:” Y/N replied, tugging her top over her had and pulling down her trousers, leaving her in just her underwear as she ran towards the lake and clumsily jumped in. Harry instantly looked away from her body, keeping his eyes on her face as she ripped the clothes off her body, the gentleman he was.

She was so free. And Harry hadn’t felt like that in years. As she emerged from the water, her whole body till in the water, she said, “Are you coming, or?” Dragging out her R’s as to tease him slightly.

And it was almost like he couldn’t protest as to what his body did next. He stood up and started pulling off his shoes, along with his other clothes. “Shit. I can’t even believe this.” He said quietly to himself as he focused on not toppling over from the previous alcohol he had ingested.

Y/N swam out into the depths of the water as she saw him coming into the water after her. A constant smile on his pink lips, his cheeks aching from all the laughs she had given him, he swam up behind her, diving into the water and grabbing her ankle as she tried to fight him back.

They splashed at eachother, swam, and laughed without a care in the world. Without a care that this huge party was going on just 50 metres away from them; they were in their own little bubble.

They were out of breath by now, lips turning blue in the chilly May temperature. Harry was shivering from the cold, but honestly, he could barely feel the biting water that surrounding him when he looked at her. Her now et hair perfectly slicked against her head and eyes gleaming, but he could tell that she was shivering as well.

She swam up to him, deciding to be brave, embracing the fire in her chest and the confidence from the alcohol and his loving gazes. She wrapped her legs around his hips in the water, arms around his neck as she scratched his baby hairs at the nape of his neck. She could feel his whole body tighten up as he clasped his arms around her middle. They were face to face in the water, close, close. Breaths heaving and cold, blue lips smiling. She finally had his eyes looking at hers. “Is this alright?” Harry asked, almost shyly, a furrow in his brow as if it wasn’t her who came up to him and wrapped herself around his body. She nodded. “You haven’t looked at my body even once.” She said calmly, forehead leaning against his, eyes still set on his.

He chuckled. “I..I didn’t want to without it being okay with you.” The confident and self-assured Harry she had seen earlier almost completely gone as he grabbed her closer, bringing her so that her body was flush against his. “You’re sweet. But if I remember correctly I was the one who pulled all my clothes off in front of you and dragged you into the water. I want you to look at me.” She replied to him, giving the back of his neck a scratch with her nails. She could feel the hairs on his arms standing up from goosebumps, but she couldn’t tell if it was her doing or if it was the cold water. He broke their eye contact and looked down, his forehead nudging her nose. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, “I’m in so much trouble with you.” Y/N smiled at his comment, and he looked up at her again, foreheads touching once again. Harry’s hand came up to touch her cheek, and she leaned into his hand, placing a gentle kiss on his palm. If this was in any other dimension, Y/N was sure she could see hearts in his eyes as he looked at her lips touching his palm. Y/N writhed in his arms, cold lips like magnets, wanting to button together as if the universe had them made for each other. Neither Y/N or Harry knows how long this silent dreamstate they were in lasted, switching breaths and desperately wanting to get closer. “Can i kiss you?” Harry whispered, breaking the silence between them. And before Harry could even listen for an answer from her, their lips met in a mix of warmth, magic, and desperation. Harry let a moan slip out when their lips finally touched. This was the feeling he had been chasing ever since he almost knocked her to the ground earlier in the day. The tense desperation building between them ever since they sat down at the lake and ever since he had laid eyes on her. It was her, it was all her on his mind, Harry felt like he could go crazy, just by having her lips touching his. Their kiss continued, hands touching and grabbing at their sides, hair and cheeks. As they broke their kiss they didn’t dare to speak. It felt like all of their manners and etiquette had been drained from them, letting their nature take over in overwhelmingly good kisses. “I hate to do this, but I think my toes are about to fall off of my body.” Harry whispered to her, his confidence wittiness from the start, back in his voice. Y/N gave him a “Mhm.” As he started to move them to the shoreline, limbs still tangled and frozen to each other’s bodies.

Harry put Y/N down as they reached the grass, and man, now without her body clinging to his, he could really feel the cold. He grabbed his coat that was still laying on the grass, draping it over Y/N’s shoulders. The rest of their clothes and shoes as well as the now almost empty pack of cigarettes, he scooped up in his arms. “C’mon.” He smiled to her, giving her a short kiss to her lips, leading the way around the house and to the room he was staying in for the night. She looked at him with pure adoration and love-sickness at this point, and followed along.

It was almost 3am at this point, and the party out in the garden was still in full swing, Y/N thought to herself that if she knew her friends right, they party was just now starting, and they would keep going until at least 5am, waiting for the sun to start rising.

It was Y/N’s turn to feel shy as Harry had his arm in the small of her back, letting her into his room. He immediately dropped their clothes and belongings on the floor of the hallway and dragged her with him to the bathroom. They were both shaking from the cold as Harry’s icy fingers turned on the shower and pulled her in with him, both still in their underwear. “God, I can’t even feel the bottom half of my body. Remind me to never do that again, even if it is to impress a cute boy.” Y/N stuttered out as they waited for the water to turn hot. She didn’t look at him, her eyes focusing on the water, waiting for the steam to engulf her. However, if she had looked at him, she would see the same love-sick eyes and syrupy sweet smile spreading on his features. “No more impressing cute boys, I’ll get too jealous, if I’m honest.” He said as he pulled her in under the water, their bodies immediately relaxing under the heat of the water, skin turning bright red from the change in temperature.

Their lips found each other once again, in the warm water of Harry’s shower. Hands moving to touch wherever they could. “Will you stay here with me tonight?” Harry let out between kisses.

Y/N did a crash-analysis in her head the moment he asked her. Was he looking for just a one-time thing? He was famous after all, maybe this was just how he brought home the girl’s he’d like to sleep with. No, she could swear there was something in his eyes that wasn’t just lust and looking for someone to stick his dick into, this was something else. She decided to be brave, maybe even test him, if you will.

She nodded to his question, “Yes.”

As they got out of the shower, Harry offered her some warm clothes from his suitcase. She climbed into the fluffy cloud of a bed, freshly washed with crisp white linen that made her almost let out a moan from how good it felt. She put herself in the middle of the bed, and turned to the window, closing her eyes for a moment, smiling for herself as she tried to comprehend all that happened this evening.

Harry joined her in bed, also in a fresh pair of underwear and sweats, chest bare as still flushed red from their shower. “Can I lay next to you?” Harry let out as he lifted the duvet, always asking her for permission. He really was the most careful and caring person, she was realizing. And he she felt almost dumb to have even considered that the chemistry they had was to be excused as a simple hook-up at a party. She didn’t answer him, but he helped him raise the duvet further and reached her arms out for him as an invitation. He looked at her as he got in right next to her, as their limbs once again tangled together for further connection and closeness.

And they talked, they continued talking through the night, playing with fingers, listening and laughing at anecdotes, jokes and facts.

Harry could tell her eyes was starting to droop as her speech got quieter and more slurred, words getting caught in her lips on their way out. “Shhhh,” Harry hushed her in the middle of the sentence. “Sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning; I’m not letting you out of that cliffhanger that easily though.” He continued with fondness in his voice, kissing her cheek and forehead, Y/N relaxing in his arms. Y/N let out a happy sigh of contentment as she cuddled closer to Harry’s chest, face fully burrowed into his neck and breathing in his natural scent. She was already drifting off though, there was nothing stopping her now.

They both fell asleep that night in each other’s arms, engrossed in what would bloom to become the most beautiful, important relationship they had ever had. But at that point, bundled up in each other’s arms and peacefully resting through to the late morning - they just didn’t know yet.

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 12 - Painting

Content includes: Kalim x reader, reader has a crush on Kalim (implied to be requited), reader is a painter, reader is called Prefect, maybe a little OOC

It has been a long time since you’ve had some peace and quiet. There’s always someone with a problem you’re forced to fix, and you never have any time for yourself anymore. 

But, finally, you have a break. Ace and Deuce have (begrudgingly) offered to babysit Grim for the day, and Riddle had followed up by saying he’d keep an eye on them as well. Normally, you wouldn’t trust those three together, but since Riddle is watching them, you’re sure they’ll be fine. 

Now here you are, alone and at peace. You can actually focus on things you want to do, like painting. 

You’ve always considered yourself a creative person. Painting is a hobby you picked up at an early age, and it’s something you still enjoy to this day. With how busy you’ve been lately, you haven’t been able to work on any projects, so you’re glad to finally have this opportunity. 

Today was a nice, cool day, so you decided the best thing would be to paint outside. You had no classes today, so most students were off campus, either doing something on the island or visiting home, so the school was rather quiet. A couple students lingered around, but no one bothered you as you sat beneath a large tree. 

That was until you heard a voice shouting right behind you, causing you to jump and drop the supplies you were just holding. When you turn around, you’re met with the bright smile of Kalim, and any anger you might have felt instantly melts away. 

“Hi Prefect, Whatcha doing?” He sits down beside you without even asking, but you would have offered anyway, so you don’t mind. You tell him about your plans for the day, and his eyes light up. 

“You paint? That’s amazing! We have a lot of really talented painters back home…” You nod along as he continues talking. If this were anyone else, you would have been annoyed immediately. 

However, you really like Kalim. He’s a good friend, and he’s always very sweet. He can be a bit loud sometimes, but so is everyone else around you, so you’ve gotten used to it. 

While he continues to talk, you organize your supplies, making sure all of it is easily within reach. Your sketchbook sits comfortably in your lap, and you turn to the next clean page. 

When Kalim sees what you’re doing, he quiets down, seemingly entranced by your movements. You pay no mind, a bit happy to be back to the quiet. 

You pick up your pencil first, making a rough outline to start. Kalim watches your hand move, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this quiet for this long. It’s a bit jarring, but you try not to focus on it. 

Time seems to fly after your initial conversation, and your sketching eventually turns into painting. You didn’t have much inspiration initially, but after spending some time sketching, you figured something out. 

You turned away from Kalim as you started painting, feeling a bit embarrassed at having someone watch you work. Kalim seemed to sense this and didn’t mind, turning away and messing around on his phone.

After a couple hours, you’re officially satisfied with your painting, and you place your brush down. You can feel your hand start to cramp, and you stretch it out. Kalim, noticing your movements, turns to look at you, placing down his phone. 

“Are you finished?” You nod at his question. “Can I see it?”

That makes you pause. He asked with such sincerity, but you don’t know if you want to show him. Kalim is so sweet, but he might judge you for your art. You know deep down that it’s just your insecurity talking, but you can’t help it. 

Kalim senses your hesitation, and his smile turns from bright curiosity to more tame and comforting. 

“I didn’t mean that to pressure you. If you don’t wanna show me, that’s alright!” He gently pats your arm, and you can’t help but smile at him. 

You tell him that you’re not really confident in your abilities right now, but maybe you’ll show him one day when you are. Kalim nods, understanding. 

“Well, I should probably get going. I’m sure Jamil is running around looking for me. I may have snuck off while he wasn’t looking.” Of course. You wave as he stands up, and he waves right back before turning around and wandering off. 

You sigh, picking up your sketchbook, which you had placed down earlier. Your painting stares up at you, and you smile fondly as you look at it. 

Kalim’s painted face stares back up at you, almost as bright as the real deal. Maybe one day you’ll be confident enough to show him.