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rafesproperty · 6 months ago

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Rafe Cameron x Reader GF <3

Rafe with a girlfriend that loves to read. He doesn’t get it. Really. But he’d do anything to make his girl happy. ❤️‍🩹

Just Rafe being disgustingly sweet and spoiling reader…

I wanna make a part 2 where he finds out about annotating cuz that scenario is just hillarious to me 😭 lmk if you want it!

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“Hey, baby,” Rafe mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, it was early in the morning and his voice was still rough, his hair messy and his eyes barely open as he reached for your coffee and took a sip. You were staying at Tannyhill for a while because his dad was on some family trip with Sarah and Rose.

You chuckled and reached for your coffee, snatching it from his hand. “Morning.”

He started to make coffee for himself as well, you’d normally admire his back in the white shirt he was wearing, but you were almost finished with your book so you kept reading, eyes glued to the page. Rafe noticed and looked over his shoulder at you. “Wheezie’s still sleeping?” His eyes trailed down to the table, one singular book laying there but a bunch of mini colorful papers and pens laying around it. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed there was no notebook tho. Weird.

“Mhm,” you gave a quick nod, clearly more focused on the text in your book than on him. “Made you some waffles.” You added and kept reading the page quickly. Suddenly you let out a gasp.

“What?” Rafe quickly turned around, his flight fight or fight mode on immediately. Then he let out a frustrated groan when he realised why you gasped and he leaned against the table, flexing his arms (not happy that you didn’t even look), and sneaking a glance at the page.

“Oh, my fucking God. I need to know the rest.” You let out a tortured moan and looked up at him, suddenly realising you were not alone and that your very much judgy boyfriend was staring at you. You felt your cheeks flush. “Sorry, um… it just… was intense is all.” You closed the book shut, avoiding eye contact with him.

Rafe grinned. “You’re so weird.” He mumbled and ran a hand through your hair. “So, so weird it actually makes you cute as fuck.” He whispered as he leaned down to you, you closed your eyes and purred softly at his touch. He smirked, satisfied that he finally got your attention.

You chuckled at his comment, looking up at him. You knew Rafe didn’t get it. He was very much reality-oriented and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to force him to read a book if his life depended on it. Yours maybe… but you’d probably die anyway. Plus there was no way he’d ever find the time in his schedule to read something. He was either taking care of business or spent all his free time with you and you only, and intended to keep it that way.

He went back to making coffee and you pulled out your phone, looking up the next book in the series you were currently reading. The thing is it was still a fresh release and everyone loved this series so it was sold out everywhere, hard to get and if a store had it they put an insane price on it, knowing some people would buy it anyway.

“30 fucking dollars for a paperback? Fucking assholes.” You slammed your phone down and Rafe turned around, giving you a look of genuine confusion.

“What’s wrong?” He had no idea what a paperback means, or how much books even cost. Thirty dollars sounded normal to him… cheap even.

“What’s wrong? Baby 30 bucks would be insane even for a hardcover.”

“A what?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s fucking ridiculous. They put a big price on it because they know people want it and some people will buy it but I-“

“I’ll get it for you.” Rafe stopped your rant and sat down next to you with his coffee and the waffles you made earlier.

“What? No, Rafey, no. It’s so fucking expensive.”

He genuinely grinned at your statement. “Baby, it’s 30 bucks.” He rested his hand on your knee, drawing little circles with his thumb, trying to ease your mood. He was still sleepy, normally you’d admire how pretty he looked with his hair all messy and eyes puffy.

“No. That’s not the point. It’s too much for a book. Baby a paperback is usually around 10 dollars.”

“So?”

You groaned. Oh how you wanted to rant to someone about how stupid it was, but of course Rafe didn’t understand. Where was Wheezie when you needed her?

Rafe grabbed your phone and checked the location of the bookstore. You both ate your waffles and chatted about some other things for a while. He eventually got up. “Get dressed, we’ll go get it.”

“Rafey it’s really okay-“

“Shut upppp,” it was his turn to groan in annoyance now and you chuckled at his expression. “Wanna make you happy baby, I don’t give a fuck if it costs a thousand. Get dressed.”

There was no arguing with Rafe once he made up his mind. You were on his bike within a few minutes, holding on to him as he parked in front of the bookstore. He grabbed your waist as he led you inside, holding you close to him — it was a thing he did whenever you went to public together.

You immediately knew where to look for the book you wanted, but your eyes lingered on some new releases on your way over to the fantasy isle anyway, remembering you wanted some of them.

Rafe followed closely behind, texting Barry back on his phone about something.

There were two girls standing next to the fantasy isle and you heard them rant about how overpriced this specific book is and how unfair it is. You really couldn’t agree more. You reached for it and sighed. “Oh God,” you mumbled to yourself when you saw the price. Not thirty, but thirty fucking two.

“Right?!” One of the girls looked at you, obviously also pissed off. “I mean, how greedy can they get.” She ranted.

“Yeah I threw a tantrum when I saw how much it is this morning.” You laughed and she laughed as well, the other girl adding in her own complaining and you were chatting about it for a while, talking about the events of the first book in the series. Rafe was behind you for a while but he got annoyed with Barrys shit over the phone so he found a chair to sit on and let you talk to the girls.

“Right, um, I’ll get going.” You eventually said to the girls when you noticed Rafe was now just scrolling on his phone. You didn’t really wanna keep him waiting.

“Wait you’re actually buying it?!”

“Um,” you let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, well, no… my um, boyfriend’s getting it for me.” You admitted, you didn’t want to brag but you also didn’t want to say you’re getting it and take the credit for something he’s paying for.

“Oh wow, lucky.” One of the girls smiled, sneaking a glance at him. You could tell just from the look in her eyes that she found Rafe scary. Most people did.

“I’m jealous,” the other whispered, whether about your boyfriend or the book was not clear. You smiled and said your goodbye, and went over to Rafe who was now on his feet, leaning against the wall.

He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw you only came back with that one book. “Did you fucking read the whole thing already?”

“What do you mean?” You grinned, ignoring his grumpiness.

“I thought you were picking shit. What were you doing?”

“Oh no, I was chatting with some girls. Sorry. They also had a lot to say about the pricing.” You smiled at him apologetically.

“Well yeah, but go pick more books.” He said annoyed. He didn’t really mind waiting for you but he didn’t understand why you only grabbed one.

“No, baby, this one’s already overpriced as fuck I don’t wanna-“

“For Gods sake Y/N, we’re already here. Get more. Wanna spoil you baby.” He brushed his finger against your cheek and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled at him and tried to hide your blush.

“Okay, alright. Can you—“

“Mhm,” he knew what you were asking immediately and grabbed the one you already had so you can go look at some more.

You were walking around the isles, checking out a bunch of books. You’d lie if you said you didn’t want almost every single one. As you were reading the back of some modern romance Rafe appeared behind you, he came closer to you and put one hand next to your head, leaning against you. You could feel his breath at the back of your neck and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Isn’t that just about sex?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, not noticing that the girls you were chatting to earlier were standing next to you and Rafe.

He seemed genuinely confused. “Why’d you read about it when we can do it?”

“Rafe,” you laughed again and turned around to face him, giving him a look, blushing when you noticed there were other people too.

“What? I’m serious. Bet I can make you feel better than some words on paper.” He brushed his hand against your back and you felt your whole body tense up… that is until you heard the girls next to you giggle.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled, embarassment evident in your face. But Rafe just smirked, always eager to make you flustered.

“Besides,” you added, putting the book back, “you’d be surprised what a few words on paper can do to you.”

He gave you a susprised look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah where do you think I learned all my tricks?” You said jokingly and he grinned as well.

“Dunno, you were pretty innocent before I corrupted your pretty mind.” He mumbled next to your ear and nibbled at the skin of your exposed neck, softly kissing a mark. His mark.

Rafe smirked when he noticed the way your body reacted by leaning closer to him, and reached over you to grab the book you placed back. “So we’re buying it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow. You were obviously intrigued by it, he thought.

“It doesn’t sound that interesting,” obvious lie, “’m gonna look for something else.”

“Get something else and this as well?”

“No, Rafey, books can get-“ but he just rolled his eyes and held it next to the first book you picked. Already made up his mind.

You knew he’d just get it no matter what you said. “Wait, it’s a sequel, can you—“ You looked up, not only was this store overpriced as fuck but they obviously also had zero respect for small people.

“Hm, here,” he leaned even closer, brushing his lips against your ear, trapping you a little, your back pressed against the bookshelf. “Which one?” He teased you with a smirk, his fingers brushing your hair aside to make the marks he left there the other day visible, his breath brushing over them.

Then he got the book you pointed at, leaving you shivering just a bit more. “Needing me so bad for everything…” he murmured happily.

Rafe figured quickly that you’d act all humble the whole time. You always picked up a book, read the back, smiled at it… and put it back. Every. Damn. Time. And after an hour of him waiting you had the audacity to come to him with only two books. He didn’t say anything, just got up, grabbed them from your hands and made his way to the cashier.

“Hey, princess, hold this for me.” He handed you the four books as he wanted to reach into his pocket for his wallet on the way. You took the books without questioning him, and he quickly grabbed most of the books he noticed you were checking earlier. He also grabbed the better ones, the ones that were more expensive… hardbacks? That’s what you called it, right? So quickly you didn’t even really get the chance to protest.

“Rafe-“

“Shut it,” he growled and this was the first time today he didn’t say that in a joking manner.

So you did.

“Everything alright, sir?” The cashier asked. Rafe gave her a quick nod and noticed they had some snacks — mostly chocolates — there. So he grabbed a few and added that to the pile of books.

He waited for the cashier to finish her job when you suddenly realised something.

“Rafe, wait.” You mumbled and ran off. He didn’t really understand but you came back with one more book a second later. He didn’t mind at all. Tho it didn’t really seem like your style, compared to all the other books… this one was colorful and seemed like some rom-com high school bullshit, but he didn’t question you.

“Your total’s $273, sir…”

You felt your body freeze. “Rafe you don’t-“

But he already pulled out his card without blinking an eye. “Told you to shut it.” He whispered and grabbed the bags with your books and threw his free arm around you, leading you out of the store.

He let out a sigh when you both exited the store and you were afraid for a second that it was because it really was too expensive.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

Fuck.

“The worst sugar baby ever.” He added and gave you a relaxed smile.

Oh… that’s what he meant. You felt relief as you smiled at him as well, laughing at his nickname for you.

“Thank you, baby.” You mumbled and wrapped your arms around his waist as you both made your way to his bike.

“Mhm, anything for you. Anytime.” He kissed the top of your head and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Wheezie was already up when you both returned to Tannyhill. She was excited to see all the books you got so you sat down on a couch with her and showed her everything, telling her about each one. Rafe didn’t really care… plus all the fantasy terms started to give him a headache so he minded his own business, dealing with something on his phone again, occasionally resting his hand on your thigh.

“Oh yeah, this one’s for you. I knew you wanted it.”

That caught his attention. He looked up from his phone and saw Wheezies eyes sparkle as she flipped through the book you picked for her. He felt his heart warm up. You really were thinking of his little sister too… He’s so going you wife you up one day. Probably soon.

He sneaked his arm around your waist and squeezed you gently, thanking you.

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kenwio · 4 days ago

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Joker's kid! Reader : How Batman took them in and their medbay stay

Author's note: First thing first, thank you! Many of you said good things about my work, and you made me really happy! This is not exactly a continuing, but I promise I'm working on it. It's more detailed writing about how batman took Joker's kid! reader in, and how rest of batfamily reacted

Warnings: Grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), maybe some not detailed triggers

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Cold. Dark. Filthy. That's how the corner where Joker's kid! reader was staying. Crime alley was one of if not the most awful place in the Gotham. It was certainly not a place for a child. No parent in their right mind would want their child to stay in place like this. But what is your father never was in the right place of mind? In fact, what if your father was the most crazy psychopath in the Gotham? Only you would know.

Joker was put in Arkham asylum once again, and once again his kid was taken away and left somewhere in dark corner of crime alley by some of Joker's goons. They knew that Joker will find them once again then he get out, but for now, they had only themselves.

Did you know exactly where you were? Of course no! All you knew that you didn't like the place. It was too dark, it smelled like something rotten.

You were too tired to be afraid of your surroundings and your circle, and you were really hungry. Yet, you knew that food on crime alley was hard to find, maybe you could stumble on it if you weren't to tired to get up and go wandering.

The "show" that your dad just pulled was damaging not only for the Gotham itself and it's citizens, but for you. Your task seemrd simple : just drag wepons, gun magazines, lots of different glass vials. In the process, uou were tossed around by your father and his goons, who didn't show you any mecry.

You felt really uncomfortable. Not only all your bruises and scrapes were hurting, your skin felt sicky, dirty, you could feel stickiness of messed up make up on your face, your hair, which was damaged because they were dyed green, felt greasy, the costume your father made you wear was uncomfortable, it's stitches scratched your sided, collar of shirt and colorful tie were suffocating. Not to mention your broken shoes, which hurted from all the running.

Only light in this godforsaken place was coming form stars up above on the sky, but even they were clouded. You tried to make out them in the clouded sky, when suddenly you saw movement. The figure. Familiar figure. Without any further thought, you got up. You hastily walked, feeling wall in front of you, hoping to find stairs of fire escape and luckily for you, you found them.

Step by step, you hurried, knowing he moved fast, but you knew you must keep up with him. You recognized him easily, you saw him so many times, the one and only Batman, your father's archnemesis. Why you followed him? It's simple really. He may end your sufferings, or at least few of them. What he does to your father? Talks, then beats him, and puts him to Arkham asylum! First will be easy, for second you are used to thanks for your father, and last one... for last one you hope for. Now, you have no idea what it's really is or what's going on here, BUT you saw building, and it's better to be there than outside, it at least can protect you form the rain, and goodness you don't like rain, you always get cold in it and always feel bad after it. Plus, your father never seemed to look thiner while he was there, and may be there is some food? So, it would be better than a crime alley right? That was your logic.

Your small footsteps alerted the bat. He stopped in his tracks waiting for you to come up here. In his point of view, you were harmless. Yes you were Joker's child. He NEVER saw you fight, you were only running around, trembling when near Joker or goons, and hiding when fight was ending. You looked sick, scarely sick: not only clown make up and messy green hair looked so disturbing, but your injuries - they clearly were infected, your body - you looked like skin and bones, you were trembling - and he was sure it wasn't just because it was cold. What scared him the most was not your omnious similarity to Joker - which he new mostly was forced on you, and certainly reminded him of Tim as Joker Junior - but your eyes. They were just empty. He saw broken people, but kid as broken as that, he haven't.

He turned to you, looking at you with the signature spine-chilling gaze, as you were panting from running on rooftop.

-Batman, - you began, while he was silent. You didn't think through what you were going to say, but you continued - take me to the place you take all friends of pa's too, please? - your mom once told you that it was a good word, even magical, and it could help.

To say that Bruce was stunned is to say nothing. Your voice, quiet and weak, a bit slurred, lacking of any emotion but fear was not something he expected you to sound. But have he heard you even talk? No. And if he remembers correctly, he never heard you even laugh, which was strange considering your father. But, ithwrn than that, why in the world the kid would want to go there? Did they want to free their father? Were they just like him, out of their mind?

But his thoughts were interrupted by your sudden fall on the spot. It looked like you just stumbled while still standing. He walked closer, cautious, but he just saw you trying to get up, so he helped, and checked you for wepons in process, and found none. How ever he noticed how pale you were and how you were cold to touch, adding your stumbling and slurred speech he came to a conclusion, which was made him worry - you had hypothermia, and you needed warmth.

- Why do you want to go there - he asked, his voice stern, but lacking anger and distane.

- it's cold and I'm hungry. And that place looks better than streets - you mumbled.

- That's all? - he asked.

- yes - you answered adding the nod that made you dizzy.

Batman warped his cloack around you, it felt better than air, warmer. Safer.

- and what about your father? Do you want to see him - he asked, looking right in your eyes

- no, he will hit me again, and everything alredy hurts enough - your words were stumbling one on the other, but Batman listed them intently. He felt like you were honest, for some reason he felt like you don't want to be in contact with your father at all

- I have a better idea - he said, suddenly lifting you up. You were too light for his liking. He helped you to put more of his cape onto you. While carrying you to, you weren't sure to what. You just didn't moved, you hoped that he wasn't going to threw you down in building or thew you into anything, last time your father did that you didn't liked it

Few minutes after. You saw shiny and pretty car - batmobile. Inside it looked luxurious, you've never seen something so nice before, you never sited on something that soft. Was it a dream? Probably no, how can you dream of something that nice.

When Batman was to buckle the belt for you and reached his hand you flinched. Bruce didn't like that. He saw Joker hit you, but still it was too horrible to witness.You flinched again, when he put a fluffy blanket, which he took form back of car, which was there in case one of his sons needed it, over you. And the look on your face when you felt the blanket just hurted his heart even more. In your defense, you've never felt something as nice on your skin.

You finally felt warm. It's been so long since you lats felt warm and it felt so good. It didn't took much for you to fall asleep. You didn't care about anything but warmth in the moment.

A peaceful look on your face while you were asleep just broke Bruces heart. You were child of Joker, but all he could see - mistreated child. A child to add to his collection, a child for whom he can provide home.

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You woke up in place that you couldn't recognize. You even in darkness of the room, you could see it was clean and neat. It smell unfamiliar too, like some sort of chemicals your father worked with, but much softer. You could feel soothing attached to you, looking up on the side you saw the monitor from which soft light was coming. On the other side you saw IV. You could really feel pain and hunger in the moment, and it was really strange. You didn't feel like your skin was sticky anymore and you certainly was no longer dressed in the suit that your father made you wear.

Not long after you woke up, Batman came in. Your mind was to fuzzy, you were really confused, but you wanted to ask him so much things.

- am I... - you began saying, not knowing what to ask. Are you alive? Are you alright? Are you experimented on? Are you going to experience something that you won't like?

- You are safe. You need to rest so your body could recover.

You didn't felt like getting up anyway, you didn't had strength to do so anyways. You looked around again.

- sorry - you mumbled. You felt like you didn't belong to this safe and neat place, you felt like you were being a bother. Your father never let you to rest even if you felt like you were feeling not so long ago and now, you needed to do everything he asked, and if you wouldn't do it, you would be punished.

- For what? - he asked, his stern tone changed for softer one

- I probably made your car, a blanket and all in here dirty. And well, you made so much for me.

The way you said that, just broke his heart even more. You sounded like you meant those words, like you believe you are dirty in some way, and that you didn't deserve simple care.

- just focus on resting. - he answered rather strained - we will talk about everything once you will recover fully.

- but... - you suddenly felt brave enough to ask him at least something- you are helping me? Why? I mean, you know who is my father.

- you are not him, and your path may be different from him. Now, rest - he said gently putting your hand on your shoulder.

- oh. Okay, thank you. For everything so far- you answered, feeling sleepy and ready to doze of again, as Batman continued to look at you.

As Bruce looked at you, he saw that eerie similarity between you and your father seemed to subside once your skin was clean from that creepy clown makeup and you were in the hospital pj. You were just a kid and kid who needed serious medical attention that he was going to provide. No child should suffer like that. No child should have a dull look in their eyes. No child should feel like they were a bother. No child should be abused by their own parents. While looking through results of all the tests he had to run to find out what was wrong with you, he saw residual traces of various chemicals that Joker used in his venom. Seemed like you were a test subject for him. Many of your scrapes and bruises, and even a few cuts, were caused by your father, which your words just confirmed earlier. Yes, you were a child of Joker, the child of one of the most dangerous people in Gotham, the threat he needs to deal with. But you were also a victim of your own father. He knows that there is a possibility that you can become like your father, but he may find a way to help you avoid this from happening. He needs it for the sake of Gotham so that the city will never see the second Joker.

Alfred was the second person you've seen when you've seen. Old butler looked at you with cation, but you could make out some warmth that was similar to Batman's.

- How are you feeling? - Alfred asked, his British accent is intact

- I'm... I'm okay? - you said. You've never seen him before, but surely he was connected the Batman if he was here. You were uncertain how to feel about old man, he seemed intimidating, not in Batman's kind of way, but still intimidating.

- not feeling pain and not feeling cold i suppose? - he asked, adjusting the IV that was connected to you

- no, I feel good? - you answered, still feeling uncertain. He walked closer to you, and helped to adjust the pillow you were laying on, fluffing it up, and of course he didn't missed the how you flinched when he reached for it. Seeing hint of sadness in the expression of the butler you decided to add - I've never been in bed as comfy

- with time, perhaps, you would get a proper comfortable bed.

Dick wasn't shocked when he heard from Bruce that he took in Joker's kid. He was dumbfounded. Why in the world! Did all the all the hits in the head finally make the old man go insane? He couldn't make out how je felt. Surely he was taking aback, angry, but he knew he couldn't judge on the spot. Peace and stability just returned to the family, and knowing Bruce, Dick knew that old man should have had a really serious reason to do something like that. And, as a peace maker of the family and a good old brother to the rest of Batman sons he is, he decided to investigate that. So he went to the manor, walked into the madbay when you were sleeping. And he understood why. You looked so tired, so pale, so small, so thin. Even your greensh hair didn't look as omnious as Joker's. They just make you look more miserable. He stayed in this medbay room until it was time to patrol. Maybe he didn't know you, but he thought you still deserved a chance to get a better life

Jason was seething with anger. Firstly, Bruce didn't kill Joker when he didn't let Jason kill Joker, then they made amends, and how after all of that Bruce was taking in Joker's bastard? The kid of his killer! What the hell? How could he?! After screaming match with Bruce and talk wholehearted talk with Dick, Jason came to the conclusion that even if Jason himself was not okay with old man's decision, and if he can't prove that he is right now, he will prove it none the less, just latter. He knows powers of redemption, but some people don't deserve it. Some people do not change. And since your father was a monster, you are probably the apple that falls not far from the tree. He sure you belong to Arkham, and he will make sure you will be there if you make any wrong step. He won't let his fate repeat.

Tim hasn't slept around.... well, he hasn't slept a few days, so at first he thought it was a joke. It has to be. But B doesn't joke like that. It felt awful, but he was sure Jason felt worse. After he heard the news, he just spaced out... by the time his coffee went cold, only then he decided to dig up some information about you so that he could rationalize what he felt. Time when he was forced to become Joker Junior was still plauging him in his nightmares. And now he was faced with real Joker Junior - you. One quick look at you through the window of medbay, one blur of your greenish hair was enough for him. He felt anxianity creeping in. Watching videos with you on them was taught for him. You reminded him of him as Joker Junior so much. You reminded him of Joker. But yet, His search showed that you were dragged to every Joker's act of crimes, but in no videos, he saw you fighting. It seemed like a good sign, but his paranoia always said danger is hiding in placed you don't expect to see it.

Not one time, not twice, Damian became a witness to his father's rather idiotic decisions, or so he thinks. And this might be one of the dumbest his father did. Why can't he understand that taking you in meant putting all family in danger. You were a danger. You are Joker's child, who knows what's going on in your mind. He may not have found evidence yet, but he certainly will do it, and he will open his father's eyes. For now, Damian decided to make sure you won't hurt his family. He will make sure you won't influence his father into anything anymore. He glares at you through the windows of medbay, taking in every little move. So what of you look no bigger than him, you still are a threat. You still are the Joker's kid.

While all of this happened, time went by, and soon, you'll be out of the madbay. Are you ready for what sure has in stocks for you?

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Thank you for reading so much! Feel free to share your opinion!

And I'm working on the next part ^-^

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mywritersmind · 2 months ago

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AT YOUR EX’S WEDDING - LN4

summary : Getting invited to your ex’s wedding isn’t ideal. Going with a douchebag from your highschool is even worse. But meeting a very attractive man in the deep of a garden? That might just make it all worth it.

listen up : suggestive comments! alcohol! wrote this forever ago and never finished but suddenly got motivated so here ya go! no part 2!!

words : 2621

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I wasted the prettiest dress I own for my ex’s wedding and a guy who’s staring at my tits. “You look upset…” His grubby little hands rub my arms, “We can leave.”

I eye the guy, blonde and pale. I shake my head and down my champagne, “I’d bet you would love that…”

I don’t look back as I walk away, just grab another glass of champagne and walk out into fresh air. My heels are hurting my feet and the setting sun is blinding me.

As soon as I get into the garden though, I feel like I can finally breathe. I can’t lie, this place is beautiful. The sky is pink and blue, the gardens are green and I can’t see them ending anytime soon.

I walk slowly, letting the cool air wash over me. I’ve got to hand it to him, his dream really did come true. He used to talk to me about a picture perfect wedding, big and white. Something that showed the value of his marriage.

We disagreed a lot after that.

I sigh and sip my drink, turning a corner to see a huge fountain. It’s surrounded by flowers, an array of colors that compliment the bright green and setting sun.

I walk slowly around it, listening to the water and faint music from the wedding.

I stop when I see someone sitting on the grass, his head leaning back on the stone of the fountain. I can’t see his whole face, just his side profile.

He’s got dark hair, curly and cut into a messy mullet. He’s wearing a suit, some buttons undone and his tie loose around his neck. In his hand lies a bottle of champagne and when he brings it to his lips, his jaw goes sharp.

I take another step and he clearly hears me because his head cocks towards me quickly. “Sorry.” I mumble as he stares blankly at me.

“Uh…” He stands quickly, looking disheveled and surprisingly attractive, “Don’t worry.” My gaze goes to the bottle in his hand and when his eyes follow, he laughs a bit, “Want me to top you off?” He eyes my own empty glass. He has an accent and I don’t know why it catches me so off guard. Maybe because he got instantly hotter?

I hesitantly smile, he’s oddly welcoming and when I step forward, he pours the sparkling drink into my glass, “Thank you. I did not want to go back in there just for a drink.” I joke but the expression on his face makes me nervous, “Shit, you’re not one of the groomsmen are you?”

He shakes his head, clearly finding this funny as a smile tugs at his lips, “No, Lucky for you, I'm just a plus one.” I nod slowly as he plops himself back down, sitting on the fountain's edge this time. He looks up at me, holding out his hand, “I’m Lando.”

Something about him feels familiar. His grip is strong and his ring makes a noise against mine. “Y/n.” I sit down next to him, sipping my drink and breathing out.

“Why are you so adamant on not going back in there, Y/n?” He says my name softly and with his accent it makes me want to melt.

I can’t help but laugh, “My ex is the groom, My date has tried to kiss me four times, and the groom's mother is drunk and won’t stop asking me why I broke up with him.”

He lets out a big laugh, “Fuck. Those are great reasons to not go back.” Shaking his head, he takes another swing of the champagne, coughing a bit.

“Why are you hiding out here?” I ask, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

“My date knows the bride but has left me for a groomsman.” He shrugs, “Not too upset though, just wanted something to do tonight.”

“Very interesting. Normal people would go out and see a movie for entertainment, not go to the wedding of someone you don’t know.”

“Well, I've met you so it worked out for the best.” He gives me a little glance and I notice his eyes. The sun is almost down but the light still shines in them, green and a bit brown.

I shake my head, “You don’t even know me.”

He scrunches his nose, keeping eye contact, “Yet my nights looking up.”

I take the bottle out of his hand because my glass is empty, bringing it to my lips and letting the liquid into my mouth. “Something about you is familiar.”

He raises a brow, taking the bottle back. “Oh?”

I would have to remember him, he’s too pretty for me to forget. “I can’t figure out what. Maybe you just have one of those faces. But then again I think I would remember you.”

He laughs, “Well clearly not because you recognize me from somewhere.” I frown, looking at his face intently, “Come on… think about it.”

So he must know me then. Otherwise, where else would I know him from? “I definitely haven’t met you, the accent alone would stick. So what is it then? Do we have mutals on instagram?”

Lando just smiles softly, “I’ve never met you. I can say that for sure.”

“So what is it? God don’t tell me you’re a model-”

“You think I'm hot enough to be a model? I’m flattered.” I roll my eyes but secretly I bite back a smile.

“You’ve definitely got the attitude of a model. Are you famous?” A slight change in his expression gives it away. “You are! What do you do? Is it embarrassing that I don’t know you?”

Lando shakes his head, “Unless you know the sport.” So he’s an athlete. His build sort of gave that away, even under the suit I can tell. But he’s not very tall and I honestly hate sports so I don’t think I'm going to get this one.

I sigh, leaning back on my hands, “I give up.”

Lando laughs again, the type of sound that makes you feel accomplished because you made it happen, “Maybe i’ll tell you later.”

“Mysterious.” I look him up and down, “That’s hot.”

He gives me a funny look, like he’s trying to figure me out, “I like you.”

I laugh a bit, looking around at the now dark gardens, the moonlight shining and matching with fairy lights around us, “Probably because you still don’t know me.”

“Fine then, Y/n.” His eyes sparkle as they land on me again, scooting closer to me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’ll be easy, I love talking about myself. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you and your ex break up?”

“Getting right into it I see…” I take another sip, “I broke up with him because he was obsessed with our future, not even in a cute way like genuinely wanted me to drop out of school. We dated in college after being friends for all of highschool.”

“So… why were you invited? I mean, no offense, but I wouldn’t invite my ex to my wedding.”

“Who knows? I was drunk when I replied to the invite and clearly did not think it through. My ex is nice though, it’s not like I'm getting champagne drunk because I'm sad, I'm happy for him.” I drink more from the bottle.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Charleston. How about you?”

“I didn’t go, I barely finished mandatory school.” I pull my heels off as he says, “I’ve never been to Charleston, I heard it’s pretty.”

“Very.” A chill washes over me as the night seems to rest over us, “How do you know your date for tonight?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “Sort of a one time thing…” Hookup. Got it. “But she was talking about how she didn’t have a date and how it would be sad so I just said I could go. Got a bit awkward when she paraded me around just to ditch me.”

“Well it all turned out well didn’t it? Now that we’re here.” His eyes are so soft and endearing as he listens to me speak.

“Why do you keep swerving your dates kiss attempts? Bad breath?” I laugh and bury my face in my hands.

“God it’s so stupid. I knew him in highschool and he always wanted to hook up with me so I knew he’d say yes… But he’s a total tool!”

Lando thinks this is quite hilarious, “Well then,” He holds up the bottle, “To our shitty dates and weird ass night.”

He pours some into my mouth, misses a bit and swears before holding my jaw and pouring more in as I’m about to start choking on my laugh and champagne.

“Fuck.” He giggles as he tries to wipe my mouth but ends up just rubbing his hand over my face, “Sorry!” He drinks as I swallow and let out a much needed laugh.

“I should handle champagne better at this point.” I raise a brow at Lando’s words and it reminds me that I truly know nothing about him.

“Can I try to guess what you play?” A slow smirk tugs at his lips, turning to me and nodding.

“Go ahead, love.” I pretend I don’t hear the nickname and try to think.

“Well it’s not football.” I screw up my face and sit criss cross to look at him better, “Tennis?” He shakes his head.

“What’s your favorite color?” I guess it’s a sport for a question then.

“Green.” Looking into his eyes and saying that feels oddly intimate. “Volleyball?”

He makes a face, “No. Favorite hobby?”

“Reading.” I shiver a bit at the cool air, “Does it involve a ball?”

I think he’s going to say yes but when he shakes his head, I frown. “Skateboarding?”

“Nope. What do you like to read?”

“Romance and mystery. Is it swimming?” That could make sense, he’s fit enough but not exactly slim.

“No. Have you ever dyed your hair?” I laugh at the question because it’s so out of the blue.

“When I was really young I had blue and pink highlights.” His eyebrows raise at this, “Oh shut up it was a great phase!”

“I’m sure it was. And I can't judge because I had a buzz once.” I cover my mouth at his words. I can not imagine that. His hair is like the cherry on top.

“I will be needing photos of that later… My last guess is gymnastics!”

“Still no.” He smiles as I groan and take another drink of champagne, “I drive.”

I sit up straighter and I'm dead serious when I say, “Monster trucks?”

He laughs out loud again, “Formula 1 cars.” My jaw actually drops at this.

“I would never have guessed! I mean, I don’t know a lot about Formula 1 anyways… but doesn’t that mean you’re like really rich?” He looks a bit shy at this which means i’m 100% right.

“And humble.” I nod.

“You really didn't know?”

“Nope. My family is into soccer and soccer only, so I never really cared about anything else.”

“I like that.”

“You like that I know nothing about your job?”

“Absolutely. I hate when people know it… Especially women.”

“Oh? So I'm a ‘woman’ to you now?”

A little smile settles on his face while he looks anywhere around the garden but me, “I think I'm a good judge of character. And I like yours.”

I’ve never had a guy express his interest in me within an hour of meeting, especially one that I found in a garden like a fucking fairy.

“Does that usually work on women?” I decide to tease him a bit.

“Not sure, I’ve never tried it. Is it working on you?” I suddenly have the feeling that he’s being serious. I can tell he’s a flirt, that’s obvious enough with who he’s here with.

Yet I just stand up and take the bottle with me, walking away from him. He follows, a rustling of his clothes and the sudden warmth of his jacket over my shoulders surprises me.

I don’t thank him, I just watch him walk quietly next to me, his eyes scanning the night sky. “What’s your last name?”

“Trying to figure out how you’ll sound with it?” I roll my eyes, “Norris. Don't lie though, Y/n Norris sounds good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I get that a lot.” We continue walking, my feet feeling the grass as I realize Lando’s holding my heels. I had left them with the intent to go back, but he just took them.

I turn to him, “So, Lando Norris.” I start walking backward, watching the way his eyes trail up and down my body. “You’ve got a good name.”

He nods, slowly walking with me, “Thank you, love.” His shirt is well fitted, his arms pressing against it and the sleeves rolled halfway up.

His eyes get wide as I'm checking him out, causing me to turn to see what he’s looking at. My jaw drops at the sight. “That’s-”

“My date!” we say in unison. I whip my head to him as he raises his brow. The two are in the midst of pulling off each other's clothes while their lips stay attached.

I slap my hand over my mouth as they turn to us. His date is very pretty and her lipstick is smeared over her mouth. My date doesn’t look embarrassed at all, just annoyed we interrupted.

“You two carry on.” I hear Lando say as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of there. We start running then, laughing and out of breath.

“I need to bleach my eyes!” I scream as Lando slows, his breathing labored.

“I think his hand was up her dress!” He looks scarred for life.

“Oh my god!” I stop, “Our dates!” I’m practically bent over laughing, “Lando, Our dates!”

“Fuck this weird ass day!” His hand tightens over mine, reminding me that he’s holding onto me still. “I need something stronger than champagne. Come back to my hotel?”

I raise a brow, teasing him, “Why Norris, I've just met you.”

His smile is slow and sexy, “I’ll save you from a one night stand and raise you whiskey and netflix. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I weirdly have trust in you.”

He wraps his arm around me, our hands still attached as we leave the grassy area, “It’s not weird. We’re just two friends who happen to be very pretty and a tad bit drunk at an ex and a random wedding.”

Lando and I spent the night laughing over drinks, room service, and how to lose a guy in ten days. He didn’t touch me besides his arm comforting me as I fell asleep next to him, and even shook his head when I joked about it being a one night thing.

His promise was never broken… more like expired and loopholed by me. I kissed him in a bookstore and he gave me a new favorite version of his smile. Soft and romantic with his eyes focused on me and his hand in mine, “And to think… it all started at your ex’s wedding.”

He sighed as we walked into the elevator, I elbowed him, “Lando, that was yesterday.” His hands went to his pockets but not before slipping his arm around mine so we’re intertwined. I looked up to see him biting back a shit eating grin as if we’ve been married for years.

I just shake my head and stare at the silver doors in front of us. Yet still, I couldn’t help but smile.

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff

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evieolo · 11 months ago

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Panty Thief

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Contains: SMUT!!/ Male masturbation / Handjobs / Male!Receiving

“Chris, can you check if my laundry’s done for me?” You call from behind your door, catching his footsteps in the hall. Chris sighs dramatically, his voice loud enough for you to hear, and stops at your door, pushing it open. “Why can’t you do it?” He proclaims, shooting a playful glare your way. He’s dressed in low-cut gray sweats and a plain black t-shirt, carrying a mix of shirts and hoodies, folded messily in his hand.

You stretch your arms out, feigning tiredness. “I don’t want to get up.” You yawn, draping your comforter more over your torso and immersing yourself further in your social media. Chris sighs, realizing since he has to do his laundry he has to get yours out of the washing machine. Begrudgingly, he heads to the laundry room, as if he wasn’t already on his way there.

The smell of fresh laundry fans Chris’ nose as he walks into the dull room, a boring room contradicting the rest of the house, with white walls—no decor, only a window with a drapy shade over it that, on sunny days, beams light into the room, the only exception of furniture being the washer-dryer.

Chris inhales, shamelessly breathing in the fumes of your coconut-scented detergent, a scent he’d grown happily accustomed to after your many years of friendship. In Chris’ mind, you had an excessive amount of clothes. You’re not a messy person if you subtract clothes from the mix; your room is always littered with your latest clothing hauls, mixed but in separate piles from your dirty laundry. When he’d gone down to the laundry room an hour ago your clothes were cycling through the wash; still now you now had one snug load to the side in a circular hamper. The hamper adjoined the running dryer which had a second batch of clothes in it.

He approaches the shaking dryer slowly—there are two minutes left in the cycle—he might as well stay in the room while he waits for yours to finish.

Chris absentmindedly picks up the detergent you use and out of boredom reads the many labels on the bottle, giving up when he reads too many ingredient words with over twenty letters in them; the bottle’s sticky at the top where Chris holds it, he doesn’t realize this until it's slipping out of his fingers. The detergent bottle falls from his hand and spills into the hamper of your clean clothing.

Chris curses silently and snatches the bottle off the haphazard mix of clothes. He sets the bottle atop the drier and inspects the pile, pulling the soiled short on top of the pile off, wincing at the damp stain. He presses a palm to the next shirt down, realizing detergent did seep past the first top. He lets out a dramatic sigh of frustration and pulls the shirt off the top of the pile—discarding it into his basket of dirty laundry, deciding he’ll wash it with his own clothes and return it to you afterward.

He peeks to the pile of your laundry now without your baggy T housing the rest of the apparel. An orange piece catches his attention. It’s his favorite color, plus, he’d never seen you wear this specific shade before. He’s curious.

Chris saunters back to your hamper and pulls the orange bottoms out of the basket. He flushes when he realizes the bottoms are not shorts. They’re panties, peachy orange with a navy frill along the hems.

The man practically freezes in place, the panties were innocently simple—nothing relatively showy but they were his favorite color. There had to be some meaning to that. Right?

Chris runs his wrist along the hem of your bottoms, meshing the fabric of them between his thumbs. The fabric is light and delicate, almost weightless to touch, running his fingers over the hem he feels the jagged texture, so thin it's almost translucent.

He imagines how they’d sit on your hips; flaunt the curve of your ass. The thought of this—of you, shifts the looseness of his pants and he feels a recognizable stiffness arise against the fabric of his boxers.

“Chris?”

You enter the room tauntingly and Chris mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He realized he’d look like a pervert in any situation so he quickly bunches your panties in his fist and pockets them.

Your eyes narrow as you realize he neglected your request and didn’t tell you that your laundry was done, “What have you been doing down here for the past ten minutes?” You ask skeptically.

Chris’ features flush red and he sucks his teeth, his mind blank of any witty remarks. He pauses for a second before speaking, “Wishing your laundry would disappear…Okay, but seriously, why do you have so many clothes?” He whines, alleviating the tension he’d created in his mind.

You laugh, opening the dryer that’d just finished its cycle with a ‘click’

“You’re just mad that I have style.” You rebuttal, a wide smile on your face.

“Mhm”

Chris swallows harshly, standing stiffly as he watches you bend down to spoon your clothes out of the dryer. His eyes focus on the curve of your ass, the way you teeter on your knees to reach the clothes in the very back. It’s not soon before he feels harsher tightening in his abdomen.

He mentally curses himself. Asking himself if he seriously got a boner from watching his best friend do laundry.

Chris makes a light grunting noise—his begrudging goodbye—before he leaves the room. You turn your head at the diminishing sound of footsteps. “Chris, I thought you were doing your laundry?” You press, curious as to why he’s leaving so soon.

Chris continues out of the room, only turning his head slightly to respond to you, “I-I’ll do it later.” He stammers, making his way up the stairs making a beeline to his bedroom.

When he reaches his room he’s flustered, his cheeks are red and you’re running through his mind. There are only two things he can think of: your ass and your panties.

Your panties that are in his pocket.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket and holds your undergarments again. The sight of the frill only turns him on further, making his hard-on tent his pants. Chris curses under his breath for the nth time before retreating to his bed, shooing away his self-accusations of him being a ‘pervert’ and deciding to do something about his boner.

He sits on his bed, scooting back against the headboard and shimmies his sweats down, pushing the band of his boxers down to reveal his hardened-cock.

Feathering a hand down to his base, he groans a sigh from the pressure his hand brings. He pumps his length upward, coaxing pre-cum from his angry tip, smearing the drops in liquid down his base as he pumps himself; picturing you as he does so.

He imagines you—bending down for him instead of a washing machine. How your hands would wrap around him, your small hands; small but oh so gentle. And fuck, those panties, he wished he could see them around your hips, how they would flaunt the curve of your ass perfectly. He’d push the cloth to the side and fuck you with them still on.

He palms your pocketed bottoms, pushing them against his cock and thrusting against the fabric, hips roiling into his hand as he moans your name.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck, yeah just like that.” He whimpers, rutting against his hand so desperately he doesn’t realize how his door creaks open.

“Chris, did you take…” you pause, unsure how to ask if he knows where your missing undergarments are, “Uhm - did you take something from my laundry bin?” You question shyly, too embarrassed to blatantly admit you can’t find your favorite panties. Your eyes are down, and you teeter on your heels, until you grow impatient with Chris’ lack of response and look at him.

Your eyes widen, and you yell out a loud “Fuck!”, meekly covering your eyes with your hands and turning away.

Chris then notices your presence, his jaw drops and his cheeks burn bright red. He tries to shuffle under his comforter, but it's to no avail; he’s sitting on top of it.

You continue to conceal your vision with your hands, only peeking through a small crack at his face until you realize where your panties are. Wet and bunched up in his hand. Your mouth falls slightly ajar in surprise, and you stop hindering your vision.

“Chris, were you jerking off to my underwear?” You ask wide-eyed.

Unsure of what to say, Chris simply nods out a quiet “yes.”

Chris stays silent. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows harshly. “Are you going to stand in my doorway like that for the rest of your life?”

You take this as an invitation to join him in his bed, sauntering to the bed’s foot, and kneeling yourself onto the mattress, crawling over his sprawled-out legs and leaving your hand dangerously close to his hard-on.

“Can I?” You hum, meeting his eyes. He nods eagerly, watching you intently. “If I had known you were this big I would’ve done this a long time ago,” you coo, feathering a hand down to his needy tip and running a thumb over in a circular motion. With this, Chris leans back and lets out an opened-mouth moan.

“Fuck Y/N,” He sighs, lazily running a hand through his hair as you start moving your hand down his shaft. Running your palm up and down and squeezing gently once you reach the tip.

“Wanna suck you off, baby.” You hum, pressing a kiss to his tip. Chris shivers at the contact, groaning at the sloppy peck, “Please.” He whines.

You puff your cheeks out, readying yourself for his size and kitten lick his tip before wrapping your lips around him, sinking your head down slightly to test the waters before speeding up a bit, filling the room with sounds of erotic spit and Chris’ loud groans.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Chris moans, knotting his hands in your hair and pushing your head down further every time you bob down. The sound of your lewd gagging nears Chris’ orgasm.

Looking at you sets him over the edge, the way your back arches towards him, to get easier access to him, how tears prod your waterline every time his dick hits your throat, the hums you let out as he knots your hair tighter and tighter.

His dick twitches in your mouth, signaling to you his upcoming release, and before you can get a breath through your nose, he's rutting his hips into you, pushing your head down to his base, breathing heavily, as his cum sloppily trickles into your mouth.

He holds your head down sternly as he comes down from his high, pushing you down against his base. When he releases his grip on your hair, you pull back, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Holy shit.” Chris mumbles, threading his fingers through his hair. You straighten your spine, positioning yourself back in a sitting position on your knees and meet eye level with Chris.

He smirks when you meet his eyes. Your face is red, and your throat is sore from the way his tip bruised your pharynx. Chris watches intently as you wipe his dripping cum off the corners of your mouth with the back of your wrist. “Where’d you learn how to suck dick like that?” He heaves, a playful undertone to his words.

“I dabble,” You smile, shrugging off his question as you give him a crooked smile.

Chris pauses for a second, opening and closing his mouth twice before he actually speaks, “Why’d we do that?” He asks, pinching his eyes shut in embarrassment.

You sense his awkwardness and scoot closer to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “Chris, this doesn’t have to change things between us; best friends fuck all the time.” You say, delicately pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Chris meets your eyes, pulling his boxers back on to leave him less exposed. “You can’t call me your best friend after sucking the life out of my dick.” He laughs.

Meeting his gaze you fold your arms in your lap, “If I shouldn’t call you my best friend, what should I call you?”

“How about boyfriend?” He winks, shifting off the bed and heading for the shower stopping to toss you your dampened panties. “Can you wear these for me tomorrow?”

#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo smut

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ghostofhyuck · 5 months ago

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NCT Dream and things in your shared apartment that makes sense.

Mark Lee ; subtle spiderman decorations.

It was a silly fandom joke but Mark took it seriously like lol okay spidermark we see you. So it makes sense that your shared apartment with him has some subtle spiderman decorations. And it's not like you two thought about it, it just happened that when you two go shopping and saw something spiderman-related, you two would buy it impulsively. There's a lego spiderman both in your apartment keys. A small spiderman figurine lay silently on the corner of bedside table. Or maybe there's a "I love Spiderman" magnet on your fridge too. Either way, it's cute and reminds you of your boyfriend so much.

Huang Renjun ; touches of your favorite color.

When you two first bought the shared apartment, you and Renjun discussed about the overall design of the flat, especially the color combination. Making sure that you two can come in terms, your apartment felt like a light spring because of the color combination. You two made it worked and it feels like home for the two of you! Also, you two are very meticulous with the design, like it took you guys a week to fully designed the whole apartment but it was worth it because it turned out so beautiful! <3

Lee Jeno ; everything comes in pairs!

Like. Literally. Everything. Is a pair. That's why the Dreamies would complain why you two only have two sets of plates and utensils, and Jeno would shrug, it's not like you two need more lol. The first thing you'll see is two pairs of home slippers, and key holder only has two hook. There's one long couch that only fits two people, and in the bathroom, there's a pair of toothbrush rest idly on the holder! But it's a cute way to show that the apartment is owned by a couple who's very minimal and tranquil with their life. <3

Lee Donghyuck ; mismatched decorations

I feel like the overall aesthetic of your shared apartment with Haechan is kinda chaotic but the more you stare at it, the more you think that hey, it's not that bad at all. Like it's fine that your collection of sonny angels is right next to Haechan's pc set-up. Or how a lego figurine of a sportscar is line-up on top of a cabinet and then, there's this cute miffy lamp next to it. Everything's just mismatched but it's your shared apartment, and no one seems to bat an eye at the confusing aesthetic of the apartment.

Na Jaemin ; photobooks as coffee table center

Okay mr. narcissism, it's no surprise that you have a set of photobooks on top of your coffee table. It probably contains: (1) pictures of you two on a vacation together, (2) portraits of the people he love the most, or (3) portraits of Dreamies! He swells in pride whenever there are guests and they would look into the photobook and just admire the portraits that he captured. Plus, it's placed in your shared apartment! He was just happy that his three kids hasn't chew the photobook yet, (and hopefully not!)

Zhong Chenle ; scattered bitten objects

It's not like your apartment's messy, but Daegal is such a hyper dog despite being your princess. She just loves to play and even though her teething phase is finished, she still lovesssss carrying objects to bite. You'll just go home to your apartment and find that Daegal had reached the throw pillow and now it's on the floor, ripped open with a few cottons on the floor and you couldn't be angry with her because she has her puppy eyes waiting for you. <3 Plus, you know how your boyfriend tolerates Daegal's biting habits lol.

Park Jisung ; a bed full of plushies

OH. Your bed with Jisung is just full of plushies and that's because you're obsessed with plushies and couldn't sleep without cuddling one. (Jisung would complain that you should just cuddle him instead.) He only have a few plushies there but you tend to just fill the bed that when morning comes, some of the plushies were already on the floor. You would pick them up and apologize for pushing them off the floor while your boyfriend just stares at you. But at the same time, he doesn't mind because it's like you two have a big family whenever he goes home and sees the pile of plushies on the bed.

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twistedlovelines · 5 months ago

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who in the twst cast lets you put a ribbon on it. (Octavinelle, Scarabia)

NSFW, MDNI, gn! reader <3

(Heartslabyul, Savannaclaw Vers.) (Pomefiore, Ignihyde Vers.)(Diasomnia, Rollo, Crewel)

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

Somehow, having only a ribbon tied around his cock makes him feel even more bare than if he had gone without it. It’s so soft and slippery that he can’t help but whine as he bucks his hips up, the fabric serving as nothing more than another cruel tease…

He’ll pout over how the fabric is messy post-orgasm haze, but immediately sets his sights on buying new ones. Surely just one singular ribbon cannot be enough to explore the full scope of this experience? ~~It doesn’t escape you that most of the fabrics he chooses are silk.~~

Jade Leech

Oh? He’s not surprised that you brought this up given how adventurous you’ve been in the past, but he finds it funny that you bought a ribbon that would match the streak in his hair. Enjoys the added texture, but he suggests that you expand this idea of yours- wouldn’t tying him up offer a more…invigorating sensation?

Will definitely send him into a rabbithole of ropes, ribbons, and other types of restraints after you bring this up to him. He wants to explore all you have to offer <3

Floyd Leech

He’s more confused on why such a small, simple scrap of fabric would turn you on, but you manage to convince him into it. It doesn’t really do much for him, but seeing how affected you are is a plus. Not super fond of silk or satin, but enjoys if you use fabrics with rougher textures- it feels good when he fucks into it <3

He generally won’t want to do anything with ribbons much, but. If he’s bored he will ask you to tie a bow around it after he’s put googly eyes on the head. You will bear witness to him treating his cock like a puppet. My condolences.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Oh he’s all for it the second you mention it. What fabrics do you think will be best? Ooh, this color might complement the color of his cock better- maybe he can even have some jewels sewn in to make it really sparkle! The most supportive of this particular endeavor, and will happily peruse through different swatches so you can make the perfect bow!

Thinks silk has a nice cooling effect when you tie it around his cock, and generally enjoys the texture! He’s pretty content to let you tie up his cock however you wish, so don’t hold back <3

Jamil Viper

Raises a brow at the fact you want to tie up only his cock at first, but doesn’t really question it after you explain your reasoning. He Will be picky about what type of ribbon you use around him, though…he’s fussy when it comes to things like this! Allows you to tie a ribbon around his cock so long as you let him repay the favor later <3

The visual doesn’t do much for him, but he’s pleasantly surprised once it’s tied around him and it stimulates him a bit with every movement. Discover he gets even more heated if you tug on the bow while jerking him off, but won’t say as much unless you ask him to

a/n: will be doing the other dorms, but lmk if you want me to elaborate! Reblogs and comments appreciated <33

#moth.flutters #nsfvv #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst smut #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader

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sanguineterrain · 8 months ago

Note

Hello! I recently found your blog and bruh I'M SMITTEN by your works.

Would it be alright if I requested Jason Todd x gn reader (also vigilante but only works on small cases and in safer places... Jason wouldn't let them anywhere else after a heavy injury they sustained in the past)...

Maybe they're searching for clues in one of the alleys and reader finds a baby there and takes it home (or maybe they fall upon a tired-looking woman throwing her baby over the bridge, reader manages to catch it but when they get back up the woman is gone)? Just overall how would Jason react to his partner finding a kid and bringing it home and what would happen after.

I made myself laugh bc I thought Jason would be like "good thing you went home and not to a bat cave, can't handle another sibling, the last one is already a living hell.

And I wanted to ask if it would be alright if I requested more than just one thing? Completely fine if not.

❤️❤️❤️

This is a super cute prompt!! Thanks for sending it in. And yes feel free to send more than one request ��

Jason Todd x gn!reader. Abandoned baby, established relationship, Jason being a cutie patootie.

****

You find the baby in a grocery store basket stuffed with blankets behind a Walmart.

She's a tiny thing, with fat cheeks and a permanent wrinkle between her brow. She's frighteningly quiet.

You take her home.

Home has become synonymous with Jason's apartment. At some point, it just made more sense for you to move in long-term. Jason had gingerly brought it up to you one night and kissed you hard when you'd said yes.

You pick up some formula on the way home and a few other things. The baby starts to cry after a bit, to your relief, and after feeding and changing her, you sway her until she falls asleep.

You're content to hold her until you get a crib. You fully intend to do so.

You hear the first lock turn, then the second, then the third. There's no worry that Jason will wake the baby; he always enters a building like he's casing it.

You have the TV turned down low, channel switched to some late-night sitcom. Jason comes in and closes the door with his foot. He takes off his helmet, revealing his messy curls. You smile.

"Hey, Jaybird," you say.

Jason glances at you as he walks to the bedroom, unzipping his vest as he goes. He grins tiredly.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hello, baby."

You watch him disappear into the bedroom. The baby is still fast asleep. You adjust your legs to get more comfortable in the chair.

Jason backs out of the room a moment later, gear still on. His vest is half-unzipped.

"That's a baby," he says.

You nod. "Yep."

Jason pulls a face like he's doing calculus in his head. "Did—do we have a... did I...?"

"How would that even work, Jason?"

"Look, there's many ways that can happen! Y'know how many freakin' clones are in this city? My freakazoid brother could get you a genetically engineered baby in twelve hours."

"She is an organically produced baby not related to either of us. Okay?"

"Oh. Sure, yeah." Jason starts to turn, then comes back. "Wait, no, I still have questions. Why do you have a baby?"

"I found her."

Jason squints at you, then at the baby. "You found her."

"Uh-huh."

"I don't think that'll hold up in court, sweets."

"Relax, Jason. I'm ninety-nine percent sure she was abandoned. I found her behind a Walmart. I know I could've dropped her at the hospital, but I just..." You look down at her sleeping face. "She's just so little. And she needs human contact. Nurses are already overworked as it is. What harm is in taking her home?"

"Yeah, y'know what that is? A siren song. Pretty soon, you'll be fitting her for a domino mask and dressing her like a traffic light."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be silly. I wouldn't dare try to take Damian's title. Plus, traffic light color palettes are so outdated."

Jason pouts. "Are not."

You carefully stand, baby in your arms, and walk over to peck Jason on his cheek.

"Are too. Wanna hold her?"

Jason looks at her like she's a bomb. "I dunno. I might... what if I... hurt her?"

You frown. "You wouldn't hurt her, Jaybird."

"I might hold her wrong or make her cry, and then I'll have to throw myself off the roof."

"You are such a drama king. She's sleeping like a log. You won't wake her unless you scream in her ear."

Before Jason can reply, you're unloading her into his arms. He jumps into action, arms and hands awkward but trying. You smile gently.

"Put her head in the crook of your elbow. Yeah, good. Support her butt. Both arms. Yeah, good! Good job, honey."

You pat his arm. Jason looks spooked for a second, then seems to relax when she doesn't stir. She's cradled in his arms like she was made to fit there.

"Isn't she so cute?" you whisper.

"She is really cute. So small. God." He watches her for a moment, mouth downturned. "I was a small baby too."

"I bet you were a cute baby," you say, tucking a curl behind Jason's ear.

"Oh, sure. People came from all over the world to have a gander at the cutest baby on the planet. Looks like she's taken my title."

Jason starts to sway lightly, holding her like she's gold. You feel your face soften.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he looks up after a moment like he's expecting you to correct his posture. "What?"

You shake your head. "Nothing. Just... I'm just really in love with you, Jay."

Jason's cheeks turn pink. He bites the inside of his cheek.

"Oh. I'm, uh, really in love with you too."

You kiss him properly for that, and Jason hums into your mouth, then pulls back slightly.

"We can't keep the baby. Y'know that, right? I gotta marry you properly first," Jason says against your lips.

"This is the twenty-first century, buddy. People keep babies all the time, unwed or not."

"Yeah, I know. Still wanna marry you first."

You look down at the baby and give her an air kiss. Then you look up at Jason, putting on the saddest face you can muster. He sighs.

"Well," he says, gently touching her fingers. "Maybe we can keep her for a little while."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x gender neutral reader #red hood x y/n #dc fanfic #batman fanfiction #jason todd imagine #inbox #blurb

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clairdelunelove · 7 months ago

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it's the way that having itadori yuuji as your best friend would be disastrous if you ever dated someone else. it's not glaringly obvious the first couple of times your significant other spots you with the blushy haired male; waiting for you outside the shop's fitting room, surprising you with a freshly baked dessert from the local bakery, or ruffling your hair when you announce some positive news. but it's the tiny details that are automatically picked at and asked about first.

'we're just super close, that's all,' you once confessed to them when they confronted you about it.

and sure, the word close was an understatement when (on more than one occasion) your partner caught yuuji's gleaming eyes fixated on your glossy lips. or how, when the three of you are eating out at a restaurant, yuuji intentionally reaches over the table to swipe at the corner of your mouth due to your messy eating. only to bring his thumb back to his lips to lick it off with a light-hearted hum. it certainly doesn't sit too well with the new boyfriend you managed to woo. thus, questions are raised, arguments get heated, and you've given the exact same reasoning every time they interrogate you.

'he's naturally friendly to everyone.'

'he's just a nice guy!'

because who was your new partner to say that you couldn't spend time with yuuji? what would that make them? the villain, obviously. because yuuji's extremely likable. he laughs at cliche jokes, only makes promises he can keep, and goes the extra mile to include everyone in conversation. his character is unmatched. there are many that aim to be a fraction of the man that yuuji is. he even goes out of his way to guide the elderly across the street or helps carry the grocery bags for single mothers. and the notion that all your exes can agree on is that, it's crazy, but yuuji's almost too perfect. equipped with a beaming grin and boyish charm that captivates the hearts of others. not to mention the ripples of raw muscle that he conceals beneath layers of clothes; don't even get your previous boyfriends started on that.

because, for some odd reason, there’s always a scenario that comes up where yuuji has to strip in front of you. he spills water on his hoodie or you’re cold so he gives you his jacket; whatever happens and suddenly your gaze shifts greedily to the expanse of skin that’s unveiled to you. the golden, veiny physique that he rarely flaunts despite how much you unknowingly hint towards appreciating.

and they just can’t fathom how to compete. this guy is the epitome of the trope ‘the boy next door.’ yet, there are some that set out to outdo yuuji. the ones that refuse to give up due to pride and jealousy. they tell themselves that they won’t lose to some wide-eyed, blushy haired friend. and it’s that hot, boiling pride that later comes back to bite them.

because like the descent of quicksand, once it starts– it doesn’t stop. as in, yuuji completely outshines them in every way.

like the time where your boyfriend invited you out to the newest bar that just opened up in town. it’s preppy with their illuminated, colorful ceiling lights and booming music– the perfect place for sprightly young adults to relax and enjoy the evening. and perhaps it would’ve been enjoyable if you were in the right mood to revel in the electric energy. but you weren’t.

“I’m just not feeling up for it,” you explain while sheepishly biting your lip, “kinda just wanted to stay in tonight. can we do that instead?”

yet your boyfriend dismisses your suggestion with a wave of his hand and reassures you that you’ll love it. this place had an incredible rating, after all. you’ll enjoy it and it’ll be better if the two of you leave early to get decent parking. plus it was in the busiest part of town so it was bound to be popular. ‘they have a lot of new drinks you can try,’ he spurs, ‘just suck it up this time and we can do something at my place next weekend.’

so like the people pleaser you are, you agree. perhaps you’d find it in you to live it up. bask in the thrill of a long night. but you find out rather quickly that you’re on the verge of being blinded by the flashing lights and decor. you can’t move without bumping shoulders with a stranger. you can’t think without your thoughts being rudely interrupted by drunk individuals that hiccup through an apology. you can’t even spot where your boyfriend went in this mess. and you’re just so overstimulated; head ringing with the promise of an oncoming migraine. cupping your hands over your ears, you attempt to block out the deafening music in order to actually formulate some logic on what you should do in this situation. how could he just leave you alone in this crowd? you weren’t expecting to be separated from him, let alone be left in the corner of the room. you didn’t even want to come. all your effort was for nothing. your chest feels heavy and your heart drops at the realization that you wouldn’t even be in this turmoil if he’d just listened to your unease. to put aside his own personal pleasure and attend to yours instead. your fingers are shaking. and in situations like these, where you’re on the verge of breaking down, you pull out your phone and dial the first contact that pops up.

“comin’ through!”

you hear his voice before you spot him. a crisp, clear tone that causes you to lift your gaze in desperation. and he’s on the move. wide shoulders pushing through the crowd of scantily dressed bar-goers, he curses beneath his breath and bulldozes his way to you. his soft, pink hair bobs at the rate he’s moving and the revelation that he genuinely came hits you like a freight train. because he’s here— here to rescue you from this overpriced, overcrowded bar. still, he looks out of place. clad in a loose jacket and loungewear, he certainly doesn’t fit the criteria of coming to an expensive bar. in fact, his outfit gives the impression that he haphazardly threw on whatever he could get his hands on before sprinting out the door. and little do you know, that’s exactly what he did. though, his sharp features and built physique don’t go unnoticed. there are a couple teasing remarks that leave the painted lips of women occupying the dance floor. their gaze dips to survey the bar’s newcomer. your ears burn at their advances as you shift on your feet. their words are flirtatious, frisky, and bold– saying the right compliments that’d charm typical men so they could have their way with them.

yet he treads through, undeterred, his tender gaze never leaving yours as he passes by them.

“you okay?”

it’s the first inquiry that leaves yuuji upon making his way to you. always the type to ask about someone else’s well-being before assessing his own. his brows are knitted in a frown as his soft whisper almost causes your composure to crack. and even through the bar’s blaring music you can pick up his voice from anywhere because you search for him in everything. he scours your face, shiny eyes pinballing across your soft features to check in on you.

“you actually came here for me?”

the observation leaves your lips in a breath of disbelief. on a weekend, a time where many were called into the promises of a long slumber, your best friend shows up in accordance with your plea for help. like how a superhero rescues the vulnerable civilian in those comic books that yuuji adored reading when he was younger. the tears that welled up in your reddened eyes have dried due to his arrival and your fingers itch to reach out in a need to hold him.

he blinks owlishly and scratches the back of his head, “‘course I did! you called.”

and he says it so simply; like his life’s purpose was to fulfill your happiness and beckon to your every word. crossing your arms over your chest, you’re abruptly reminded of the outfit you’re wearing. while he’s clad in clothes that are so inherently yuuji, you’re dressed in an overly extravagant getup that drapes along your curves. it’s different from the typical wardrobe that’s in your closet that he’d recognized. he steps closer to you, his comfort automatically enveloping you in warmth, and instantly starts to unzip his jacket.

“yuu,” you begin to say while glancing around, “what are you–”

“you look good.”

you freeze. it’s not the first time yuuji’s given you a compliment before, of course not. he’s an affectionate person by nature. but it’s always been said in passing— the occasional murmur before you walk out of the door or a hushed whisper as he’s leaving. the words are uttered in secrecy. he respects you and is aware that the flattering remarks are too intimate to verbalize when you’re with someone else.

doesn’t mean what he says is any less true, though.

“too much? sorry but,” he lightheartedly chuckles as he fiddles with the jacket around your shoulders, “jus’ don't like the idea of everyone seeing you like this.”

and you’re stumped, burning to the tips of your ears due to his rather endearing words. feels like fuzz is sticking to your tongue because he’s so honest. and you know he is, that’s why you adore spending time with him– you admire him for it. yuuji wouldn’t mention something so significant if it wasn’t true. and the gaze that he’s fixed upon you is like there’s nothing in the world that he finds more beautiful than you. not the sun that hangs in the morning to brighten the day. not the moon that’s barely visible from outside the building’s windows. not even the entirety of the galaxy can compare to the light that you radiate tonight. so perhaps your effort to show up wasn’t entirely in vain.

“let’s go.”

lifting his hand, he rests it against the back of your neck and starts to part the crowd for you. he’s made up his mind. enough of this stuffy, raucous club. once you called him, he already knew that this wasn’t the type of activity you wished to spend your money and time on. but don’t worry, he’ll make it all better. leave it to him. and there’s a glimmer of determination in his honeyed eyes. his fingers graze the strip of your soft skin, a sort of gentle protectiveness conveyed in his touch.

and naturally you follow him. how could you not when his grip on you is comforting yet exhilarating? enraptured by his sweet words and warmth, you erupt in goosebumps whenever he’s around. yet he’s completely unaware. instead, he cutely mumbles to himself on where the exit is, glancing at the neon illuminated signs for a clue. he was comfort, security, and need– all in one.

you let him guide you closer.

on your way out, however, the two of you end up crossing paths with your boyfriend. busy chatting up a group of distinguished, young partygoers with an amber drink in his hand. his face is flushed bright red, most likely from the alcohol and perspiration from the humidity within the room. yet, there’s a carefree grin on his face as he gossips with a girl that’s hanging by his side. the whole night you were frantically waiting for him and he was here– cozying up with people you’ve never seen. and at first, it’s anger that courses through your veins. until it morphs into confused regret. a part of you thought it was strange to spot him just as you were leaving.

yuuji notices where your dazed stare drifted off to and he carefully treads over to your boyfriend with you following his trail.

“I’m taking her home,” yuuji says.

it’s a declaration. a statement. yuuji won’t listen to any half-baked excuse or alibi that your partner might come up with.

your partner’s eyes widen at your unexpected arrival and he immediately stands up from his chair. his eyes bounce from yuuji to you, disbelief written on his face. can feel the beginnings of embarrassment lashing at him. he knows he’s messed up and gotten caught. so he does what he does best. glancing at the way yuuji’s hand is splayed on the back of your neck and the dark jacket draped on your shoulders, his brow knowingly raises towards you.

“uh, I’m surprised you’re here,” your partner acknowledges yuuji’s presence with a quick once over, “did she call you?”

and there’s no remorse in his voice. not an ounce of concern for your well-being despite the way you stand in front of him. he’s just worried about his own wounded pride due to the fact that yuuji’s upstaging him in every way. there isn’t any time to cry a river though because your brain suddenly short-circuits when yuuji’s thumb starts to absentmindedly stroke at the sensitive part of your neck. an act of comfort that causes warmth to spread throughout your body. using his grasp as leverage, he tugs you closer to him until you’re desperately gripping onto the front of his shirt and you let out a yelp of revelation. because from this angle, there’s a sharp glint in yuuji’s eyes that you've never seen before. a huff bordering a chuckle escapes from his lips.

“are you surprised? really?” yuuji asks rather rhetorically before smoothly shrugging, “I’m not surprised.”

and yuuji’s hand falls to wrap around the curve of your waist to prove his point. a knowing grin twists on his face when you instinctively curl yourself against him, a blush dusting your cheeks. your partner or rather, ex-partner, clicks his tongue while turning away. the exchange was over. and just like that, it’s obvious that yuuji’s dedication towards you has won again. he’s rescued, comforted, and bandaged up all your troubles tonight. shown you the image of reliability and trust. you’re familiar with the nature of his devotion for you is always growing and never-ending. and you might’ve made a new realization.

you’re in love with your best friend.

#jujutsu kaisen #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori x y/n #jjk x reader #yuji itadori #jujutsu itadori #yuuji fluff

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certaimromance · 22 days ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 The Boy Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: Making friends with your neighbor is one of the best things that ever happened to you, but falling in love with him? not so much.

Words: 4,1k.

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. painter!reader. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. two idiots so in love. bittersweet. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I am very excited about this, long live friends to lovers and being Spencer's neighbor (my dream).

Being a neighbor to someone like Spencer Reid had been a blessing since the first day you packed boxes of your stuff into the apartment next to his. He was kind and handsome, very much so, if you were honest. Smart but reserved, even a little shy if you looked at him too much. But most importantly, he was the kind of neighbor who would never complain about your cat, who seemed to have a particular fondness for his balcony. Whether it was knocking over his potted plants or staring curiously at his fish tank, your feline’s antics never elicited more than a gentle laugh or a patient shrug. He would simply return your wayward pet with a soft knock at your door, holding it in his arms like it was the most precious thing in the world, while you apologized profusely, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

What started as brief exchanges—usually you stammering out apologies while he reassured you it was no trouble—gradually became longer conversations. The simple, polite “Hi, this is my cat, I’m so sorry” turned into casual talks about your day or his work, which he always spoke about in vague terms. And you, feeling so guilty for the inconvenience your cat had caused, decided to bake him cookies as a peace offering. They didn’t turn out quite as you’d hoped—slightly burnt around the edges—but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he complimented their colorful sprinkles and icing, likening them to a painting by a famous artist. His sincerity disarmed you, and before you knew it, you were chatting about your love for art while he stroked your cat, his expression soft and attentive as though he’d known you forever.

So you didn't question anything and started to think of him as a friend. His nice actions with you were enough, and it was always good to have new friends, especially when they lived so close to your home.

It turned out that being Spencer's friend was a thousand times better than just being his messy neighbor, and it gave you some new things. Like a copy of the key to his apartment so you could water his plants and feed his fish when he was away at work. Plus, full access to his library, full of books with names you could barely pronounce, whenever you wanted, along with his coffee maker, which was so much better than yours, and was the perfect complement to a lecture in his comfortable sofa.

Books on philosophy, complex sciences, and psychological theories you had never heard of in your life. Each one had a colored heart-shaped post-it that Spencer had borrowed from your collection: pink for the ones you would love, yellow for the ones that might entertain you for a few minutes, red for the ones you wouldn't like at all, and purple for the ones that were in other languages, but he could translate for you if you just mentioned it. His dedication to introducing you to the world of reading was so great that he even convinced you to paint some bookmarks for him. And you took him so seriously that you made one for each of his favorite books, with paintings inspired by their contents.

Being Spencer's neighbor and friend meant having a shoulder to lean on while he helped you pay your bills and tried to fit your tight budget to cover your expenses. It always ended with two empty coffee cups on your kitchen table, your big fake smile as you tried to hold back the urge to scream because your art wasn't giving you enough to survive, his hands caressing your back and reassuring you that everything was going to be okay, that you could count on his help and his wallet if you needed it. And somehow, the next day, one of your paintings would mysteriously sell, and a bag of food would appear for your cat, as if by magic. You never had to ask—he always seemed to know when you needed a little extra help, always appearing with a gentle smile and a quiet offer.

It was one of those days when you opened the door, your hands still covered in paint, when you saw him standing there, holding a small bag of groceries. “I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but it’s really not necessary,” you said, embarrassed. You couldn’t hide the blush creeping up your neck as you set the paintbrush down and gestured to the cluttered table full of half-finished canvases. You knew what he was up to—he’d done it before, slipping in to make sure you had enough to eat and that your cat had food.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, as though trying to figure out how to explain himself without embarrassing you. “I…I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he started, looking anywhere but directly at you, “but I bought a bunch of food, and honestly, I won’t be able to eat it all. I have to work late all week, and it’ll go bad before I have a chance to use it. I thought…maybe you could use it?” He gave a half-smile, hoping it would soften the situation.

You blinked, surprised at how considerate he was being. Spencer wasn’t the type to try and make you feel bad, and you knew he was trying to help without overstepping. It wasn’t about charity—it was simply his way of offering support because he cared. You couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity, even if you felt a bit embarrassed about the situation.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said gently, trying to ward off the guilt that crept up on you. But he was already shaking his head, that familiar, apologetic look in his eyes.

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “It’s just…I hate wasting food.” He paused for a moment, as if considering something. “And if you want, I can help organize everything in your fridge. You’re probably running low on space with all the art supplies and other things. I can make room for the stuff so it doesn’t go to waste.”

You glanced over at the chaotic state of your kitchen and couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound both self-deprecating and amused. It was so true. Still, the thought of Spencer Reid—neat, meticulous Spencer—navigating your messy kitchen was both endearing and mildly mortifying.

“Okay,” you relented, wiping your hands on a towel. “That would actually be helpful. But don’t judge me for the mess, okay? It’s been…a lot lately.”

His face lit up with a small, genuine smile, his love for organization clear in the way his posture straightened. “I promise,” he said, his tone almost teasing, “no judgment.”

As he carefully unpacked the groceries, you found yourself talking without meaning to, your words spilling out like the colors on your canvas. “It’s just been hard,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly. “I’ve been applying for jobs left and right, but nothing’s coming through. And art…well, it’s not exactly paying the bills right now. I’m barely getting by again.”

Spencer paused, a container of strawberries in his hands, and turned to look at you. His brown eyes were soft with concern and something else—something that felt like quiet reassurance. He placed your favorite fruit on the counter with care before speaking.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but steady, “the last time we talked, you mentioned you used to babysit.” His words caught your attention, making you pause as you glanced over at him, unsure of where he was going with this. “Well, JJ—my friend at work—was just saying that she’s looking for a babysitter. She’s been trying to find someone reliable for a while, and I thought…well, maybe you’d be interested.”

You blinked, unsure whether you’d heard him right. Babysitting? It seemed like a lifetime ago since you’d done anything like that. You hesitated for a moment, running a hand through your hair. “I used to be a nanny when I was fifteen,” you said, feeling the weight of those words. “But, I’m not sure…I mean, I’m not exactly the same person I was back then, and I haven't interacted with kids in a while.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a reassuring smile, the kind that made you feel like you could take on the world if he believed in you. “I think you’d be great at it,” he said, his tone steady and confident. “And it wouldn’t have to be full-time—just a few hours here and there, whenever you have the time. Besides,” he added, his smile turning a little playful, “I’m their godfather, so I’d be around if you ever need help.”

The idea of him being there, silently supporting you as he always did, made the idea seem less daunting and even a little tender, almost familiar. You nodded before you realized what you were agreeing to.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll think about it.”

His hand rested lightly on your shoulder then, his touch warm and grounding. When you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

The possibility of refusing anything he asked you to do, with that perfect face that often reminded you of a tender deer, was impossible, and you had learned that over time. Just like the fact that it was completely forbidden to say out loud all the things you thought when you saw him. No extra sweet words, no overly long hugs, no thinking about the kiss you wanted to give him when he started to babble. And certainly no telling him how much you loved him—not when his gentle presence in your life was already more than you could have ever hoped for.

Being in love with someone like Spencer Reid was no blessing. Especially when his door was right next to yours and it almost seemed like you lived in the same apartment. Eating breakfast together when he wasn't out on a case for work, watching him make your favorite pancakes, and putting up pink candles to pretend it was your birthday when you were feeling too sad, and even a funny tuna cake for your cat's birthday. It was all too detailed, intimate, and personal to feel absolutely nothing for so long. Watching him slowly fall asleep on the couch while you watched a ridiculously romantic movie that you chose and he accepted because he was too tired to discuss it. He looked so relaxed, every one of his features softened, forcing you to run and get your notebook to sketch him, because he was a complete work of art. The same situation happened a thousand times; you almost had a whole notebook dedicated to him. But obviously he didn't know that, because he didn't know a lot of things.

And you were okay with that, even though it felt terrible to have to deprive a genius like him of so much information his brain wasn't even expecting.

Anything was better than watching him avoid you in the hallway, or worse, with you having to move somewhere else.

You could stand the love and desire building up inside you, and you did your best not to let it go. Maybe it wasn't the best or what you expected when you imagined what it would be like to actually fall in love with someone for the first time. But at least you had moments that gave you the energy to go on living. The hug and kiss on the cheek that he gave you every time he left for work as a promise to come back, the tender good morning messages in which he wished you good luck for the rest of the day, especially when you had a lot of things to do and he was not in a state to accompany you, or waiting for you after dinner with your friends so that you could tell him in detail what had happened, every gossip and new comment that unfortunately you now had to do over the phone. Especially this time, maybe it could not be like that.

One suggestion, coming from one of your closest friends, caught you completely off guard. “You should sleep with him,” she had said so casually, as if it were the simplest solution to an incredibly complex situation.

The words hung in the air like a joke that wasn’t really a joke. You looked at her, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what she had just said. “What?” you managed, voice a little too sharp, as you quickly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

She didn’t seem to notice your shock, leaning forward with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “I said,” she repeated, “you should sleep with him.”

You nearly choked on your juice, coughing and sputtering as the words rang in your ears. “Are you serious?” you asked, feeling your face flush a deep shade of red. The words felt out of place, especially when the one person you were most careful about—Spencer—was the subject of this absurd suggestion. “I can’t just…sleep with him.”

“Oh, come on,” she insisted, not giving up. “You’ve been in love with him forever. You need to get it out of your system. It’ll help you move on, I promise.”

The words swirled around you, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a tidal wave. Sleep with Spencer? Spencer? The man who had become such an intricate part of your life, the one who made every day brighter simply by being in it? You couldn’t even begin to picture it. It felt…wrong. It wasn’t just about the simmering desire or the longing that built up every time you looked at him. Spencer was more than that. He was a friend, a confidant, a constant in a world that had often felt uncertain. The thought of crossing that line—of turning everything you had into something fleeting, something physical—it made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just infatuation anymore. It was something deeper, something that had taken root and blossomed into something far more fragile. The idea of destroying that with a single reckless and hormonal decision? You couldn’t do it.

“No,” you said firmly, setting your glass down and crossing your arms as if physically rejecting the thought. “I can’t do that. It’s not like that with him.”

For a fleeting moment, your friend’s expression softened, but then the mischievous glint returned to her eyes. She leaned back, crossing her own arms in a show of exaggerated disbelief. “You’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you don’t think about him like that?” she challenged, arching a brow. “That you don’t fantasize about him? Please. You’re practically playing house at this point. Living next door, eating breakfast together, taking care of his godchildren—you’re practically married without the fun part.”

Her words were sharp, and they stung in ways you hadn’t expected. She wasn’t wrong, not entirely. You had thought about Spencer in ways that made your pulse race and your heart ache. You couldn’t deny that you fantasized about him—about what it would feel like to hold him, kiss him, love him in ways you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine until now. But it was more than that. It was the tenderness in his eyes when he spoke of things that mattered most and the way he held you when things felt heavy.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration, your fingers threading through the strands with a kind of restless energy. “It’s complicated,” you murmured, feeling a lump form in your throat. “He is different, okay? He’s not just some random guy I’m trying to get over. He’s Spencer.”

“Then tell him how you feel,” she shot back, her tone laced with exasperation. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping it all bottled up.”

You flinched, the words hitting you harder than you’d anticipated. “I can’t do that either,” you admitted, the confession falling from your lips like a stone sinking in water. “It would ruin everything.”

Your friend’s playful demeanor faltered for a moment, her teasing grin softening into something almost compassionate. But it didn’t last long. She leaned back in her chair, tossing her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. Don’t sleep with him. Don’t tell him how you feel. Just keep sitting around, pining, and writing bad poetry in your head. But don’t come crying to me when you’re still hopelessly in love with him a year from now.”

Her words stung, even though you knew she was right in her own blunt, infuriating way. You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when your phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a message from Spencer: Hope you have a good day. Something’s come up. I’ll be back late today.

You stared at the words, your heart sinking a little. He had a way of being so thoughtful in the simplest ways, even when his job pulled him away. It was one of the many things about him that made your feelings all the more complicated.

Your friend smirked, noticing the soft expression on your face as you read his text. “See? There it is,” she said, her tone equal parts teasing and affectionate. “If you’re not going to do anything about it, at least admit that you’re completely in love with him.”

Don’t come crying to me when you’re still hopelessly in love with him a year from now.

The words echoed in your mind even after you and your friend had parted ways, and even after several hours had passed, lingering in your brain like a buzzing that wouldn't go away even though everything inside you was screaming to make more noise and ignore it. It was as if he had opened a Pandora's box that you had been hiding for a long time, and it was something that made you feel small and foolish, lost in your own indecision. You tried to shake it all off, but his words kept echoing in your head, getting louder and louder. You couldn't confess. You couldn't risk ruining everything.

When you arrived at your building, your feet carrying you to his almost by inertia, you tried to distract yourself and do something nice: set the table, light some candles, and order dinner for two at a nearby restaurant you both liked. That had been your plan: a quiet evening together, the kind where you could pretend that everything was normal and there were no complexes on your mind. You knew Spencer would be home late, but at least he'd be there. You'd share a meal, talk about his crazy case, laugh, get so tired you'd fall asleep on the couch so he could carry you to his bed, sleep there barely touching, and then move on as usual. At least that's how you imagined it.

But as the hours passed, you realized something you didn't want to admit: He wasn't coming home anytime soon. At least not tonight.

The food was there, untouched. The candles flickered in the darkness, taunting you with their warm glow. The emptiness of the apartment reflected the feeling of emptiness gnawing at you. You sat on the couch and tried to distract yourself with your cell phone and grabbed a few books you didn't know from the shelf, but everything seemed strange. The clock on the wall was chiming louder than usual, each second getting longer and longer. Around two in the morning, you couldn't stay awake a second longer. Your eyes were heavy, and your mind was tired from the endless cycle of thoughts you had been wrestling with all day. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, the weight of your own feelings too much to bear when you didn't have Spencer or a canvas nearby to distract you.

You didn’t even hear him when he came through the door.

It wasn't until almost four in the morning that you awoke slightly, your body responding to the warmth and the soft sound of his footsteps approaching you. You found yourself curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, your head resting on the pillows and your neck aching. The dinner you had bought was still on the table, untouched, and the candles had long since been extinguished, taking away the warm, familiar atmosphere. The air smelled faintly of reheated food and something else, something familiar, something that smelled like him.

“Spencer…” Your voice was thick with sleep, the words barely leaving your mouth.

He smiled down at you, a gentle smile that seemed to reach all the way into your chest. “Sorry I’m so late…I didn't think you would wait for me,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Work ran later than I expected.”

You nodded, still half-dazed, barely able to focus on his words. But then you felt the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, gentle but grounding, and everything seemed to fall into place.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” he suggested softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve fallen asleep here.”

Before you could react, he picked you up and gently led you into his bedroom. The action was tender, so natural because it had happened more times than you could count. You didn't protest or move. Maybe it was tiredness, or maybe it was the way he made you feel so safe that you always wanted to fall asleep on his couch so he could hold you more, but you let him continue. You let him take care of you as he always did, even when you didn't ask him to.

As he tucked you into his bed, the soft sheets wrapped around your body like a comforting embrace, you murmured something tender and incoherent about him in your sleep, too far away to remember. The words poured out meaninglessly, fragments of meaningless thoughts: feelings, confusions, desires you had buried too deep to think you would ever say out loud. Spencer's hand brushed across your forehead, his thumb gently pushing away the strands of hair that clung to your skin and made you uncomfortable.

“Pretty boy,” you whispered, the words slipping out in your sleepy haze, a fragment of something you couldn’t quite capture.

Spencer’s soft laugh filled the space between you, the sound warm and comforting.

“I remember you said someone used to call you that; is that true?” you asked gently, a playful teasing tone in your voice. “You’re a pretty boy.”

“And you’re a sleepy girl,” he replied with a quiet smile, watching you drift in and out of consciousness.

“Pretty…” you murmured again, your voice barely audible, like a dream that was fading too quickly for you to hold onto.

“Yeah, pretty too,” he whispered, his voice low and rich with tenderness. His thumb traced your forehead one last time, lingering for just a moment before the weight of sleep claimed you entirely.

The bed shifted slightly as Spencer took off his shoes and climbed in beside you, his body warmth a comforting presence next to yours. He paused, just for a moment, to look at you with an expression so full of affection.

“Thanks for making this place a home, my pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to wrap around you like the sheets, even when you can’t listen.

Because he wouldn't have told you that if you were awake and aware, watching him with your bright eyes wide open. Not yet. Not if telling you meant facing the possibility that one day you might avoid him in the hallway or, worse, decide to move somewhere else. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you because he felt things he shouldn't have. Not you. Not his home.

Being in love with you, his neighbor and only friend outside of work, was one of the best and worst things that ever happened to him. To have someone who would wait for him with dinner even when you didn't know what time he'd be home, someone who would compliment him even in between dreams and manage to make him laugh, who would listen to him even when no one else would, and who would accidentally smear paint all over his clothes as a little reminder that you were real and not an impossible dream. He knew you were truly a miracle to someone as unlucky as he was.

Having you, even as a friend, was fantastic.

Sadly, what Spencer didn’t know—what neither of you could have known—was that this moment, this quiet tenderness and time sleeping in the same bed, would be the last time he would see you for what would feel like an eternity. At least for three more agonizing months.

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