#shoe hater moments

[shoechoe]

I have seen Diavolo portrayed as like this Booktok-type sexy domineering mafia boss sugar daddy more than once and every time it kills me so hard

[alsofoundinpeas]

No One's Ever Had Me (Not Like You)

Summary: After JJ's insensitive remarks toward Spencer become too much to ignore, Y/N steps in to comfort him, igniting a friendship that rapidly grows into something more. Though Y/N falls for him first, Spencer soon finds himself falling even harder, realizing no one has ever cared for him the way she does—and he's ready to return it in full.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Oral/Facesitting (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink (if you squint), masturbating (m!only), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex/PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it lovelies pls), c** swallowing (I don't know how else to put that HAHAHA), slight overstim (for both parties), slightly ooc!JJ (for the plot), one brief argument scene between the reader and JJ. Fluff and smut. Coworkers to friends to lovers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: I love a little "she fell first, he fell harder" trope, so I'm hoping you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) I am once again pleading my case that I am NOT a JJ hater!! I just saw a clip of this scene from season 3 and was inspired because I too have been in Spencer's shoes and honestly it hurts, so I wanted to change up the outcome a little bit. The title comes from Taylor Swift's "So High School" but the fic isn't necessarily based around the song if that makes sense. As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N had never been particularly fond of JJ. They worked well together, of course—professionalism came first—but there was something about JJ that rubbed her the wrong way. It felt so high school to say, but Y/N had always seen her as a bit of a "mean girl."

Y/N had joined the BAU a year after Spencer, and she’d witnessed firsthand the awkwardness when Spencer, shy and eager, had asked JJ to go to a football game with him as a date after Gideon had given him tickets. A sweet, innocent gesture, only for JJ to show up with Penelope in tow, turning the evening into a humiliating disaster for Spencer. That was just one of the many moments Y/N had found herself bristling at JJ's treatment of him. Despite JJ’s consistent indifference and occasional cruelty, Spencer’s feelings for her had never wavered. 

Until today.

Spencer sat across from JJ on the jet, eager to share his excitement about the book he was reading and its similarities with Pinocchio, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm as he rambled on. He barely noticed the lack of interest in JJ's eyes, her eyebrows raised in a near-sarcastic expression as she muttered a disinterested "Wow" in the middle of his sentence. She tossed the case file onto the table without a second glance and stood. "Interesting. Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, her smile a brittle, saccharine mask. 

Spencer froze, his words dying in his throat as she swiftly walked away. He felt a sinking sensation in his chest—an awkward mix of humiliation and disappointment. Was he that annoying? His hands trembled slightly as he glanced down at the book in his lap, the pages now feeling heavier than they had moments ago. He cleared his throat, but the discomfort lingered, thick in the air.

Y/N had been watching the whole exchange from her spot on the couch, her eyes narrowing as she watched JJ throw her head back in a loud laugh at something Morgan had said about “escaping the robot” from across the jet. That was the breaking point. Y/N's stomach twisted with frustration. She was tired—so tired—of watching JJ repeatedly gut the sweet boy simply because he had a hopeless crush on her, one that JJ clearly saw as beneath her.  

Swinging her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, Y/N stood and made her way to the seat JJ had previously been occupying, sliding into it abruptly.

Spencer’s head jerked up as she quickly filled the seat, blinking hard as confusion washed over his features. “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N… was there something you needed?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping back to the table, hoping she wouldn’t notice the wounded look in his eyes.

“I was listening to your conversation earlier and wanted to ask if you would continue. Please.”

Spencer’s mouth parted in surprise, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. She… wanted to listen to him? He swallowed, his brows furrowing slightly as he hesitated before speaking. “You... you don’t have to do that just to make me feel better, you know.”

Y/N shook her head firmly, her hands coming together on the table as she leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice steady. “I’m not asking you to continue because I feel sorry for you. I’m asking because I actually want to hear what you have to say.” Her tone was gentle yet sincere, and there was no mistaking the genuine interest in her words.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up with the moment before he finally opened his mouth, stumbling over the words to continue his excited rant from earlier. Spencer felt something shift inside him with every hum of acknowledgment, nod, and occasional question or light joke. It hit him all at once—this was how she always spoke to him: fully engaged, genuinely curious. She didn’t see him as the genius or the outcast. She saw him as... just Spencer. A person. Not a curiosity. Not a burden. Just him.

And for the rest of the flight, Y/N encouraged Spencer to spill every single thought that came to mind, entranced by the sweet boy in front of her for the entire time.

It was late when they finally landed, the team worn out and eager to get home. With quick goodbyes and Hotch’s promise of a day off tomorrow, the group trickled out of the office, one by one. When Spencer was left alone in the bullpen, he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat at his desk under the guise of needing to look for something before leaving. His thoughts kept drifting back to the interaction with Y/N on the jet. He couldn’t shake it. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

It wasn’t like they weren’t already friends—talking to her was nothing out of the ordinary. But something about their interaction today felt different. Maybe it was how quickly she’d stepped in when she saw he was hurt? Then again, the more Spencer thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t all that unusual either. He’d often felt out of place��whether it was the team’s teasing that sometimes went too far, JJ’s backhanded compliments that left him more bewildered than flattered, or the officers who looked past him because of his age or appearance.

And every time, without fail, Y/N had been there. She was always the one picking up the pieces of his bruised confidence, offering him quiet support with nothing more than a kind word or a warm smile, never asking for anything in return.

“Spencer?” 

Spencer jumped, the unexpected voice pulling him out of his thoughts. He spun around in his seat, heart racing, to find Y/N standing there, her hands raised in a placating gesture. He’d thought she’d already left with the rest of the team, but apparently, he’d been wrong.  

“Whoa, take it easy—it's just me. Are you okay?” Y/N approached slowly, her expression softening with concern as Spencer took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Uh, yeah! I-I’m fine,” Spencer stammered, wincing as his voice cracked. “I just… I thought everyone had already left.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a chuckle, flashing a sheepish grin. “I told Hotch I’d drop everything off in evidence before heading out, but I kind of took my time.” She shrugged, then glanced at him. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he thought about her question. What was he still doing here, other than overthinking a simple conversation on the jet? He cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. “I thought I left a certain book here, but... it turns out it’s actually at home.” The weak excuse was followed by a nervous laugh as Spencer fidgeted with his fingers, silently hoping she wouldn’t question him further. 

It seemed luck was on his side, as she nodded slowly—her disbelief clear, but deciding not to press. Instead, she offered a soft smile and tilted her head toward the elevator. “Well, if you're heading out now, would you like to walk with me to my car?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of hope. “I can give you a ride so you don’t have to take the metro so late.”

Spencer was momentarily surprised by the offer, but before he could overanalyze it, he found himself nodding. She’d offered him rides before, and he’d always turned her down, worried he’d be inconveniencing her or that she was just being polite. But tonight, after the grueling case, he felt too drained to talk himself out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t opposed to spending a little more time with her—just the two of them.

“Um… that would be really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Y/N waved it off with a playful grin. “It’s really no big deal, Spencer. I honestly wish you'd take me up on it more often. I worry about you on those late trains, and I live just five minutes from you. It’d be nice to have some company on the way home.” 

They continued their light conversation the entire way to the parking garage, pausing only when they got to her car. Y/N fumbled with her keys, unlocking the doors quickly before they slid inside.

The first thing Spencer noticed was the sweet fragrance of her perfume, filling the small space around them. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but now he found himself trying hard not to breathe in too deeply, captivated by the scent and wanting more of it. The smell of her shampoo blended with the fragrance, intensifying as she turned her head to back out of her parking spot. Spencer hadn’t even realized the car had started until that moment.

The next thing he noticed was the sticker on her dash reading Amor Fati. A faint smile curled at his lips as he shifted his gaze to her. He watched her silently for a moment as she focused on the road.

“Lover of fate, huh?”

“Hm?” Y/N frowned in confusion, shooting him a quick sideways glance as she stopped at a red light. It took a moment before she realized what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah. What about it, doc?” She chuckled, her voice light and teasing.

Spencer hummed, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing… But, did you know that Friedrich Nietzsche built most of his philosophy around that phrase?”

They plunged into a lively conversation, exchanging thoughts on various philosophers and their personal interpretations of the phrase. Spencer was captivated. The only other person who had ever indulged him in such “nerdy” discussions was Penelope (mostly about Doctor Who, of course). It was oddly refreshing, but at the same time, it only added fuel to the fire of his overthinking.

What was it that kept him so hopelessly fixated on JJ? She could be a good friend at times—he wouldn’t deny that—but there were moments when he felt like nothing more than a charity case. Like that kid who clings to someone at school, oblivious to the fact that they don’t actually want to talk to them. She was beautiful, of course—anyone could see that. But they didn’t share much in common, and their hobbies barely aligned. So why did he always end up seeking her out, when there were so many other people he could spend time with?

After the incident on the jet, Spencer had made a decision. He was done pouring so much energy into the blonde liaison and instead would focus on building a genuine friendship with Y/N. Not just the casual co-worker relationship they had, but something real. Maybe that’s why her sudden attention on the jet had caught him off guard. Maybe it wasn’t a crush forming, but rather a deep-rooted loneliness, a subconscious desire for a true friend. That had to be it.

The drive to his apartment seemed to fly by, and as Spencer stepped out of the car, he was surprised by the sense of reluctance that settled over him. He murmured his thanks and goodnight to Y/N, offering a shy smile, his thoughts lingering on the brief but unexpected moment of connection.

"Hey, Spencer?" Y/N called just as he was about to close the door. He paused, and she went on, her tone genuine. "I meant what I said. If you ever want to skip the metro and ride with me instead, I’d love the company. Honestly, I enjoyed our drive so much more than the usual Top 40 hits on the radio."

Spencer’s smile grew, a hesitant nod accompanying the soft bite of his lower lip. This was the opportunity to build something real with her, and for once, he decided not to second-guess it. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, a blend of relief and excitement bubbling up inside her. A smile spread across her face as she let out a soft breath. "Great. I’m looking forward to it," she said, her voice warm. "Goodnight, Spencer. Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

The first week of Spencer’s newfound behavior had Y/N feeling… disoriented, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all. She was genuinely thrilled by the extra attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what had caused the sudden shift in their dynamic.

Spencer had begun riding home with her after work, both of them quickly growing fond of the newfound companionship. Throughout the day, he found himself gravitating toward her desk more often, offering to help with paperwork or providing a second opinion when she second guessed something. As they spent more time together, their conversations became easier—what had started as awkward exchanges soon evolved into Spencer initiating talks, no longer waiting for her to take the lead.

The irritated huff that escaped JJ’s lips as she stormed past everyone and into her office after Spencer politely declined her offer to sit with her and sort through case files, made it clear—Y/N wasn’t the only one noticing the change.

The next notable shift came when the BAU was called to California for a case. As everyone filed onto the jet and took their usual seats, there was one exception: Spencer Reid. When Y/N settled onto the couch, she was greeted by a soft, uncertain voice.

“Can I join you?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously tugging at the end of his cardigan sleeves as he blinked at her with those sweet, vulnerable brown eyes.

The entire team glanced up in surprise, caught off guard by Spencer's decision not to take his usual spot across from JJ. Y/N, both puzzled and pleased, quickly moved to make space, patting the seat beside her with an encouraging smile.

"Of course, Spence. Go right ahead."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders drooping in relief as he settled into the seat next to Y/N, the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing from his body. Ignoring the gawking from the others, he leaned in slightly, feeling more at ease in her presence. As Y/N opened the case file, he glanced at her with a small smile, ready to dive into the work with her by his side.

Morgan chuckled from across the jet, looking at JJ with raised brows as she scoffed to herself. "What'd you do to piss off the kid?"

“I didn’t do anything! And when did she start calling him ‘Spence’?” JJ grumbled, her arms crossed defensively as she narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

“Whoa,” Morgan muttered, his smile dropping into a frown. “Didn’t realize I was hitting a sore spot. What’s it matter what she calls him, anyway?”

JJ stiffened, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to respond. Morgan was right—she wasn’t the only one who could give Spencer a nickname. But that was her name for him, and it stung a little more now, given the distance that had been growing between them.

"It’s nothing," JJ replied quickly, forcing a casual shrug. "I was just surprised, that’s all." But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest, unsure why it bothered her so much.

The remainder of the flight was spent with the team discussing the case, Hotch assigning tasks for when they touched down. Once they had gone over everything they could, the conversation tapered off, and silence settled over the cabin. Each team member retreated into their own thoughts, but Y/N and Spencer remained deep in discussion, quietly exchanging ideas about the unsub.

As they leaned in to continue their conversation, they unknowingly inched closer, drawn together by the ease of their shared focus. And when Spencer felt Y/N's knee brush against his, he kept his leg still, savoring the contact in silence—his secret to keep.

It took Spencer just over two months to finally gather the courage to ask Y/N to hang out outside of work or their shared car rides—something he had started contributing to so he could get more comfortable with driving. She’d quickly climbed the ranks of people he favored and felt comfortable with, but the fear of rejection still held him back. He didn’t want to jeopardize the connection they’d built, especially when it felt so important to him.

Spencer’s fear dissolved when he asked Y/N to come over and watch a film he’d picked up at an antique shop. Her excited smile and enthusiastic "Duh, I'd love to!" made him realize that she’d likely been waiting for him to take the first step all along.

He was grateful for how Y/N allowed him to move at his own pace, understanding that his accelerated path through high school and college had made it difficult for him to form connections. She never rushed him, giving him the space to open up when he was ready and letting their relationship develop naturally.

Y/N arrived at Spencer’s apartment, her arms loaded with snacks and dressed in cozy clothes, her excitement palpable. She enjoyed their car rides, of course, but an hour together hardly seemed enough compared to the time she truly longed to spend with him.

Y/N had been captivated by Spencer for years, but the more time they spent together, the harder her heart beat for him—every smile, every laugh, every conversation only added to her growing feelings. She told herself she was content with just being friends, that having him in her life, even in the smallest way, was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth—her heart yearned for something more, something that seemed just out of reach.

"Y/N! Hi, welcome in!"

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, his grin wide with excitement as he motioned for her to step inside. The sight of him—beaming with an almost childlike enthusiasm—made her smile in return. His apartment matched her expectations in the best way possible: shelves overflowing with books and quirky knick-knacks, soft, ambient light spilling from lamps that cast a cozy glow across the room, and a desk strewn with an organized mess of case files and open journals. It was a perfect reflection of Spencer—intellectually chaotic, but with an undeniable charm and warmth.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as she entered the living room, and for a moment, he lost track of everything around him. He had always seen her dressed up for work—polished, professional, a perfect image of control. But now, in her casual clothes, with her hair down and no hint of the usual makeup, she looked entirely different.

She was still stunning, but it was a softer kind of beauty, one that crept up on him and left him breathless before he even realized it. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first glance, but once he took her in, he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away. Spencer had always thought he knew Y/N, but this version of her… this version felt like a secret he wasn’t ready to discover yet.

"Where would you like these?" Y/N asked, lifting her arms up with the snacks.

The sound of her voice broke Spencer from his daze, and he quickly moved to help, grabbing a few items to set them down on the coffee table. "Oh, uh, you didn’t have to bring snacks," he stammered, his hands fumbling with the food as he awkwardly rearranged it. "I was just going to order takeout or something. You’re the guest," he added, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. His mind was racing, still caught in the subtle sweetness of her perfume that lingered in the air as he leaned in to grab the bags, making it hard to focus.

Y/N shrugged, a small grin playing on her lips as she set the snacks down. "I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And if you’re still craving takeout later, I won't stop you from ordering it. Sound good?"

He nodded, his nose twitching as he grinned, feeling his tension ease. It was just Y/N, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel this flustered.

An hour later, with the movie playing and a bag of gummy bears between them, Spencer quickly realized he'd been wrong. He had plenty of reasons to feel flustered.

The film, which had subtitles, was riddled with translation errors. Each time a jumbled sentence appeared, Y/N would lean in close, her breath warm against his ear causing shivers up and down his spine as she whispered, "What does that one mean?" Her thigh brushed against his, neither of them making any effort to break the contact. Spencer felt an almost electric warmth spread through him from the slight touch, his body aching for more. Was he really that starved for affection?

That night seemed to crack something deep inside him, like a dam giving way to a flood of longing for touch.

Spencer—who had always been wary of physical contact—now found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Every time they handed each other papers or worked on case files together, he’d make sure their fingers brushed. As he passed by her desk, he’d let his fingers trace along her shoulder blades, offering her a quiet smile that she always returned. After particularly exhausting days, he’d seek her out, leaning into her embrace, letting her arms offer him comfort and grounding. And during their hangouts, Spencer no longer hesitated to inch closer, letting his side press against hers, or allowing her to stretch her legs over his lap. The proximity felt natural, and he couldn’t help but crave it more.

It only got worse as time went on. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. It wasn't just casual touches anymore—it was almost as if every opportunity to be near her was a chance to close the distance between them. Y/N couldn't get enough of it. And the team? They definitely noticed. JJ, in particular, seemed to pick up on it right away.

JJ had attempted to confront Spencer about his growing closeness with Y/N before, but each time, he waved her off, insisting that he and Y/N had simply discovered they had more in common than he'd realized and that he just wanted to be her friend. JJ wasn’t convinced—not for a second. It was obvious to her that Spencer was falling for Y/N, and for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, it left a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn’t that she harbored romantic feelings for him, but she had grown accustomed to his attention. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed being the one to receive it.

The tension finally boiled over when the team was dispatched to a case in Oregon.

It had been six months since the incident on the jet, and Y/N and Spencer had become almost inseparable. Garcia and Morgan, delighted by their closeness, often teased them and playfully begged them to just admit they were dating—though both vehemently insisted that their relationship was purely platonic. Rossi and Emily often exchanged knowing looks on the jet, with Emily even going so far as to snap a picture of Y/N and Spencer sleeping on the couch after a case—a cute picture featuring Spencer’s head resting on Y/N’s and her face tucked into his shoulder as they peacefully dozed together. Even Hotch seemed to approve, having reviewed the Bureau’s internal fraternization policies just in case Strauss raised an issue. The only person who didn’t seem thrilled about it was JJ.

Two days in Oregon, and the team was already facing an uphill battle. They’d been working non-stop to build a profile for the unsub, but so far, nothing had gone right. There were no witnesses who could provide a description, a local officer had already compromised key evidence from the first crime scene, and the victims seemed to have no clear link to one another. Frustration was mounting for everyone, but for JJ it was mounting for an entirely separate reason.

Spencer had been managing his frustration through subtle touches with Y/N—brief brushes of his hand against her lower back as he passed, pressing his head into her shoulder with a frustrated groan after combing through their limited information for hours... But the moment that pushed JJ to her breaking point was when Spencer, noticing an officer staring at Y/N, pulled her possessively into him, his hand firmly gripping her waist until that officer left the room.

"Y/N?"

JJ's voice was tight as she stepped into the conference room the local officers had set up for the BAU to use during their case, spotting Y/N standing in front of the pinned-up map of the area as she studied the locations where the victims had been found. Spencer had just left, going to start more coffee for them since they were running low. The rest of the team was out in the field, reinvestigating the crime scenes for anything that may have been missed initially.

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing as JJ closed the door. They weren’t close on a personal level, and Y/N couldn’t think of any reason, related to the case or otherwise, for JJ to want to speak with her alone.

"...Yes?"

JJ lingered near the end of the table, her arms crossed across her chest as she leveled Y/N with a look that immediately had her on edge. "I’m not trying to pry, but as his best friend, I have to ask… what’s going on between you and Spencer?" Her face was twisted in a scowl, her head tilting as she waited for a response.

Y/N's eyebrows nearly shot up into her hairline at that, a scoffed laugh leaving her lips before she could stop it. His best friend. Was she serious?

"Excuse me?"

"What's going on with you and Spencer?" JJ repeated, her voice deliberate. "Everyone’s noticed how he’s been acting—the constant touching, for one, is a bit much, don’t you think? He never wants to hang out with me anymore. It’s like he's all about you now. So, are you two seeing each other or what?"

Y/N turned to face JJ fully, her lips tightening into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. Her audacity was astounding, truly. The last thing she wanted today was to argue with this fucking—

"That's hilarious, Jennifer. Really," Y/N chuckled lowly, shaking her head. "Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—Spencer is an adult who can make his own decisions? I’m not the reason he doesn't want to spend time with you."

JJ stiffened at the mention of her name, scoffing in response. "Oh, clearly you have something to do with it. Before you started driving him home, he followed me around like a lost puppy. Now he barely even wants to be around me!"

That struck a nerve in Y/N, like a live wire finally sparked to life. A lost puppy? Was that truly how little she thought of him? Y/N's head tilted, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone as she spoke again.

"Don't you ever talk about Spencer like that again. He's not your fucking pet, Jennifer!"

Her voice was menacing as she stepped forward, grim satisfaction coursing through her as JJ stumbled backward.

"Spencer is a brilliant, capable man who’s never deserved the way you or anyone else have made him feel less than that. We’re not dating. But if we were, I wouldn’t be ashamed of him. Unlike you, who found the idea of a man like him adoring you repulsive instead of seeing it for the gift it was. Spencer Reid is a fucking treasure, and it’s entirely your fault you never realized how lucky you were to have his attention."

Y/N's face was flushed red with anger, her chest heaving as she seethed.

"So again, I have nothing to do with him not wanting to spend time with you anymore. Maybe he finally realized that you're just not as great of a person as you pretend to be."

Rather than waiting for the teary-eyed, speechless blonde to reply, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, heading out to take an early lunch. But as she swung the door open, she was met with Spencer standing right there, and before she could react, she collided with his chest. His hands immediately flew to her waist, steadying her as she looked up sheepishly.

"Shit! I’m sorry, Spence," Y/N muttered, still fuming from her conversation with JJ. Her face turned even redder when she realized he might have heard some of it, but she didn’t regret a word of what she’d said.

He hadn't just heard some of it... He'd heard all of it. When he’d left earlier, he’d turned back, intending to ask if she wanted to take a break from the map. Instead, he had been met with the sight of JJ closing the door, and he curiously (shamefully) pressed up against it to know what was going on.

Admittedly, it stung to hear JJ talk about him like that, even though he already knew she'd taken advantage of his past crush on her. But Y/N's words and how she defended him hit him harder than expected. It became clear in that instant—no one had ever been there for him the way she always had been, and somewhere along the way, he'd fallen deeply in love with her.

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," Spencer said quietly, his hands smoothing over her waist before resting gently on her shoulders. "Go take your lunch. You’ve earned a break. I’ll keep working on the geographical profile until you return."

Y/N offered a weary but grateful smile before walking away, leaving Spencer alone to process the revelation weighing on him.

That night, Spencer paced his hotel room, caught between waiting until they were home to tell Y/N how he felt or just saying it now. He felt like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner, for convincing himself his feelings for her were purely platonic. But now that he knew, it consumed him. He wanted to shout it to the heavens, to tell the world he was in love with her.

Spencer knew what he had to do. He realized that confessing his feelings in the middle of a case wasn’t ideal, but the thought of waiting any longer to let her know how much she meant to him was unbearable. That’s why, before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself standing outside her door at midnight, knocking softly.

"Spence? You okay?"

Her sleepy voice tugged at his heart as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. She smiled faintly, gesturing for him to come in. The room was cloaked in darkness, but the moonlight spilling through the curtains illuminated the crumpled sheets, evidence of her restless sleep.

His heart hammered in his chest as he breathed in unsteadily, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed. She crawled back to the middle, flicking on the bedside lamp, the soft light casting a warm glow between them. His courage started to falter, but the gentle concern in her eyes anchored him. He remembered why he was here—because with her, he felt safe enough to face this, no matter how vulnerable he felt.

"Y/N, I—" Spencer began, his voice catching for a moment, but he continued anyway. "I heard what happened with JJ earlier, and it made me realize something I should’ve recognized a long time ago. I was so caught up in denial that it didn’t hit me until now. And I’m so sorry for that…"

Oh, fuck. He was starting to ramble. This isn't how he wanted this to go at all—

"Y/N... I'm in love with you. I am so, so in love with you that it aches. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. And it’s not just the way you look, though I could spend hours talking about how stunning you are. It’s who you are, the goodness that radiates from you. You make me want to be better, to wake up every day and try to be at least half the person you are. You care for everyone around you like it’s your purpose, and I want to be the one who takes care of you for once because you truly deserve that. I’ve never felt anything like this, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. But I just—I needed you to know."

Y/N’s jaw dropped as Spencer’s confession filled the air, her eyes welling with tears as the words she had longed for spilled from him. She moved swiftly, sitting up from the pillows and crawling toward him, a tear dripping down her cheek as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you too, Spencer Reid," she breathed, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you with everything I am."

Spencer’s lungs burned as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He returned her watery smile, his heart overflowing with love for the woman before him. Carefully, he cupped her face, his thumb following the line of her cheeks, his eyes filled with a quiet mix of wonder and adoration.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Her lips were on his the second he uttered the last syllable.

The kiss was both gentle and intense, their lips meeting with a deliberate slowness as if savoring every moment of crossing the line from friendship into something more. There was a hunger beneath the tenderness, an unspoken yearning finally being released. Their lips parted for only a second, allowing them to suck in a quick breath before they were back on each other. Each kiss was a quiet revelation, better than they had ever dreamed.

What started as an innocent declaration of their feelings for each other quickly evolved into something more ravenous as Spencer’s tongue prodded at the seam of her lips. The soft exhale Y/N released as their tongues brushed together had Spencer groaning, one of his hands sliding to cradle the back of her head as he savored the taste of her and the feeling of her lips against his. His other hand gingerly slid down her body, settling on her hip as he leaned forward, guiding her to rest against the pillows.

Y/N’s thighs parted eagerly to make room for him between them, her hands lacing through his hair as she tugged him impossibly closer. His elbows dug into the mattress beside her body as he hovered above her, swallowing the moan that slipped from her lips when their hips pressed together. He chased her lips when she tipped her head back, kissing her with an intensity that made her dizzy and had her whining into his mouth.

"I-I want— Spence, please—"

Y/N pleaded as his lips trailed down the side of her neck to suck a mark into her collarbone, though she wasn't even sure what she was begging for. She just knew she needed him. Her body felt like it was aflame, ignited by the spark that was Spencer's tongue soothing the possessive bruise now blooming across her skin. She needed him so desperately that her mind became a blur, consumed by an endless craving, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming desire for more—more of him, more of this, more of everything he offered.

The thin fabric of their pajamas did little to conceal the feeling of his stiff cock grinding against her in subtle rocks of his hips as his hands began to roam her body, only adding to the overwhelming need she felt coursing through her. Spencer hushed her with a gentle peck, his lips lingering against hers for a brief, sweet moment before he moved to kiss her nose, her cheeks, and finally her forehead. With each gentle kiss, she couldn't help but giggle softly, her laughter melting into the space between them.

"I know, pretty girl. You're already so worked up and all I've done is kiss you," he cooed, the words taking her by surprise. He wasn't wrong. A wet patch had started seeping through the cotton of her pants, something his fingers had taken an interest in as he began to lightly skim up and down her clit with his knuckles over the damp fabric. "No one ever takes care of you, do they, baby? Let me be the one to take care of you, Y/N. Please?" He paused, gently lifting her chin so he could meet her gaze.

Spencer’s words quieted the storm raging inside her, and she took a deep breath, her body finally relaxing. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such a strong desire to let go, to stop carrying the weight of everything alone. To finally surrender and let someone take care of her. So she did exactly that.

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Spencer," Y/N whispered, her eyes searching his, full of need and trust.

It was as if a switch flipped the moment Spencer got the confirmation he needed.

His lips were back on hers in an instant, devouring her as though she'd melt away if he stopped touching her for even a second. He rolled them over, breaking the kiss to glide his hands underneath the rumpled t-shirt Y/N had on for bed and lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Ignoring her soft squeal of surprise, he brought his hands down to her hips, massaging the skin there before sliding his hands under the waistband of her pajama pants to grip her ass.

"Look at you… You're nothing short of incredible. Absolutely breathtaking," Spencer murmured, staring up at her in awe. The soft brown of his eyes had faded, overtaken by the dark void of his dilated pupils, as if a veil had been drawn across them. "I can't even begin to express how lucky I am to have you... how beautiful you are."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she placed her hands beside his head for support. She shivered as her nipples brushed against the fabric of his shirt, hardened by the cool air of the hotel room and the desire she felt coursing through her. She answered with a hum and ducked her head shyly, mouthing at the sensitive skin underneath his jaw as she wriggled impatiently in his hold.

Spencer chuckled breathlessly, squeezing her ass again before retracting his hands. His fingers danced along the waistband of her pants teasingly before he began to tug them down, dragging her panties with them. His heart raced as she wiggled out of them, hammering against his chest with a rhythm that felt almost deafening. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d done to deserve someone like her, but he would spend a lifetime making sure she knew just how precious she was to him.

"It's your turn to strip," Y/N mumbled as she sat up, straddling his waist as her hands found their way under his shirt. "I feel so... exposed."

Spencer’s brows quirked in amusement, a quiet laugh slipping out before he could stop it as she shoved the shirt up and over his head. She slithered down his body, grinning up at him before placing a kiss on his hip bone. His pants soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the ground, followed shortly after by his boxers.

"There. Is that better, sweetheart?" Spencer teased, but the words went completely unheard as she gawked at him.

Y/N kneeled between his spread legs, her hands planted firmly on his thighs as she took in the sight of him. He lay before her like something straight out of her most vivid dreams, more stunning than she’d ever imagined. He was effortlessly handsome—his hair tousled, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, and freckles and scars scattered across his shoulders and chest like a map of his past. His muscles were lean and toned, and the sparse hair trailing down beneath his belly button was far more enticing than it should've been. His cock was as pretty as he was, the flushed head of his more than impressive arousal matching the pink of his cheeks.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

"C'mere. I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Spencer grinned, motioning for Y/N to crawl back over him.

Instead of letting her settle with her thighs around his hips like she had previously been, he tugged insistently, her brows furrowing in confusion as she wobbled above him.

"Spencer, what—"

"Get up here," Spencer crooned, finally managing to maneuver her forward so her pussy hovered over his mouth. "And sit down."

Y/N's jaw dropped, her hands flying out to catch herself as she gripped the headboard. She was taken aback, utterly speechless. Here she was, being manhandled by Spencer Reid. The same quiet, awkward genius who rambled endlessly about statistics and couldn’t sit still for more than a minute was man-handling her and demanding she sit on his face. Was she dreaming?

"Are you— are you sure?" Y/N squeaked, staring down at him with wide eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Spencer turned his head so he could pepper open-mouthed kisses up and down her inner thigh, coaxing a soft moan from her as his warm breath fanned across her soaked folds.

"Stop all that worrying, pretty girl. I told you I'd take care of you—let me keep my word."

Before she could protest, Spencer gripped her hips, pulling her down at the same time he tilted his head up to lap his tongue over her core. Any hesitation Y/N had left evaporated from her body as a guttural moan ripped its way from her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as Spencer dragged his tongue over her clit. His movements were languid but hungry as he reveled in the taste of her, relishing her essence as though it was the very thing he needed to fuel his existence.

The air was filled with a mixture of moans and the slick sound of Spencer's mouth working between her legs, only amplifying the intense pleasure swimming through her body. Once Spencer was sure Y/N would stay put, he let one of his hands fall away from her hips, tracing it down his body until it wrapped around his cock. The breathy sounds she was letting out had him painfully hard, his thumb spreading the bead of precum spilling from the tip down the length of him as he began to pump himself.

"Oh, fuck—" Y/N whined as she forced her eyes open, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of Spencer touching himself. The sight had her thighs trembling, a low groan rumbling in her throat as she turned her gaze down to look at him underneath her.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows pinched together in pleasure as his hand began to move faster. It was downright sinful. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Spencer alternated between fucking his tongue into her and sucking gently at her clit, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm at a speed she never thought was possible. Y/N's hips rocked against his face, frantic whimpers slipping from her lips as her face began to scrunch in pleasure. The needy moans he was letting out against her skin pushed her over the edge as a sharp gasp broke free into the air, followed by a loud cry as her hands dropped from the headboard to tangle into his hair while she came.

Spencer whimpered as he let go of himself, instead using his hands to anchor her down while he gently worked her through her climax. He pressed a small kiss to her clit before she squirmed away, falling onto the bed beside him as her chest heaved. A look of adoration lingered on his face as he stroked her side and hair, pressing his lips to her forehead while she caught her breath.

Y/N flashed a small grin, rolling her eyes at his proud expression. A comforting heaviness settled in her limbs, pulling her deeper into the bed as she released a soft sigh. It took her a few moments to push herself up on her elbow, shifting to face him instead of lying flat on her back.

"How am I ever supposed to get anything done again now that I know you can do that?" Y/N murmured with a hint of exasperation, tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against his.

Spencer’s breath hitched as she draped her leg across his waist, hissing quietly as the head of his cock brushed against her warmth. He hummed, feigning thought before shrugging with a playful grin. "Could be a reward for a job well done," he teased, brushing a lingering kiss across her lips as his hand rubbed up and down her thigh.

"Yeah?" Y/N's hips began to slowly rock back and forth, the friction from his cock pressing between her folds making her head spin. "Well, can I reward you for a job well done then?"

Spencer's fingers flexed against her thigh, a low noise escaping him as he fought to keep his eyes on hers.

It made sense to him now why sailors would plummet into icy waters at the sound of a siren's call. If that call was anything as alluring as the sound of her voice, he'd happily do the same. She could demand the most heinous things of him right now and he'd do them simply because she asked.

But tonight was about her.

So instead of caving and begging for her touch, he shook his head, his lips quirking up at the pout forming on her lips. "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, sweetheart. Not the other way around."

"Okay... so then take care of me by fucking me. Please?"

Spencer's resolve broke at her words. How could he possibly deny her? He'd be an absolute fool not to give her whatever her heart wished for.

His lips met hers in a fervent kiss as he moved to hover over her once more. Two of his fingers found her soaked pussy and sank inside of her with little resistance, a smug grin finding its way to his face as she gasped loudly into his mouth. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw before he whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Y/N bucked her hips up into his touch, writhing underneath him as she nodded frantically. There wasn't a thing in this world that she wanted more. "Yes, Spence, please. Please fuck me. I need it—"

Spencer groaned, latching his lips onto the side of her neck as he inhaled sharply through his nose before he sat back on his heels. His fingers slipped out of her, her eyes widening as he brought the digits to his mouth and sucked them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Flip over."

Y/N followed his command without hesitation, the rush of anticipation making her feel almost detached, as though she were on autopilot, waiting to see what he would do next. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder before he reached for a pillow, tucking it underneath her hips to prop her up. A low whine emitted from her chest as she felt the flushed head of his arousal bump against her entrance, her hips canting back in an attempt to get him to push forward as he leaned forward, his chest brushing her back as he planted his hands into the mattress beside her.

"Do you want it like this, sweetheart? No condom? Because I can go find one..." Spencer murmured into her ear, his breathing labored as he teased her opening.

"Please— Wanna feel you, Spence," She whined into the pillow, arching her hips into his touch, though he remained just out of reach.

Spencer's eyes squeezed shut as a pang of arousal shot through him, taking a shuddering breath to mentally prepare himself not to blow his load before he even fucked her. With a kiss to the back of her head, Spencer began to press forward, easing into her inch by inch.

Y/N's mouth gaped open against the pillow she'd tugged underneath her head in a silent moan, the sensation of him finally filling her more intense than she'd expected. Her fingers gripped the sheets as he bottomed out, a pitiful whimper slipping free as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to adjust to the feeling. Her walls clenched around him instinctively as she adjusted, causing a broken moan to fall from his lips as his head rested against her shoulder, his breath puffing across her skin in warm bursts.

His right arm kept him braced above her while his left arm made its way under her chest, pulling her close as his hand began to grope at her breasts. His fingertips pinched one of her nipples, reveling in the soft moan she let out. "Are you ready for me to move, pretty girl?" He breathed, peppering kisses along the side of her face as he waited for her to relax.

At her nod, Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow but powerful as he repeatedly drove into her. He shifted up onto his knees, pulling her hips back into his languid thrusts as she moaned beneath him. The angle allowed him to brush her G-spot with every stroke, causing her toes to curl with each pang of pleasure that wracked her body. His hands squeezed the flesh of her ass, a low whine bubbling in his throat as he took in the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

It was downright erotic, the sight of her arousal coating the wiry curls at the base of him driving him insane. She was so fucking wet for him. The knowledge that he was making her feel this good made his head spin. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He needed to show her how deeply this was affecting him, to make her understand the intensity of the way she made him feel.

Everyone knew Spencer liked to run his mouth. It wasn't a surprise that this remained true during sex. What surprised Y/N, however, was how absolutely filthy of a mouth the man had. Spencer, the same Spencer who had barely uttered a curse in all the years she'd known him, was now stringing together words that would make even the most foul-mouthed person blush.

His pace increased with each word he murmured, small "ah, ah, ah's" spilling from her lips as he began to really pound into her.

"Does that feel good? Huh? Finally being taken care of the way you deserve?"

"Fuck— look at you, baby. Taking my cock so well. Do you like that? You like feeling me stretch you open?"

"Such a perfect pussy, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. So tight. My beautiful girl."

Every vulgar word he breathed into the space between them had her mind reeling, her body teetering on the edge of release as her walls fluttered around him. Desperate moans began to spill from her as she took everything he had to offer, her teeth digging into her lower lip to try to stifle the noises in an attempt not to wake everyone on that floor of the hotel. Spencer's gaze was locked on the way her ass rippled with each thrust, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as his brows pinched together and his mouth hung open.

"S-Spence— I'm so close—" Y/N whimpered, burying her face into the pillow beneath her as she moaned helplessly.

He dragged one of his hands away from where it was squeezing her hip, shoving it between her hips and the pillow propping her up as he began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. "Let go, sweet girl. Cum around my cock. Show me how good I make you feel."

She cried out at that, thrashing underneath him as the tension coiling in her lower belly finally snapped. Spencer's hips stuttered, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat as she squeezed around him, her legs trembling as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever experienced washed over her in waves.

"God— fuck, I'm about to cum," Spencer grunted, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving with exertion as he fucked her through it. "Where do you want it, pretty girl?"

"Wanna taste you... Spence, please—" Y/N slurred beneath him, weakly pushing up on her elbows to turn and look at him over her shoulder. Her bottom lip was swollen and lightly bruised from how hard she'd been biting at it, and her eyes were watery with unshed tears as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

The sight of her looking so ruined almost had him spilling inside of her, and with a muffled curse he pulled out of her, fisting his cock as she rolled onto her back and stuck her tongue out patiently. He shuffled up her body, bracing himself with one hand against the headboard as he gazed down at her reverently. The amusement he felt from the brief feeling of deja vu from having her in a similar position earlier that night was short-lived as his head tipped back, a strained whimper filling the air as her tongue brushed against the head of his cock.

It only took a few pumps for him to cum, his eyes rolling back into his head when she sat up to take him further into her mouth as rope after rope of his essence flooded her throat. Y/N sucked gently, working him through his orgasm until his hips were jerking and he was whining, pulling off of his softening cock with a slick 'pop'. He crumpled onto the bed next to her, his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage as he struggled to catch his breath.

Spencer wrapped her tightly in his arms, his lips brushing against the top of her head with soft, repeated kisses. Between each tender touch, he murmured how incredible she made him feel, how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to share this life with her, let alone love her the way he did. Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but full of conviction, telling him how deeply she cherished him and how every part of her was filled with love for him.

Her fingers idly traced patterns across the flushed skin of his chest until he caught her hand, pressing tender kisses to her knuckles before quietly slipping out of bed. She groaned petulantly as he pulled her to her feet, ushering her towards the bathroom with a pat to her butt and a mumbled but passionate lecture on the timeframe after sex in which she needed to pee to avoid getting a UTI. Even though she knew he was right, she still rolled her eyes as she trudged into the bathroom. She decided to brush her teeth while she was there as well, giggling to herself at the thought of kissing Spencer with the taste of him still in her mouth.

When she stepped out, Spencer had changed the sheets and set a bottle of water on the nightstand, flashing a drowsy grin as she slipped into bed next to him and turned the lamp out. "What's all this about?" she teased, her smile breaking into a yawn.

"I'm taking care of you, just like I said I would."

It didn’t take long for exhaustion to settle in, both of them murmuring good nights between soft kisses. As they drifted off together, Y/N felt certain he would be taking care of her for the rest of his life—and she was just as sure that she would do the same for him.

Continued A/N's: Happy (late) start to December!! I really hope you guys enjoy this :') I plan on doing a little something (maybe, possibly ;) ) for Christmas, so stay tuned for updates on what that little something may be. Also, a loving reminder that my requests are open! :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[vyinter]

btw thallumaala would have won an oscar if anyone outside of kerala and it's neighbors knew about it btw just saying

[sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack]

Impulsivity

Modern Viktor x Fem! Reader

Your chronic pain has you at the end of your rope as you hopelessly search for something to relieve your pain. Help comes from the most unexpected of places: a walgreens at 9:45 pm.

Reader is mentioned to be an art/theater kid and is also disabled like Viktor and suffers from chronic pain. No use of y/n. Also not proofread we die like redacted

Word count: 4.6K

High key inspired by @meownotgood and @gaybybirth because reading their writing made me want to write again. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written and I'm terrified to post it. But I'm being brave! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I may make a part 2 depending on how this does. I hope you enjoy!

Pain makes it incredibly hard to think. Even though you're used to it and it's something you feel every day of your life, the burden is still quite heavy. But there is no pity for Atlas, and his shoulders will ache for the rest of time as he holds up the sky without the relief of Tylenol.

So now, you're standing in a Walgreens at 9:42 pm in the pain management aisle, shifting your weight from foot to foot to relieve the pain radiating from your hips to your ankles, trying to pick a topical pain relief gel that will actually work. You've tried most of them here; Bengay, Aspercreme, Biofreeze, Icy Hot, and nothing. Sure, they work for a few weeks but your fucking mutated joke of a body adapts and grows accustomed to whatever you use. The brace you wear on your left knee is itchy and pokes into you through your fleece-lined tights and it's not helping matters.

Giving up on reading the box of Voltaren you're holding, you crouch down to put it back and pick up something else. Your pain-addled brain is piss-poor at making decisions it seems, as the moment you bend, your knee cracks in such a way that a painful heat spreads through your entire body. It was loud too, you know it was. Eyes are staring at you, burning a hole in your head as you wince and grit your teeth against the waves of pain hell-bent on knocking you down.

You feel the urge to collapse, just sit on the floor, and read the labels and boxes there without having to stand, despite how utterly ridiculous you'd look.

"Are you alright?" Your right knee hits the floor as you shift into a kneeling position to look up at the person speaking to you. A long tweed overcoat, a thick red scarf, a cane, nice Oxford shoes, pale skin, worried amber eyes, and tousled brown hair meet your gaze. A man, a very beautiful man is standing a mere three feet from you, eyebrows pinched in concern. You blink a few times, willing yourself to remember how to act like a normal person and not a gobsmacked fool.

"Oh, yeah I uh…" You swallow and gesture wildly to the wall of products, and then visibly deflate "…no there's no way to make a joke out of this. " A laugh slips out, pitiful. You look back up at the man and the corners of his mouth are quirked up at the sides. Thank god, maybe he finds your misfortune endearing.

"They do tend to keep the best products just out of reach, don't they? Nothing at eye level ever seems to be worth your time. Just another cruel joke the health industry plays on the less abled." He looks between the wall of lotions and pills and you, his smile widening.

You smile too, less self-deprecative now and more understanding, "Ah, a fellow health industry hater, amazing. Damn straight, they bleed us dry and expect us to thank them. Greedy schmucks." With one hand on the metal shelf and the strength of your good (better?) knee, you manage to pull yourself into an upright position, even with every nerve in your body screaming at you and your left hip wanting to jump ship, leaving you alone in this sea of agony.

"Just trying to find something that doesn't stop working after a few weeks and also not develop an opioid addiction at the same time." Ah, maybe you could make a few cute jokes that this cuter man will appreciate.

"As one does." He leans both hands on his cane and nods his head conspiratorially. You giggle, you can't help it. Maybe it's the pain-induced delirium or maybe it's because you find the man in front of you incredibly attractive. But who's to say?

"Might I make a recommendation?" His accent is lilting and thick and it feels like every word out of his mouth is wrapped in a velvetine cloth. That metaphor makes no sense, your brain thinks. Shut up, chimes your heart.

"Please. I was about to start considering just chopping off my leg and being done with it." He laughs out loud at that.

"Ah, we've all been there." His attention is pulled back to the shelves and his fingers twitch as he looks for something. He's focused, insanely so, and it makes you feel important, seen. This random stranger, looking for something that will help you with such fervor.

God, it's been a while.

He bends at the waist to grab something off of the second shelf from the bottom and you definitely don't fixate on the way his long fingers curl around a box.

"This is Arnicare. The main ingredient was only legalized here a mere decade ago, it's never failed me thus far." He hands it over to you with a smile. You take it, a little awestruck and make a sincere effort to not freak out over the fact that your fingers brush his own. They're warm, good god.

"Thank you. This is invaluable insider information." You hold the box to your chest in gratitude.

"Of course. Tiger Balm is my favorite but they don't typically sell it in-store due to popular demand. I usually, unfortunately, turn to Amazon to buy it when it's in stock." he continues, putting one hand in his pocket and leaning onto his cane. You nod, making mental notes as you go.

"You are saving my life and my sanity right now. Truly." You pause, and then, with bravery that you didn't know you had-

"I'm (name)." You stick out your right hand, so that way if he chooses to take it, it won't be with the hand using his cane. He stalls for a moment and you fear you've made a horrible fool of yourself, but then he chuckles and shakes your hand gently. You can't get over how warm his hand is, skin soft save for the callouses on his palm and fingertips.

"Viktor. It is nice to meet you." His eyes crinkle as the gentle smile he wears widens.

There's a charged beat where your hands linger a moment longer than what is expected and you laugh it off before letting go. "Sorry, I uh…have been running on far less than the recommended amount of sleep and have been eating meals that do not classify as meals."

"I don't think I have ever gotten the recommended hours of sleep a day in my life."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Really?"

"Really. I think my blood is 60% espresso at this point. Such is the life of academia." He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

You look down at the product in your hands, and then back up to him, mind racing in a thousand different directions that all leave you terrified but at the same decision.

"You know, there's a really nice late-night coffee shop in this same shopping complex. Their coffee is the only coffee I confidently drink after 4 pm. Which, is arguably not healthy but, what can you do?" You blurt out, rather impulsively. He's a little shocked, it's clear on his face, but there is still a smile there.

"Are you asking me if I'd like to accompany you to grab coffee at…9:45 pm?" He tilts his head quizzically after checking his watch.

You nod a few times, "Absolutely I am. And maybe it's the fact that my hip hurts so bad and it's prohibiting me from feeling fear but…yeah. Wanna get coffee at 9:45 pm?" He's staring at you incredulously, but it's sweet and amused.

He laughs again, and it's a low, rumbling sound, "I was already planning on getting some kind of caffeine. Sure. I would love to." He's looking at you so intensely, almost like he's studying you. Self-consciousness washes over you suddenly as you realize you've sort of completely derailed whatever he'd been doing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your shopping or your night…"

He shakes his head as if it were impossible to interrupt, "Interrupt my night? My night full of no plans other than grading papers until my eyes bleed? Alone and without the company of a pretty girl? Ah yes, how dare you come between me and those plans." his tone is playful, sarcastic and the nervousness fades from you as quickly as it came. Your eyes narrow.

"Oh, so he thinks I'm pretty?" You grab your purse from off the ground and start to move backward toward the register, and he follows, adjusting his cane and bag sheepishly.

"He does."

"Good because she thinks he's pretty too." You venture quickly before your brain can catch up with your mouth. It only takes a second for him to catch up with you, strolling through the aisles of a near-desolate Walgreens.

"Lucky him."

The cashier at the counter looks as though they'll fall asleep as they bag your items: the Arnicare and a bottle of dark green nail polish. "I swear I'm not typically this impulsive." You call over your shoulder as the cashier hands you the receipt and you stuff your things into your purse. Viktor walks up and puts his items on the counter - allergy medication and a pack of multicolored pens, presumably for grading - and turns to you while fishing out his wallet.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that." He pauses, thinking over his next words, "Not that being impulsive is a bad thing. I could stand to be more impulsive." It's an apology where there doesn't need to be one.

You shrug, "No offense taken, because you're right. I was...just trying to save face."

"Why?"

"Well…" Why were you trying to save face? "I feel, maybe a professor wouldn't be so inclined to hang out with someone so uninhibited? Some people call me childish." As he takes the small bag from the cashier, you find his eyes again, and they are full of mirth.

"Firstly, not a professor. I'm a PhD student at the University not far from here. We, as TA's, usually get saddled with grading assignments and papers." He walks forward with you, letting you walk through the automated doors first, probably so you can lead the way to the coffee shop.

"Secondly, I disagree. Impulsivity does not automatically equate to childishness. Some people say impulsive, I say driven, or passionate. Spontaneity is life." You stare at him unabashedly as you walk. This man, Viktor, waxing poetic about the benefits of impulsivity on your behalf. He's smart, obviously, but not in a haughty I'm Better Than You way. It's refreshing. And while you may not be a traditional academic, you understand to some level.

The cold bites at your skin, and you regret your decision to forgo a jacket, so you shiver when you tell him, "You're incredibly good at making me feel better about myself. I bet your students love you." He laughs at that - you're noticing that you seem to be quite good at making him laugh - and shakes his head disapprovingly

Then, guilty, "Not when I'm assigning pop quizzes after returning from winter break and calling them out for using AI."

"Ok the AI thing I completely understand, but assigning a pop quiz after a break is just cold on so many levels." College wasn't that cruel to you, but there had been many a quiz that you bombed simply because you hadn't been prepared for them. One or two that immediately followed a break.

The coffee shop comes up quickly and you move to open the door, but he's faster, shifting his bag to his elbow and grabbing the door for you as he quips, "Ah, so I see you would've been one of the students who failed that quiz." He's teasing you, and it's working.

"I can neither confirm nor deny. Although don't look at my freshman year grades. They force the art kids to take two semesters of stats and…it was just a fucking torpedo into my GPA."

"Fair enough." His laugh is quickly starting to become one of your favorite sounds.

The warmth of the dimly lit shop is nice, especially after just being out in the cold. It seeps into your bones and mercifully leeches out some of the pain in your hip.

The shop is small, quaint, and its setup reminds you of a library. Secluded booths and tables with individual lamps on them, bookshelves lining the walls, and everything made out of dark wood. Viktor looks around in awe for a moment, then, "How have I never stumbled onto this place before?"

You mentally pat yourself on the back. It had been a few years ago that you'd found this place. After a bit of an insane night out cut short by a friend getting you kicked out of the bar, you frantically searched for food places open late. This place immediately popped up leading you and your friends to feast on pastries and sandwiches washed down by the most delicious coffee you'd ever had.

"I was just lucky. When you're drunk and hungry, you can find anything." You walk towards the back of the shop, picking out a booth in the corner, "Is this ok?"

Viktor nods, hanging his cane off the table and shrugging out of his jacket. There is a moment where you feel you might keel over right there, but it is through sheer power of will that you remain standing, because holy hell this man is attractive. He's wearing a three-quarter sleeve black turtleneck that clings to his body in a way that's not loose, nor is it skin-tight. You can see the barest hint of something underneath, perhaps a back brace to help with stability. Sitting down in the booth, you try to avert your eyes to no avail, as they roam over the dark brown slacks sitting high on his waist. It's a miracle you're not drooling. Staring down at the red, long sleeve sweater you'd paired with a deep brown skirt, you can't help but think we match.

He sits down slowly, and you recognize the strategy to minimize pain, then folds his hands in front of him. "So, freshman year statistics? I believe you called it a 'fucking torpedo'?"

"Of course you picked up on that."

"Well, you were rather emphatic about it." The smugness is radiating off of him in waves and it stokes the fire in your gut.

Huffing, "Not everyone can be a whiz at math and science. I mean, what are you getting your PhD in?"

It looks like he's biting back a shit eating grin, "Biomedical engineering."

"Oh fuck off."

He releases the hold over the grin he was hiding and you're blinded by it. It absolutely makes sense, in retrospect. His analytical gaze, as if taking things apart in his mind and putting them back together, even just the way he speaks, so sure and confident. Your mouth opens to say something but a waitress decides that moment is a prime opportunity to get your drink orders.

Viktor orders a Turkish coffee and you order a French vanilla iced latte with cinnamon. As the waitress leaves, he wrinkles his nose.

"You call that coffee? It is just sugar. And iced? It's freezing out."

"Oh so first you critique my grade in stats, and now you attack my coffee order? You hate me and want me dead." Your arms fold in front of your chest as you stare at him in mock challenge. His hands shift to rest on his biceps, fingers spreading over the evidently lean muscle there and you fight to keep your breathing steady.

"I retract my statement, I bare you no ill will."

"Yeah you better, me and my sugar coffee will beat the shit out of your boiled coffee grounds." Now it's his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"You mock my drink, a traditional drink from my home country? Now you hate me and want me dead."

A warmth pours over your cheeks and you feel it heat the tips of your ears, all the way down to your shoulders. Something flashes in his gaze that tells you he definitely noticed.

"Touche." It's only a minute more before the waitress returns with your orders, said minute filled with meaningful glances and sitting adjustments on your part, your hip still aches slightly, but it's easier to ignore at this point.

You're mid sip when he fixes you with a stare, hands wrapped around his own drink, and asks, "So I can rule out anything to do with statistics, but what do you do, miss (name)? I believe you referred to yourself as an 'art kid'?"

Ah, the tricky part of explaining what you do to an academic. Not to say you weren't an academic yourself, just…a very different flavor of it.

"Yeah. In college I dual majored in Psychology and Theatre Arts. So I feel like I play both sides of the field, despite how many of the other scientists refuse to recognize psychology as a science." You spit the word as if it were a dagger, still holding a vendetta against your 11th-grade physics teacher who called it a pseudo-science.

"But my real love is Theatre. Whether it be Musicals or Shakespeare, it's my passion. I dialect coach on the side to make extra money, but mostly I love performing." There it was, out in the open. Would he call you foolish? Tell you to get a real career? Get up and leave? Probably not, but anxiety can lead you to places you wouldn't dare venture with a gun.

Pensive, he sits, staring at you with renewed interest, "Your impulsivity must suit you well in that career path, always having to think on ones feet and remain immersed in the moment." You instantly smile again.

"Exactly! There have been so many times when people have forgotten their lines and I've had to come up with something on the fly. It's…exhilarating." There's a certain sparkle that lights up your face whenever you talk about theatre, it's your passion, you can't help it. You only hope it translates.

"I know it must seem silly, pursuing the arts. Hell you're probably going to go on to change the world in a field like 'biomedical engineering'." You muse, leaning your cheek into your hand as you meet his eyes. It flatters him, you can tell, as he shifts in his seat, puffing his chest out slightly in pride.

"While I thank you for your vote of enthusiasm, I do not find it silly to pursue the arts at all."

"You don't?"

"No. I find it inspiring that you are pursuing your dream. I am pursuing mine. We should all chase after what we want." His eyes are thoughtful, kind, and you want to swim in them forever.

A beat, then, "A lot of people have called me stupid. But I can't see myself doing anything else. I know it's cheesy to say, but it feels fated. Like, I'm supposed to be doing this. It's what my atoms traveled billions of years to do." Staring into your cup, you're hit with the intensity of this confession. It's not something you tell to most people.

"And…" he clears his throat, "I think it is the most admirable thing one can do, to follow what you believe your destiny to be." Good god you like this man, you like Viktor. Not just as an infatuation or a crush, you want to get to know him.

"Thank you, Viktor." Another sip of your drink and the sugar spurs you onward, "Do you happen to like theatre? I'm sure an English lit class somewhere forced you to read at least one Shakespeare play. They did always seem to make the STEM kids suffer through classic literature as some sort of revenge for putting us art kids through math." His gaze fixes you to your spot and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to pull away from it. It's hypnotizing and has you pinned with the sheer force of it. You were learning that above all else, Viktor had a quiet intensity to him.

"I have read my fair share of Shakespeare as well as a few greek plays, but I admit, I read them mostly from an analytical standpoint, and not for mere enjoyment or to marvel in the artistry. My favorite would probably have to be Macbeth, though." He takes another sip of his coffee that still has steam curling off the top of it.

You nod approvingly, "A splendid choice. Your aesthetic certainly fits the more tragic, macabre, dramatic plays. Though I could see you enjoying Much Ado About Nothing."

"I…thank you?" Eyebrows pinched in confusion, he laughs.

"No, no it's a compliment! You just have a very…dark acedmia, gothic vibe to you. it…it tracks."

He leans back in his seat, "Gothic?"

"Yeah. it's incredibly attractive don't worry."

…

Wait-

"Incredibly attractive you say?" And he's sipping on his coffee again, watching as that all too familiar flush spreads over your skin again. Damn your mouth.

"You…I…hell-" You sip your coffee in an effort to keep yourself quiet. He's making you bolder, making you feel comfortable, loosening your tongue, beckoning you into the sea like a siren and you're not sure if you'll be able to tread water.

"Hey," his voice is soft, coaxing, "for what it is worth, I too find you incredibly attractive. I'm sorry, I did not mean to make you so flustered." The sincerity in his voice has you reeling. Placing your coffee down, you rubs at your cheeks with your hands.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe you're that sorry when you seem so pleased with yourself watching me flush." You accuse, somewhat parroting what he said about you denying your impulsivity. Now it's his turn to flush, his pale cheeks turning rosey at having being caught.

A comfortable silence washes over the both of you momentarily as you sit with the confessions that have just been made. Well…it's nice to know that the attraction is mutual. Both of your coffee's were near finished by this point, and there was a part of you that regretted how fast you drank it.

"How is your leg?" He breaks the silence after the waitress returns to take away your empty glasses. You roll your hips slightly, testing the tension and how far the pain radiates.

"Mm, better. Could be worse, it's starting to ebb finally, but I'm still planning on slathering that Arnicare you recommended all over my leg and laying in my bed until the pain finally goes away." You conclude, hoping to God that the Arnicare works as well as he's hyping it up. "Maybe go crazy and light a lavender candle."

He's digging something out of his bag as he responds, "I'm glad it is feeling slightly better. I fully endorse the Arnicare, it has helped me immensely over the years and I trust it will help you too." The waitress returns to drop off the check and it's too late that you realize Viktor had been looking for his wallet as he places money in the little booklet and hands it back to her with a soft, "Keep the change."

You stare at him in mock offense.

"What?"

"Don't what me, you didn't even let me attempt-"

"There was no universe in which I was going to let you pay, so why even entertain it?"

"Let me pay? You are evil." But you're smiling as you slide out of the booth.

"Maybe so." Is all he says as he stands up, readjusting his shirt and grabbing for his coat. Checking your watch, you realize it's 10:45 and you've spent nearly an hour with this man, and yet it feels as though it's only been minutes. Bidding goodnight to the workers, you bothexit the shop and are hit with a blast of cold air.

"Why are you…you did not bring a jacket?" Viktor stares at you as if you've grown another head. "Are you…it is below freezing out!"

You pause, and breathe in the crisp cold air, "I like the cold, it's not so bad, I promise I'm ok." But he's already moving to grab the scarf from around his neck and balance his cane on his arm.

"Viktor-"

"Shush." Your mouth shuts and you let him wind the red scarf around your neck. It smells like him, woody and warm and you know you'll be breathing it in later.

"Bláznivá žena." He murmurs in what you can only assume is his mother tongue.

"Well, that didn't sound very nice." You chide. His hands still as he finishes securing the scarf. Whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he stares down at you. Despite the freezing air swirling around you, everything suddenly feels warm. And you know how cliche it sounds, but truly, it feels as though the world melts away and you are stuck in this little circle of warmth.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, "Can I-"

"Absolutely." You answer far too quickly. He laughs again, and its lighter than the others, as if a weight has been taken off of his chest and the laugh had been filled with air, just waiting to escape.

He wastes no time in bringing his hands up to your wind bitten cheeks and pulling your lips to his. They're slightly chapped, but warm and sure and soft as he kisses you. Your breath is gone and you realize every cheesy thing you've ever read about kisses is true. It is all encompassing and earth-shattering. If you knew anything about physics you would say that it feels like atoms colliding.

Seconds, minutes, hours, you don't know how long it is before you finally detach. You leave your eyes closed for a few seconds more, basking in the feeling.

"Wow." It's barely a whisper when you finally speak, opening your eyes to find him staring down at you, smiling unabashedly.

"My thoughts, exactly." His hands slips down your shoulders before one of them finds your hand, the other taking his cane as he leads you back to the parking lot. It's nice, just walking hand in hand with him to your cars.

"This is me." You murmur sadly as you come upon your car, parked in the handicapped parking spot. He stops and looks at you in disbelief, and you furrow your brows in confusion. His hand detaches from yours, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his car keys, clicking the unlock button. The car parked directly next to your beeps and unlocks. You'd parked right next to one another and you absolutely lose it, doubling over in laughter.

"Oh my god that is crazy."

"Well, given the fact that we both have handicapped stickers-"

"Nope, shush, let me have this." You turn back to him after catching your breath and hold out your hand, "Let me see your phone."

He obliges, even unlocking it for you before dropping it into your waiting hand. With half numb fingers, you input your phone number and contact info before returning it to him.

"To let you know how well your recommendation works." You smile as you head toward your drivers side door, unlocking it and sliding into the seat so quickly, you leave Viktor stunned. He shakes his head in mock annoyance and walks over to your window, tapping on it until you roll it down.

"Yes?" But he's leaning in and kissing you again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs. When he pulls away, you're left just as stunned as he was.

"Nothing, just wanted to say Goodnight." He walks off, gets into his own car, right next to you, and drives off, all while you're sitting in your car, window still down, and processing what just happened as the cold blasts you.

Wordlessly, you roll up your window and smile uncontrollably.

For the first time in your life, you are thankful for your chronic pain.

[fictionalwh0ree]

May i please request Billie x super girly/soft reader? They were friends for years and recently started dating and everyone has always questioned their relationship since they're polar opposites? Tysm!

pink bows- billie eilish

summary: you and billie are completely different, but thats what makes you great. unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way. when some of the hate gets too much, billie knows how to comfort you. word count: 1.4k warnings: none

billie eilish was indubitably the most gorgeous girl you’d ever seen. with the perfect balance of masculine and feminine energy, the perfect balance of cocky and humble, it was hard not to fall for her. you’d known since the moment the two of you became friends that you liked her in a more than just friends way. nothing had happened between the two of you until a couple months back, and when she publicly came out, she also revealed your relationship to the world.

people had known about your friendship, her posting you frequently on her story. people always replied, saying you guys were goals, your contrast being perfect. see, while billie opted for baggy clothes and a hat, you always leaned towards a tank top and a mini skirt, or a nice dress. you always stood out by her side, especially when you wore pink, which was usually. whether it was a pink purse or some detailing on your clothes, you always had it on. you loved the support you got from her fans. they were a light amongst all the hate you received as well.

so, when billie posted a photo of you two kissing, and then when she took you to the grammy’s as her date, you expected more support than what you’d got. besides the blatant homophobia, your dissimilarity had gone from something that made you “goals” to something that got in the way of dating. you received many messages saying things like “what do they even have to talk abt?” or “they literally have nothing in common, this has to be pr.”

you focused your energy on ignoring the comments, taking moments to appreciate the supportive fans who seemed overjoyed with the announcement. when the hate seemed to slow down, billie posted you again. this time, the two of you were matching, both of you in pink tshirts. billie’s shirt was baggy and paired well with her jeans, while yours was a tighter fitting tank paired with a jean skirt. despite all the positivity, new hate comments were coming in. people accused you of trying to turn her into you, saying you were taking away from her style. this was only on one end of the scale, your dms had become flooded with death threats too.

it started to become a lot. you started to pull away from billie a little, taking a little longer to answer her messages, making excuses to not see her, avoiding being in any photos she took. you couldn’t avoid her forever, though. billie wasn’t stupid. being new to the relationship meant you were both afraid to have serious discussions, worried about how it would turn out. on your side, you were scared that billie would think you were stupid or weak for letting the haters get to you. on her side, she was scared to ask what was wrong, worried that you’d either fallen out of love with her or that she’d push you too far.

the last straw was when you finally made plans with her to go get food. she stopped in your driveway, knowing you were probably strapping your heels or running back for your keys that were adorned with a pink bow, and pulled out her phone. she didn’t even realize when you’d walked out of the house until you pulled open the car door. she looked up at you, smiling, until she took in your outfit. you were in simple jeans with a black long sleeve, basic shoes, your hair down, and no makeup. there wasn’t a hint of pink, or girliness, in your outfit. her smile faltered and she tilted her head to the side in confusion. you planted a kiss on her lips in greeting.

“hey,” you said.

“hi,” she said back, uncertainty still evident.

“whats wrong?” you asked, knowing full well what was up.

she started the car, beginning the drive before she spoke again.

“uhm, nothing,” she said, “its just… i’ve never seen you in an outfit like this.”

“do you not like it?” you asked, worried, “i-i just wasn’t feeling the pink.”

“no no, you look great baby,” billie objected, “but, you weren’t feeling the pink? i never thought i’d hear that from you.”

“does it matter?” you snapped, “we’re just going to get food. sorry i don’t wanna put on a dress and heels.”

you crossed your arms, looking out the window. you heard billie sigh and if you would’ve been looking, you would’ve seen the way she bit her lip in thought and glanced over at you, plotting her next words.

“y/n whats been up with you recently?” billie asked nervously.

“what do you mean?” you said.

“well, i don’t know, you just haven’t been yourself recently,” she took a breath, considering whether or not she’d say what had been on her mind.

“do you- do you not like me anymore or something?” she said, eyes flicking between you and the road.

“no, no, billie, thats not it. i promise,” you said, turning to face her while grabbing her hand off the console.

“okay,” she said, smiling a little out of relief, “then what is it? and don’t say nothing.”

“honestly,” you breathed out, “i was just trying to fit in with you more.”

“fit in with me more?” she asked, confused.

“i don’t know, it feels kind of stupid to say,” you confessed honestly.

“it’s not stupid, baby, i promise. just tell me,” she comforted, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“well, ever since we went public, i’ve been getting all these comments and dms about how i’m taking away from your style when we match, and how we don’t match, and how we look like a pr stunt because i dress in pink and girly and you don’t,” you said, looking down.

“i guess i just got tired of it. i want people to see us and know we’re together, for real,” you muttered.

“y/n,” billie said, squeezing your hand, “how could you call that stupid?”

“i just shouldn’t have let the hate get to me,” you said.

“its not your fault,” she said, finally arriving at the restaurant drive through.

you sat still for a moment as she ordered the food and picked it up. she parked in the parking lot, finally looking over to you for more than a second.

“y/n, i like your style. i don’t want you to change, for me or for anyone else. part of what makes us work is that we’re different. i know its annoying having people think it isn’t real, but we know the truth, that’s what matters,” she said, taking your hand in hers and placing a kiss on the back again.

you looked at her, biting your lip shyly. you smiled slightly, trying to fight it a little, but it was hard. your cheeks were burning as you looked at her.

“there’s that pretty smile,” she cooed, smiling back at you.

“i love you,” you said.

“i love you more,” she replied, leaning over the console to kiss you on the lips.

she snagged your house keys from the cup holders in the middle, untying the pink ribbon that adorned it.

“give me your hand,” she spoke.

you offered it to her and she gently picked up your left hand, carefully tying a bow on your ring finger, making you blush harder. you quickly rooted through your own bag, finding and untying the pink bow that was on your car keys.

“give me yours,” you said.

she gave it to you, and you tied the ribbon on her ring finger, just as she had done to you, before leaning over to kiss her lips briefly. you pulled away, holding her hand and admiring the two pink bows, knowing one day those bows would become rings.

“lets go,” you said.

she pulled out of the parking lot and as she drove, you snagged a picture of your hands, one that was sure to become a wallpaper, a constant reminder of your love and how it transcends what anyone thinks.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Moments Posts - MC

Random posts on the TL from MC ... I love how even in the game all the boys comment on MCs posts

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by_thedrzayne, seagod_raf_, lumiere.who and 130k others

misshuntermc: bad bitch with a baddie friend

tagged: liiisa_

comments

liiisa_: with a baddie friend

↳ talkthat_tara: I love seeing two bad bitches ↳ misshuntermc: two bad bitches ↳ liiisa_: two bad bitches be friends

_thedrzayne: Pretty girl 🩵

skye.109: Gorgeous 😮‍💨

↳ liiisa_: me? ↳ skye.109: No ↳ liiisa_: 🥲

seagod_raf_: why are you so fine wtf 🫠🫠

lumiere.who: Good lord 😍

nene.nero: mc got these boys BARKIN in her comment section 🥴

↳ thing1_luke: riiiigght ↳ talkthat_tara: must be nice

thing2_kieran: a bad bitch that's wearing my gloves WHO SAID THAT??? 🫨

↳ misshuntermc: that block button looking real good now 😌 ↳ thing2_kieran: I was just playing 🥺

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by skye.109, _thedrzayne, seagod_raf_ and 101k others

misshuntermc: Look at Tara looking tf GOODT

tagged: talkthat_tara

comments

seagod_raf_: no lie im only looking at you 👀

↳ thomasthomas_: this aint about mc ↳ seagod_raf_: its always about mc 😡

lumiere.who: I can't take my eyes off you

skye.109: im looking at you looking tf goodt

_thedrzayne: I see no one else but you mc

liiisa_: Tara babes you look stunning honey 🤤

↳ talkthat_tara: thank you Lisa I love you 😘 ↳ misshuntermc: ignore the boys you stole the show babes

yvannamama: girl where was my invite? 🧐

↳ misshuntermc: I invited you and you said you had to work ↳ yvannamama: damn this job

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by talkthat_tara, nene.nero, imjenna and 127k others

misshuntermc: We got Jenna to come out somebody pinch me

tagged: talkthat_tara, liiisa_, imjenna

comments

imjenna: you girls know how to have fun

↳ liiisa_: same time next week? ↳ imjenna: absolutely not ↳ talkthat_tara: well we tried

lumiere.who: so this is what you four were up to while the rest of us worked overtime?

↳ talkthat_tara: you sound like a hater ↳ liiisa_: look man I'm just a girl ↳ misshuntermc: I don't make the rules here 🤷🏾‍♀️

nene.nero: I had an extra 3 hours of paperwork because of this

↳ imjenna: are you complaining? ↳ nene.nero: n no ma'am ↳ misshuntermc: she got you stuttering in the replies ☠️☠️

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by skye.109, gray_sun, yvannamama and 115k others

misshuntermc: Staying out until 4am as if we don't have an 8am job to get to

tagged: talkthat_tara, liiisa_

comments

imjenna: this explains why you were late

↳ misshuntermc: it won't happen again it was Neros fault

nene.nero: now why am I in it??? 🤨

↳ talkthat_tara: you decided to question us for 30 minutes when we walked in the door ↳ nene.nero: it was work related ↳ misshuntermc: should've let us clock in first

skye.109: lmk when you're ready to quit working so you don't have to worry about that anymore

↳ _thedrzayne: don't worry I got her ↳ seagod_raf_: relax boys she's with me I'll take care of her ↳ lumiere.who: if anyone is taking care of her its gonna be me

thing2_kieran: uh oh the girls are fighting^^

↳ thing1_luke: Boss will win ↳ thomasthomas_: idk Rafayel is crazy I'd bet money on him ↳ whosjeremiah: Xavier punched me in the mouth for mispronouncing mc's name once ↳ gray_sun: he'll never admit it but Zayne shoulder checked tf out of me so he could speak to mc first

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by talkthat_tara, nene.nero, imjenna and 135k others

misshuntermc: Picture was perfect and this bitch fell on me 🙄

tagged: liiisa_

comments

liiisa_: bitch I told you to hold me up while I fixed my shoe

↳ misshuntermc: you barely gave me a second to ready myself ↳ nene.nero: I would've let her fall ↳ talkthat_tara: stop hating we invited you out and you declined

thing1_luke: HAHAHAHAHAHA loser

↳ misshuntermc: this is why Kieran is my favorite ↳ thing1_luke: stop don't say that 🥺 ↳ thing2_kieran: i will gladly hold the crown of being the favorite 😋 ↳ skye.109: can you not pit these 2 against each other they're getting on my nerves

[Direct message to Sylus]

misshuntermc: you're my favorite 😘 skye.109: Hell yea 😌

[undertheorangetree]

After Party

Summary- Art and Tashi don’t like to share their toys

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Threesome. Voyeurism. Cunnilingus. Fingering. P in V sex. Scissoring. Getting pinned down? Kinda degradation? Praise kink. Patrick haters one and all (sorry king).

Author’s Note- Everyone’s probably moved on but not me baby. There’s something about threesome fics that pull a demon out of me idk what it is. This is filthy/dirty/insane/etc plz enjoy and find the full fic on ao3 link below

This is something she doesn’t think she will ever get used to.

The galas. The fundraising dinners. Being so entirely immersed in the world of celebrity. It had been what she signed up for when she applied as the Donaldson’s personal assistant, but she hadn’t been anticipating quite this much of a culture shock. It’s gotten easier over the past few months, when her assistant position had changed into something more. When her feelings for both Art and Tashi had developed into something more romantic and they had reciprocated. Or rather, been the first to act. Now, galas for their foundation seemed much easier, when Tashi asks to steal her away for a few minutes to kiss in the bathroom or Art lets his hand dip a little too low on her waist when asking her a question.

Perhaps they should be more discrete, but discretion is often far from her mind whenever she is with them. Especially when she is with them.

Though she tries to keep her head about her now as she stands by Tashi’s side, only half listening while Tashi smiles and charms a handful of investors into doubling their donations. Tashi laughs at one of the men’s poor excuse for a joke, only enough to seem polite, before turning back to her.

“Would you get me another gin and tonic?” Tashi asks, voice likely sweeter than it should be.

She smiles, already collecting Tashi’s empty glass to bring back to the bar. “Of course. Excuse me.”

Tashi’s fingers graze her own for a moment as she relinquishes the glass, half a caress, before she is turning back to the investors. Faintly, she can hear her as she explains the benefits of the foundation- how their donations would help them to reach even more disadvantaged children and wouldn’t they like to be responsible for bettering a life?- but her voice grows faint the closer she gets to the bar.

It’s busier than she had expected it to be, easily over a hundred people dressed in their finery jammed together into this hotel ballroom, and at least a dozen of them are all crowded around the bar. She waits patiently, depositing Tashi’s glass as she leans forward, balancing some weight onto her elbows in the hope of relieving her poor feet. She can feel a blister forming on her pinky toe, where the strap of her new shoe rubs incessantly, and wiggles her toes in the vain hope of shifting it. She would never complain, not when Tashi had spent a small fortune on them for her, and especially not when she knows that should she tough it out now and voice her complaints back in the hotel room, Art will surely make it up to her.

The bartender finally manages to make her way to her, a friendly yet frazzled smile on her face as she asks for the order, She gives it quickly and though the bartender turns to prepare it, an unfamiliar voice manages to stop her.

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

She looks over her shoulder to find a man standing behind her, smiling in a way she is sure he believes to be charming. She ignores it in favour of sending the bartender an apologetic smile of her own, trying to convey that she is not the cause of this sudden increase in workload, but the bartender only nods before heading off, giving the man the opportunity to join her at the bar.

He doesn’t exactly look as though he belongs here. Though he is dressed well enough, he’s unshaven, his dark hair tousled in a way that just looks messy. He smells like cigarettes and too much cologne, as if he’s trying to hide the smell like a middle schooler. It’s almost as if he had seen the party from the street and decided to join in, though the way he holds himself assures her that he is in no way insecure about that. He radiates a confidence that she could only dream of, one that seems to border on arrogance as he watches her, as if she is a promise rather than a conquest.

Though she keeps her eyes forward, staring at the rows upon rows of alcohol bottles, all glittering in the dim lighting, he does not mimic her for long. Soon, his eyes find her again, watching her with a half smile until the bartender returns with their drinks. She thanks her before making to leave, but the man seizes the opportunity before she can.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking alone?”

She stops, turning back and teetering on her heels as she smiles politely. “I’m not, it’s for my boss.”

“You mean I didn’t even manage to learn your drink order?” He pretends to be wounded, placing a hand over his heart. “I was hoping you and I could get to know each other.”

“I wish we could but this is just a work event for me, I’m afraid.” Another smile, this one more genuine as she switches the glass from one hand to the other, the condensation freezing her fingers. “I don’t get to have any fun until it’s over.”

That seems to pique his interest, elbow resting on the bar as he leans toward her, eyes raking over her before lazily meeting her eye again. “Oh? What kind of fun?”

Read the rest here

[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ____ took an interest in you… pt. 2!

(pt. 1 with ghost, keegan, and graves <3)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you…

👻 eye. contact. the moment you step into a room that he’s in, his intense gaze lands right on you! this man doesn’t want to lose sight of you for a second. the worst part is he knows how flustered you get when he stares, intently listening to you talk and giving you his unwavering attention <3 (he could give you all kinds of attention if you let him 🤭) your face’ll flush when he locks those pretty brown eyes of his with yours, and he can’t help but chuckle a little. “somethin’ wrong, soldier?”

👻 sometimes he likes to be nearby while you’re getting ready for the day- and ofc you let him! his presence isn’t invasive though; he simply lingers in your room while making mindless chat, occasionally glancing at you in the mirror if you’re drying your hair or putting on makeup (if you wear any). need help with your jewelry? he’s happy to clasp your necklace together. need help taking anything off? he’s even happier to assist with that <33

👻 he overheard you one day when you telling a new recruit about how you much you liked tattoos, and when you see him the next day he’s conveniently got his sleeves all rolled up!! he’s totally inked, and they honestly look so deliciously good on those muscular arms of his. he’d gladly give you a tattoo tour… you just might find the rest in some more secretive places ;)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that keegan took an interest in you…

🎆 he makes faces at you when people say things he doesn’t agree with like you’re the camera in The Office. you get the brunt of his eye rolls, furrowed brows, and pursed lips when others annoy him- it’s his snarky way of bonding with you :)) haters that hate together stay together!!

🎆 he casually saves you a seat beside him wherever the ghosts are at whether it’s the debriefing room, the jeep, the heli, or even at the bar during free time. he’ll place something random in the chair like his jacket, his beanie, etc., and then conveniently pick it up when you walk in :’) he likes having you beside him, though he could probably think some of other seats reserved especially for you- who said that omg…

🎆 you two were walking together when he looked down and noticed that your shoe was untied. he could’ve just told you, sure, but it’s in his nature to help others, so he knelt down onto one knee and tied it for you <3 so gentlemanly! if that didn’t make you swoon enough, then the two pats he gave to the top of your foot definitely did :’) he’d get on his knees for you anytime…

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that graves took an interest in you…

🇺🇸 sometimes he picks the bumpiest, most uneven walking paths during operations so you have to hold onto him for support because he’s silly like that!! one time you were both traveling over some pretty rocky terrain, and you had to grab for his arm to steady yourself- all while feeling your face flush bright red. he simply looked over at you with that cocky grin of his, flexing the muscles that were under your touch. “fallin’ for me already, soldier?” (another corny line he uses when he inevitably does it again: “looks like i swept ya off your feet, huh?”)

🇺🇸 he suddenly becomes a standup comedian whenever you’re around, joking and laughing with all the shadows like it’s open mic night. yes, he wants your full attention- and what about it?! when he finally makes you laugh, he can’t help but get a little smug about it; he loves the sound, and he’d really like to elicit some other kinds of noises from you later ;)

🇺🇸 he’s quick to compliment you when you do something right! it starts out all jovial and good-natured, he’ll say things during operations like “lookin’ good out there, soldier,” and “that’s what i’m talkin’ about!” with that subtle drawl of his… then it becomes a liiiittle more purposeful, and he starts to murmur things for only you to hear like “doin’ so great for me, darlin’,” and “knew ya could handle it, sweetheart.” he’s pretty big on praise with you…do with that information what you will! <33

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

Izzy IS about community. He’s ALWAYS BEEN about community in his own messed up way. The Canyon was right and the haters were wrong.

He wanted Blackbeard back because that was what kept the crew safe. He was terrible about it and hurt the man he obviously loves in the process, but it WAS for the greater good. It wasn’t a purely selfish act the antis love to frame it as. He wanted to feel safe again and he wanted the crew to be safe as well.

Hell, he was doing his best to help Edward through his post-breakup depression. He didn’t understand what was going on and was clearly distressed by it but he provided what Ed needed. He *knew* he lacked the emotional capacity to help his captain himself so he agreed to bring him Lucius. I really think he would have just gritted his teeth and suffered through it if Ed didn’t say the one thing that could collapse his whole world.

"Why do we even bother being pirates?" That was what freaked Izzy out so much that he pushed Edward to violence. Not because he selfishly wanted Ed to be close at all times but because Blackbeard the legend was the pillar of his community. That legend kept everyone safe and even if Izzy is a horrible asshole, he *does* care about his crew. He knows the world is a horrible hostile place and he focuses on risk mitigation, even if it means hurting the one person he really cares about.

He really tried to provide that to the crew when Edward and Stede took the Act of Grace. It was a terribly misguided attempt at keeping things under control and it was certainly influenced by his submissive tendencies which make him crave structure and feel safe within hierarchies. He *knows* he lacks Ed's charisma and ability to think outside the box and with such huge shoes to fill it's not really surprising he acted out in anger and in result failed miserably. But he was *NEVER* an asshole just for the sake of it.

Now he realizes those days are gone for good. He's already done everything he could to bring Ed back to his senses, including using *Stede fuckin' Bonnet’s* name. It didn’t work. The realization that his one true safeguard is really gone must be terrible, but it also pushes him to take action.

The moment he realizes the crew are in real danger, he takes things into his own hands. He not only goes against the hierarchy he believed to be sacred but also against the man he *LOVES*. He fucking shoots his beloved captain to save the crew. You don’t get much more *community* than that.

He is clearly struggling. He's just tried to fucking kill himself after being maimed AND told he was disposable by a man whom he's apparently served for dacades. He will have to reevaluate his whole life and he *knows* it. But he puts it all to the side and he does what needs to be done. He took all of Edward’s abuse without complaint it seems but the moment the crew are in real danger, he intervenes. You can’t tell me a community (*any* community) doesn’t need people like that.

It all feels very old-time queer to me. The willingness to make terrible sacrifices to protect one's space. The decision (conscious or not) to be effective rather than liked. The choice to stay alive despite terrible heartbreak and go on fighting.

He's absolutely NOT an irredimable villain. He’s an asshole who tries to keep his little world safe. He’s Larry Kramer getting kicked out of GMHC for being too confrontational and politically incorrect to be palatable to the general public.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Draco malfoy headcannons

flavor: fluffy and smutish but they're separated so you won't get jump scared

Also I'm returning to my roots with this stinky mf okay I have writers block

Sfw

Liked you in the hallway crush type of way yk like when there’s that one person in the halls that you're like “god damn, anyways where’s my next class”

Never even tried to speak to you was just like ” I'll gaze from afar”

The only problem is that he has major resting bitch face so you were sat there racking your brain over what you could’ve possibly done to this random daddy’s money kid (like this isn't set in a private school but LOOK OVER THERE)

Confessed by just standing in front of you and 👁👁 before handing you an outdated birthday card with a 100 dollar bill inside with a note inside that was basically just him like “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLE-“

You did give him a shot and he did actually speak words to you

bitchest bitch ever yall bicker (lovingly of course) 24/7

“did you for real just copy off of me?” “Okay well at least I don’t have daddy issues” “You cannot be talking and you know it”

He gives stick bug vibes yk

does not comprehend normal human life you could be complaining about doing laundry and he is like “Just have one of the elves do it?” and you are like “😶right so-“

just assume you have the answer to everything bc like you’re his partner? tf?

“how far away is Saturn in kilometers?” “They don't measure distance with kilometers, Draco, you dumbass. It’s called lightyears.” ‘right so in lightyears then?” “How tf am I supposed to know?”

he’ll hear a crash and look to you like you know what’s going on and you’ll turn his head back

I'm not one to assume someone’s sexuality but it's very much bisexual for the both of you (he likes guys and you know it)

a hot guy will pass and you both turn to each other like {insert Bratz meme here}

has created mustard gas on accident

laughs at his own jokes unironically (he is the only one laughing)

will try to be relatable and it's just like “yk that moment when your Prada shoes get gourmet chocolate on them”

makes up new names for your stuffed animals bc he thinks all the ones you picked were “lame”

his beauty sleep comes above everything else

Once Theo woke him up (there was a fire they had to evacuate) and the next night you found him hovering a pillow over Theo’s face you tackled him to the ground

Only knows how to play dominoes no card games or anything only dominoes

Bought you guys matching sleep masks

And embroidered PJs

And bunny slippers

PDA hater

He’ll sit next to you at max when you're around lots of people when you're just around his friends he's down with hugs and hand-holding holding maybe a cheek kiss but that's it

Alone is a different story he's attached to you he's actively trying to crawl under your skin as we speak

Terrified of bugs he's standing on a chair and screaming the second he sees one

Pays you in kisses when you take the bug outside (after you wash your hands)

Prefers baths over showers

Hates dogs and growls at them more than they growl at him

Only likes cats in theory bc they leave hair on his clothes

He's a reptile man

has owned a bearded dragon and will own more

Cold mf you wanna look me in the eye and tell me he has good circulation

Presses his cold ass feet against you while you're on the brink of sleep so confused when you swing your hand back to smack him

“I'm just cuddling you?”

“Cuddle somebody else fucking ice cube bitch ass”

Every single night

He sleeps on his back with his hands on his stomach like he's going to get lowered into his casket it's embarrassing

Thinks he knows how to shake ass and then when he tries (and fails) he considers never speaking to anyone ever again

Has gotten flirted with while he was with you and he just stared at them blankly bc he couldn't tell if it was happening

And then he left the room entirely

Walks in on people butt ass naked bc he has not learned how to knock (only child syndrome)

Stares a lot

He has nothing better to do so he’ll just come join you in your dorm and 👁hi👁

You've learned to block him out so he’ll scare the shit out of you

Sure he doesn't know how to flirt but he has money so he makes up for it

If you look at anything longer than three seconds he's following behind you with his card and the other twelve bags you have

This does have you ending up with things you didn't want so your friends love your random gifts

One of them will walk into potions with a luxury purse and one of the other kids will be like “tf Did you get that?” and your friends are like “🫵” And you're like “I didn't want it” So some of the student body does hate your guts just a little

favorite food is plain white rice

Thinks that acrylic nails go under the skin yk like in those videos with the fake hands pushing the nails up the finger yeah he thinks that actually happens to people

Jaw on the floor when you explain to him that's not what happens

Nsfw kinda

Down to three-way and will NOT let you forget

“I met this cute girl at the-” “I'm down. 😐”

“Oh did you see Harry this morning he was-” “Do you think he'd hook up with us?😐” “Babe. We've talked about this” “just once please”

Has asked you to peg him

unless you have a dick then he's asking for one of those two-way things (you're on my blog you know what I'm talking about dude)

Sub SUCK MY DICK DUDE HES A SUB SHUT UP

Actively begging sobbing on his knees “Please baby Please being so good please”

Would be a swinger and he'd have a pineapple on his front porch

Sorry

Has dabbled in the lockerrooms

Will ask you if the boys can watch him hit and you said only if they see him at his lowest begging and pleading for you he is silent as of now (give him two weeks)

Type of bitch to be covered in hickeys and when someone is like “What happened? To your neck?” and he's like “Literally what are you talking about?” will gaslight them into thinking there's nothing on his neck

Prefers cuddling naked but hates not immediately being in the bath after sex so he has to battle himself in his head

Can't dirty talk he's like “You look so nice when you're not in clothes? Do you like my wee wee?” and you're sitting there “bitch your what?”

Have resulted in him not being allowed to talk

Quickies number one hater

Needs his time to get into pussybitchboy mode

Okay bye

[shoechoe]

Im going to be honest i do not think we need any more greek mythology media i think we have more than enough of that

[adoregojo]

what do i do when i have writing block? write a drabble for reo of course, the cure for my halt and depression, a man that i need in my life

reo knew this is a bad idea.

maybe if he had a little piece of mind and considered the fact that you will end up inebriated to the point where you were wiggling around like a spaghetti, leaping joyfully every short second you got. even chanting a random melody, handing him a non-existence microphone as if you were in a karaoke, 一a place he grew to love because of you一

don't get him wrong, reo loved a lot of things about you, most of seeing you carefree, like a free bird. shuffling around the street for all what you cared for the world, he couldn't feel anything but the universe thumping in his ribcage.

it was you two engagement celebration. nevertheless, he scored nothing more then be enclosed by other reeking riches bastard, he spent the whole night seething at whoever laid an eye on you. violet hues filled with cold acquisitive greed. that left him drying sober, he just couldn't drift away his eyes of you. and if it wasn't for the cockblooker 一aka his parents一 crawling his way to guests that he bet reading a newspaper would have been more fun than keeping a chat with them, he would've been spent the whole night glued to your figure.

before he knew it, you were all drunk and barely able to walk two steps straight. reo wanted any reason to leave early anyway, so he take off your shoes ever so mildly, caressing his fingers cautiously beyond the pained parts, mainly the heel to the achilles tendon. you mumbled something about the pairs suffocating you throughout the whole night. so now they were hung by his two fingers.

all what he had of despair glided into ashes the moment it was only you and him, it may be left uncharted, but reo always felt like it was only the two of you in this world, a world where he doesn't have to carry the burden of being judged, where he can spin you around without worrying about slamming flatly onto the floor, where he can slow dance with you in his arms without feeling like an idiot every time he stepped on your feet 一out of nervousness, not his fault that your face was too much of a distraction.

"heyyyy, reoo, look at me! don't i look enlightened under the sunlight." you sluggish, a hand under your chin as you posed, feeling yourself as you blow your fiancé's a kiss. reo cold feel an arrow keening throughout his heart, and somehow he still managed to gather himself to not collapse on the dirty ground.

"dearest. as much as you look astonishing as ever, this is a street light, and it's almost midnight."

your face fell off onto a sulk, flipping your thumb downward at reo. "booo, haterr." you say as you stick out your tongue at your soon to be husband beaming back playfully, he wasn't even bothered.

"I assure you, my love. no hater is willing to carry these pair of shoes. they hella stinky." says reo, shoving your pairs away as possible, even blocking his nose holes merrily. and he couldn't be happier when you gasped dramatically, slamming your palm on your chest where your poor, fragile heart shattered at such painful words.

"nonsense! i will not take such a fails accusation! these twins of mine will remain memorized forever," you say heedlessly, whirling around in circles to prove your pointlessness.

reo says something about being careful, but you keep spinning yourself until your vision becomes blurry and your eyes were drifting in different directions. you were dizzy, so dizzy your feet were betraying you, you couldn't keep your balance, and before you meet the ground, a firm arm caught you midway.

"hey! i told you to be careful," reo's hand made it way to your waist, keeping you in shape. you almost felt like a slimy baby in his grip, he wanted to scold you more, for being reckless, for smiling broadly and making him gush, for holding his soul hostage, but he was far, far a goner to be rescued.

"haha, i did it because i knew you'd catch me." your chuckles overcome him any sense of life within him, the amethyst eyes of his only sees you, only felt the wreck of yearning pouring on you, reo's heart was pinning under your spell.

"yeah?" he asked, a stupid lovesick smile on his face.

"mhm! you'd always come to catch me when i fall." you were right, he'd jog his way to the end of the world for you. to make sure your save and sound.

"always," he assures you, tightening his hand to pull you even closer that no such thing as personal space exists between him and you, your light cologne blending with his heavy one. he snuggled his nose against the skin of your neck, drinking on your scents, as if it was the only air that bloomed his lungs. it was ticklish that it made you laugh inwardly, which was a balm on his chest. presses a quick peck on your warm cheek along the way. then carrying you with one hand like a lightweight tool to him.

"let's go home my prince charming, i need to take a looong bath." you babbled, fondling him a sloppy kiss just an inch away from his lips. a little dumbfounded, he still drags you alongside with him, you were a farther goner to notice the struck expression he had glued to his face, a faint reddish hue across his cheekbones and tip-ears.

"I'm already embracing it." maybe you were too drunk to hear that, maybe he didn't say it out too loud, maybe he's too in love to care, who knows.

[satrs]

✘𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘢 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵｡✘

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎Requested by my lovely darling @amiii0 &lt;;33

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; seems that the hatered the both of you had for each other was all just play pretend.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; Izana Kurokawa x fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 2.4k

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! unprotected sex. dirty talk(?). riding. slight sub Izana. pussydrunk Izana. enemies to lovers. reader wears a skirt. nicknames(princess, good girl, baby).

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!

"Why is he here? You said we'd be alone."

You asked from the doorstep as you heard noises from the inside of the house, brows furrowing.

You hated him. His annoying remarks and insults always managed to drive you mad. Ever since that one time the both of you got caught in an argument when you came over to visit his sister, who also happened to be your best friend- Emma, there is not a moment where the both of you don't shoot dirty looks at each other.

"I thought so too. He came back with his friends some time ago and I don't think they'll leave any time soon." Your visibly displeased expression causes Emma to flash you a nervous smile, trying to calm you down. "Look, we can go out if you-"

"There's no need to." You both looked at the young blonde man who appeared next to Emma, a handsome smirk plastered on his face as he leaned against the door, looking at you.

Your annoyed expression soon turned into one of joy as you saw the man, lightly biting the inside of your cheek. "Mikey. Hey." He only let out a low chuckle in return, his attention now on Emma. "It's alright, sis. They're all leaving now anyway. I'll tell him to go to his room and not be a pain in the ass." You chuckled at his remark, stepping inside the house soon after.

Right after you kicked off your shoes and put off your jacket, you heard a whistle ring behind you and as you turned around, a long-haired blonde man, accompanied by glasses on his nose stood behind you, cheeky grin on his face as he shamelessly looked you up and down. You huffed at that, quickly making your way into the living room, still feeling the long-haired man's eyes boring into your back.

"Didn't know Izana had a girl." You gasped in shock as you felt someone's hot breath on your neck, coming face to face with a black-haired man, a scar over half of his face. A sour expression overtook you, offended by his words. "Like hell. I'd rather die."

You heard the mentioned man let out a pity laugh from the couch at that, face twisted in distaste. Before you could snap at him, another man appeared next to the one behind you, roughly patting his shoulder. "Let's get out of here, Kakucho. We don't want to bother this pretty girl, do we?"

"Get moving, Ran." Emma interfered, crossed arms over her chest as she urged the men to leave. Ran chuckled at that, him and Kakucho making their way to the door. "You're a pretty girl too Emma. No need to be jealous."

"Ran you're out of here in the next ten seconds or I'll make you." Ran raised his hands in defeat. "The overprotective brother and jealous boyfriend acting doesn't suit you right, Mikey. See ya around."

Mikey gritted his teeth at that, visibly annoyed by his brother's companions, soon turning his attention towards his brother on the couch. "Just because Shinchiro is gone for some days doesn't mean you can act like a bitch. He entrusted me the household."

"I'm acting like a bitch?" He stood up, firmly glaring at you before letting out a sarcastic laugh and turning to go to his room, trying to escape the argument. Mikey and Emma both chuckled at his action. "Almost unbelievable that he's the second oldest."

"Petty as always." Mikey's gaze shifted back to you. "Both of you have fun, yeah?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ✘ ¨*:·.

You and Emma both made yourself comfortable on the couch, binging you both's favorite TV show until it struck you. "Emma? Why aren't you in uniform?" You motioned on your shirt, which the both of you bought as a matching reference to the show you always watched together, it was almost like some kind of ritual- you came over at her place every weekend to watch it together.

She gasped at that, hand flying to her mouth as she looked at you, as if she had betrayed you. You laughed at that. "I forgot! Wait, I'll go and get it-" "No don't worry I'll get it. I watched this episode already so I won't miss anything." Another gasp erupted from her as she now looked at you in betrayal. "Traitor!" You stood up and rushed to her room, giggling while doing so. "Guilty. I just couldn't wait, you know."

As you stepped into the familiar room you quickly gathered what you came for from her closet, chuckling lightly at you both's silly ideas. But your smile soon disappeared from your face as you heard a barely audible moan from another room. knitting your eyebrows in both confusion and worry, you stepped outside, closely listening for any other noises.

And again, a muffled moan reached your ears and you looked to the source of the voice - Izana's door. "The fuck?", you lowly whispered to yourself. You should just mind your business and go back to Emma but, what if he was hurt?

If we're being honest, you were playing dumb. No one would sound like- this when they are hurt. But, you were curious, who could blame you? Maybe you could get a tease out of it.

You carefully stepped towards his door which was lightly open, peeking through the gap as your hand flew to your mouth at the sight- Izana was on his bed, hair disheveled and sweat glistening on his forehead as his hand rapidly stoked his dick, biting his lip in an attempt to muffle his moans.

"Oh fuck." You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, to invested in the sight before you to look away. There was no denying he was insanely attractive, but he was an asshole. A big one at that. If he could just shut his mouth, then maybe you would-

"Y/N, fuckkk." Did you just hear that right? Did he just- what the hell? There is no way, you have to open that door and confront this sick fuck about-

"Y/N! What is taking you so long? Is everything alright?" You saw Izana stop his movements at the shrill voice of his little sister, shook on his face as he quickly stood up, adjusting his pants back on as curses flew from his lips. "Shit shit shit." Did you hear him?

He felt his heart sink as he heard your voice close- too close to his room. "Y-yeah, I just have to use the bathroom real quick! I got some issues, you know how it is."

You didn't think, mind spinning and stomach turning, hearing both Emma's voice and Izana's loud footsteps coming closer. "Oh damn, you can use my pads and take a shower if you want!" Closer.

"Thanks-" You came face to face with Izana's furious expression, face twisted in both embarrassment and shook. "You fucking creep", he whisper-yelled, "what is wrong with you!?" He slapped the door right into your face as you still stood there, unable to move with your mouth hanging open. What just happened? You should probably go back to Emma and-

The door suddenly swung open and the white-haired male quickly dragged you into his room, closing the door and pressing you right onto it and locking the door, too fast for you to react. "You had it coming." and with that he smacked his lips against yours, you gasping into his mouth in shock before leaning into it, taking what he gave you.

The both of you had to catch your breath after the kiss, low-lidded purple eyes staring at you. You finally took the courage to speak up, shoving him roughly, causing him to take a few steps back near his bed, talking up to him to lecture him. "You're the creep here. You moaned my name and then you think the only response you can think of is kiss me? You're fucking disgusting."

He sat at the edge of his bed, head falling into his hand as he groaned into it, regretting his actions. "Sorry." A smirk crept it's way onto your features at the sound of his voice. Never had you heard him say sorry. Hell- you didn't know that this word was even in his vocabulary. Maybe he did have some heart in him.

"Saying sorry doesn't do anything." He peered up at that, wide eyes looking at your unreadable expression, a confused look on his face as you moved near him, staring to straddle his lap. But he didn't complain, oh no, he let you do you.

If he was being honest, he was still horny and hard- so, why not?

You lightly pushed him onto the bed, head leaning down to his, mere inches away from his face. "Tell me," You placed a feather-light kiss to his neck, his shacky breath causing you to grin against his tanned skin, "tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Your whisper against his lips caused his dick to twitch painfully in his pants and he knew for sure you felt it too. Of course you would tease him, he hated you after all. Or, that's what you thought.

He didn't have to usher a word, his actions speaking for themself as his hands took hold of your hip, grinding you on top his clothed length. "You exactly know what I want, Y/N. And you sure as hell want it too." You had to muffle a moan by caging your lip between your teeth as your clothed clit bumped against his trousers just right, needily rocking your hips to his rhythm. Thank God you wore a skirt today.

"See? You actually can keep that petty mouth shut. What a surprise." A frustrated groan left your lips at his teasing, growing needier by any second, quickly raising your hips to free his erection from his trousers, pushing your panties to the side as you lead his angry tip through your wet folds, sinful sounds escaping the both of you. "What a good girl," His words got cut of by a low moan as you sank down onto him, walls hugging his length as if you were molded for his cock, next words only audible as a whisper, "That’s it."

Your hips swiftly began to move back and forth, his hands sneaking to your ass to increase the rythm, flesh of your ass ripping at the harsh impact of his hand on it.

He lifted his head to look where your bodies were connected, another moan escaping his lips as you clenched around him, head falling back into the cushion, eyes closed in pleasure. "Fuck."

A knock snapped Izana out of his pleasure, head snapping to the door. "I'm going out for a bit. You wanna join?" It was the voice of his brother, Mikey. Always in the worst possible moments-

"Answer him." His gaze went back at you, your eyes looking up at him from his neck, hips beginning to pick up their pace, causing his hand to clasp over his mouth, groaning into it.

"Izana? You alright there, bro?" The doorknob began to twist and turn, Izana's heart rapidly breathing. Stop moving, stop moving, stop-

A moan escaped his lips as you bit onto his neck to muffle your own moans, curses falling from his lips as his hand griped your ass thightly, trying to halt your movements. "F-fuck off, i'm not gonna-", He stopped himself, slapping your ass in a warning manner as your hole sucked him in. "go out with you."

He could still muster the sigh from his brother before he heard his footsteps disapearing, heart now feeling a bit more at ease. But there was still one problem- Emma. He looked at the clock. It's been ten minutes since you caught him.

You have to stop right now, or Emma will get suspicious. But he can't. "Pretty pussy going to be the death of me- shiitt, just like that, baby. Don't stop, gotta be quick."

His brows knitted as he felt himself nearing his limit, soon begining to thrust up into you roughly, leaving you gasping for air and mewl into his neck. "I'm gonna cum, 'zana." He groaned at the nickname you gave him, hips speeding up and sound of skin slapping on each other growing louder. "Yeah? Then be a good girl and cream 'round me."

With one more thrust of his hips your body arched into his touch, thighs shacking in his hold as you came undone, face twisting in pleasure. "Give it to me, princess. All of it."

Your walls flutter around him, tight grip around him, his thrusts turning sloppy before he painted your walls in his hot cum, hand flying to your neck to push his lips onto yours, moaning and groaning into your mouth.

The both of you soon catched your breath, your body falling limp ontop of him until you heared footsteps approacing. "Y/N? Where the hell are you?" The footsteps momentarily disapeared into the bathroom until returning to Izana's door, twisting the knob frantically. "Izana! What is going on, is Y/N with you?"

Your eyes shoot up at him, pleading him to say no, but his smirk made you realize what he was about to do. His hand brushed some hair out of your face before answering. "Yeah, why?"

You cursed under your breath before quickly getting off of the young man, him trying to hide the wide grin that was threatening to grow. "Y/N What the hell? Why is the door locked?"

Izana also adjusted himself quicly as you rushed to the door, sitting up on his bed. You came to view with a confused and both furious Emma, face showing all you needed to know.

Your breathing was back to normal but your hair were still slightly out of place, your skirt riding up a bit too high on your thighs. "Y/N. This better not be what I think-"

"We were just talking, calm down." Emma's eyes snapped to his brother, eyebrow quirking up at that. "Talking?" He shrugged. "Yeah. Settling our quarrel." Your head craned into his direction, slight smirk played on his lips. "Right, Y/N?"

You felt Emma's gaze back at you, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Y-yeah. We're good now." He lightly chuckled at that, surprising the both of you. "I'm glad."

"Me too." Emma's expression was back to her normal, cheerful one, clasping her hands together before taking you by the hand, leading you back to the living room. "Alright, enough chit-chat. The show is waiting."

You looked back at Izana who blew you a teasing kiss before motioning his finger to your thigh, where you felt his cum leaking down, your cheeks lightly heating up at that and frantically trying to wipe it off.

"See you next week, Y/N. I'm already thrilled to watch that show with you."

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[issacballsac]

Gossip

Octavian

Gender Neutral Reader

Shit talker supreme

Now let’s be real here bro doesn’t have a lot of ACTUAL friends

So best believe he CONSTANTLY yaps to you about everything and anything

Regardless of your type of relationship

He can get hella scary at times

A lot of times

The fucking massacre of stuffed animals definitely made you just stand there for a bit

He’s quite the character

Avid rambler though

Only when he’s certain you’re around though

He’s made the mistake of just yapping only to turn and find that he was talking to himself

Now do I love Octavian? Yes, but, he’s a bitch let’s be real

Talks about people in passing quite frequently

Straight up hater in every aspect of it

Not confirmed but something in me tells me he’s a decent dresser and def says shit like “those shoes don’t go with that outfit”

His rude comments earn a few giggles until it’s about you

But at least he’ll tell you to your face

Has moments of slyness and will make you truly ponder if he complimented you or insulted you

Definitely has pissed off a shit ton of people but even though he’s frail he has his family/status and you as a crutch to continue to gossip

Pulled this shit out of my ass at 02:59a.m.

[edelfie]

#𝓣𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘! in her lowest era.

#summary. everyone knows hot girls exude an air of nonchalant confidence at all times. but sometimes, hot girls let the negativity of others get to them. so what is a good friend supposed to do when they have a depressed, insecure hot girl on their hands? remind her of exactly what she is of course—hot! (adverse side effects may include: heartache, enlarged ego, superiority complex, and undesired memories).

or, you have to hit rock bottom before you can reach the top—that entails reliving the moments before the worst decision of your life.

#content warning. discussion of cheating, mentions of edibles/acid, swearing, suicide jokes, Y/N is a hater (as she should be tho tbh)

— TOKYO, 5:47AM

Sometime last night, you had started crying.

The popcorn ceiling stared back at you as the fan blew lukewarm air across your face. There were tear tracks staining your face, marring it in an ugly visage of an emotion you thought you wouldn’t feel. You're certain the rims of your eyes were swollen, an ugly, angry shade of red. The same could be said about your nose and cheeks, which were warm to the touch.

There were deep imprints along your skin from the position you fell asleep in. You must've been cradling your face with your hand as you could trace dents in your forehead that aligned with your fingers. And even the morning after, you can still recall the tightening of your chest as you read Tendou’s messages. It’s a frightening emotion; sadness. And all for what?

Tendou’s words rang true within you, and while they sucked to hear it wasn’t enough to make you shed a tear. You understand where he was coming from, even if you were disappointed in yourself for not realizing it sooner. Would’ve been nice to not have wasted 10 years…

But it was what came after your conversation that truly depressed you to your breaking point. It was an offhand comment that was meant to lift you up, except it only made you spiral further.

“I don’t want to hurt you Y/N.”

Such words were often heard by you, and in your youth it severely pissed you off. You remember storming into your dorm and ranting to your roommate about receiving a similar comment. It always set you off to be perceived as fragile, someone sensitive and easy to break. Maybe that’s why people stopped telling you as you got older—then knew how sensitive you were to it.

But instead of the mildly aggravating memories of your childhood, your mind jumped to him and a stupidly ironic text he sent you just weeks ago. And so, as soon as you finished talking with Tendou, you opened the old text thread and searched for it.

If Yachi knew you still kept his number, she would give you a well-deserved scolding. You, on the other hand, prefer to keep the texts—written proof that you weren’t crazy for being as head-over-heels as you were, that none of it was fake (to your knowledge at least).

So, you laid in bed, scrolling absentmindedly through your old texts. You tried not to get choked up at the thought of leaving it all behind—all the jokes, the chemistry, the memories shared. You were not fruitful in your task.

You aren’t normally the type of person to be angsty about showing emotions. You didn't like the thought of you growing too big for your britches, either—that you gained some sort of complex of being above humanity despite have minimal success. But this felt like something childish to cry over.

The thought—no, the reminder—of crying over him of all people made you reel in disgust. To think you wasted tears on him, of all people. The same tears you shed when your family dog died, when you held your baby cousin for the first time, when you left—

He wasn't worth any of them. In fact, he wasn’t worth salt, nor the dirt at the bottom of your shoes. But that's the funny thing about emotions; they defy all logic and reasoning. You knew what you were getting into when you hooked up the first time, and then the second, and the third. And yet, you still feel the immense grief and pain of a familiar memory.

You didn’t cry nearly as hard for any of your previous breakups. Sure, you occasionally thought about the guy you dated for two years, and same with the girl who used you dry then ran. Sometimes you shed a few tears over them, but it was always in the metaphorical sense. What if I did this thing, what if they did that thing, etcetera.

It’s unfair to compare most of your past exes to the selfish man that is Miya Atsumu and the entanglement he wrapped you in. Because ever since that morning you woke up to your number blocked and his ass far away where you can’t reach him, you noticed something about him.

There was something uniquely cruel within him, and it was revealed as you saw just who he was reflecting back at you—a visage of a man who cares for nobody but himself.

There was a time in which you did consider Atsumu to be human, but you have since revoked that right. After all, he approached you looking for a good time. He claimed to want a future with you, but he must’ve been confused. And when he was done milking you like a cow, he vanished. To his richer, prettier, socially acceptable girlfriend—pardon, fiancée.

He got the luxury of whoring around with you, while painting you as the evil, manipulative temptress. Never mind the fact that they were broken up, even if him cozying up in her bed when he should’ve been next to you complicated things. Yet not a single person raised hell to call him what he was—an arrogant, insecure, pampered little boy.

And now look at him. One of Japan’s darlings, an Olympic champion, and now a soon-to-be family man. Miya Atsumu got his way, as he always does. And you were the damn fool for playing the part.

You realized in an instant what had occurred, and with it came a pain that many fail to understand. You were used, both as a shield and as a glorified sex doll. But you weren’t even good enough—worth enough—to keep around. You just had to be tossed out when you weren’t a fun, shiny new toy anymore.

Desperately did you wish these past few months were all some sick, twisted dream, which you would awake from and laugh with your friends about. You’d tell them how, in the dream, you were dating a total douchebag with a serious Madonna-Whore complex, you graciously playing the whore, of course. But at least then you could wake up and breathe in relief that it wasn’t true.

The clock on your side table ticked silently, its hour hand barely past 6. You knew you had to rise soon and begin your day, but for now you were okay with laying and wallowing in your frustration. Only when you get it out of your system will you be able to think clearly and plan ahead.

Of all the girls he could’ve picked, Miya Atsumu picked you. Unfortunately for him, you had already sworn to yourself long ago to never be taken advantage of and made a fool ever again. And he has no idea what’s coming for him.

Someone, somewhere, must’ve said something along the lines of “There is inspiration to be found all around you.” In your groggy state of mind, you couldn’t be bothered to probe further as to who the quote belonged to. What you did know was that you were bombarded by such inspiration. And if you weren’t in such a rush for work, that would almost be a good thing.

Despite your aspirations of being a globally sensationalized popstar, you were still (for the mean time) just a normal person. A normal person with a large Twitter following, but one nonetheless. The money you took in from streaming was chump change, and any gigs willing to hire you would only cover a month of rent on a good day.

To put the god-awful cherry on top, you were now without a label. While being signed was supposed to help you get more attention and produce better quality music, it didn’t translate into anything tangible. After one album and three EPs, your label dropped you, along with an inconceivable amount of debt that you now owed them. Briefly you’ve considered picking up another job or two to pay for it all, but you weren’t sure if it would actually help—you weren’t college educated after all.

Still, you moved on with your life and have dropped songs here and there over the past four years. They all did significantly worse than your previous stuff—having minimal promotion, poor sound mixing, and no cohesion between them. It was during this period that you met Yachi, Asahi, and Terushima, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Those three have saved your ass from total irrelevancy many times over, and often just out of the goodness of their hearts.

It does make you feel as though you’re using them sometimes. Even though you know they mean well by refusing to accept payment from you, you still hate the idea of being indebted to them like you are with your old label.

You have to remind yourself that they’re nice people who would never do that to you. Not when they know how you’re so broke, you’ve taken to learning how to produce your own music and bought your own microphone with money you’ve saved over the years. You’ve even picked up a side gig DJ-ing at a popular Tokyo club. That’s what the majority of your followers know you from, unfortunately.

Regardless, you stumble through your tiny studio apartment, opening the small storage closet you workshopped into an actual closet, curtesy of your landlord.

“Where the hell did I put it…” you mutter.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as you try to pick out your apron among the mass of clothes threatening to fall off their hangers. It’s no use though—the black of your apron is bound to blend in with every other item you own.

Forcing a gap with both your arms, you hurriedly make your way through each hanger, panting at the weight pressing down on your hands. If it weren’t for the clatter of flimsy metal against wood, you likely wouldn’t have realized something fell. Gaze following the noise, you feel a pitter-patter in your heart at the sight.

The men's hoodie laid dead on your dusty floor, the number 13 across the back peeling away.

Of course he would leave it here. Was this supposed to be funny to him? Some sick, twisted mind game he was playing at you with so that he can live in your head? Or was he truly just such an airhead he didn't do his due diligence in cleaning house?

You knew it was the latter, but still...the blood boiled under your skin as you picked the hoodie up with your foot and slung it across your room as best you could. You'd rather be burned by the rays of a thousand suns than relieve the day you received it.

It took another five minutes before you found your work uniform and apron, quickly ushering yourself into your bathroom to get ready. Somehow, though, it seems the universe has it out for you today—everywhere you turned you were reminded of Atsumu, for worse.

You go to make your breakfast for once? There's leftovers of his still in the fridge. You wanted to be productive and throw out the trash before you left? Too bad, a shard of a plate he broke poked out of the bag and cut you. You go to grab your house keys by the door, fed up by this insanity? There's a matching keychain hanging off of it.

Truly, the ridiculousness of it all left you winded, slamming your door behind you before jogging down your apartment stairs. You just had to leave before it all became too much. Otherwise, then next time your coworkers saw you would be a broadcast from NHK on a woman jumping off the Tokyo Skytree.

As you approach a familiar stoplight, you relax slightly knowing the little cafe you work at is just a few blocks away. The light turns red right as you near it, forcing you to stop dead in your tracks. There are a few other people standing near you, most looking down at their phones or chatting casually.

For whatever reason though, as if you were possessed, you chose against burying your face in your phone and instead looked around the mini plaza. The buildings around you were covered in various promotional art and advertisements. It was there that you locked eyes with Miya Atsumu.

"I don't see what's so special over here." You tease, a smile tugging at your lips.

The blonde besides you cries out, "What?! It's totally the best spot in all of Tokyo!"

"And why should I believe you, 'Tsumu?"

His body moves before his mouth does, pointing directly behind and above you. You turn to look, only to be met by a giant billboard of his face.

"Because I'm in it, obviously." He's clearly proud of it by how his tone vibrates, though not quite confident as his ears are a pinkish-tinge.

You're silent for a few moments. The mammoth before you should feel mocking, as if making fun at your painful normalcy. But it doesn't. By some grace of God, Miya Atsumu is able to make you feel entirely okay with being 'normal', at least for the time being.

When you turn back towards him, he seems more nervous than before. His posture is tense, eyes searching yours while expecting disapproval. It's hard not to giggle at the way his own blow wide when you smile instead.

"Well...don't get too comfortable then, because I'll be up there next."

He laughs heartily, a sound you wish to keep inside a music box—a birdcage of your own making. You stumble forward as he swings an arm around your shoulder, leaning down to your ear.

"I'd like that, doll, but only if I'm in it with you."

The light of the crosswalk turns white, and you're sure you've never walked faster in your life.

Someone must’ve slipped an edible in your drink. That, or you’re still asleep and trapped in a bad dream. A nightmare, actually—the worst nightmare of all time possibly.

Your morning was actually rather uneventful up until this point, sans a few traumatic flashbacks. You arrived to work on time with seconds to spare, quickly tying your apron around your waist and shoving your keys and phone in the pockets. Thankfully your coworkers were kind enough to not mention your frazzled state and silently worked as you assumed your position at the register.

There was an even split of new customers and regulars—a college girl who you’ve served the same iced latte since she was in high school, a woman and her child who will fall to the floor in tears over a cake pop, and a man with the prettiest eyes behind his square glasses. You don’t have the privilege of knowing his order by heart, but the smile playing on his face makes you wish you did.

As you called out another name attached to another face in the crowd, you foolishly allowed yourself to believe today would be normal. It only took a sharp chime of the bell for that to change.

“Welcome in!” You call out the words before you look up.

You can sense the person approaching the counter, stopping a liberal distance away from yourself. They seem to not know what they want or aren't that big of a talker as the only noise you hear is the calm ambiance of the cafe. A heavy feeling of suspense washes over you at once, simultaneously willing you to look up and avoid eye contact. How weird.

Finally, you lift your gaze only to wish you never had.

(Correction: You wished, rather, that you were never born. That way you wouldn't be forced to interact with a disinterested Lia Handa as she stands before you.)

It seems Fate is a cruel mistress, and you have earned her ire today. That's fine. It's cool, even. So long as you pick the right dialogue options, you'll survive this interaction and maybe won't be turned into a gossip piece afterwards. If you weren't tripping on acid before, you definitely were now.

All your worry was misplaced, however, as Lia didn't make any comments towards you. She didn't even look in your general direction for that matter—eyes flipping between the menu and her phone with as much excitement as she could muster. None, it seems.

You suppose this is more favorable than her causing a needless scene or being overly rude and demanding. Still, it irks at you either way. The woman before you, while not your number one enemy, is certainly high up on your list. She allows her fans to harass and slander you despite herself being the homewrecker, and here she is in front of you acting...normal?

No, that's not even the word for it. She's acting as though you don't exist—and you're positive that if she even bothered to treat you as a human and not a mindless capitalist slave she would realize just who you are, and suddenly she would be acting a lot different.

She looks down at the pastry cabinet without much enthusiasm, as expected. Her eyes scanned long enough for it to be awkward before she pointed at one, forcing you to lean your head over to see the one she wanted. Oh, you hated her. Even if you didn't before, you sure as do now.

Still, you take out a small bag and reach into the cabinet to pull out the pastry. It was at that moment that Lia receives a call, cutting you off from asking her how many she wanted. She flips her hair over her should with a heavy sigh, pressing answer and holding the phone up to her ear. Her voice is lighting-quick, yet drags on long enough to be grating.

"Um, ma'am?" The words burned like a poison on your tongue. You consider ripping hers out as she doesn't glance at you, asking "What?" in thinly-veiled annoyance.

"How many do you want?"

She holds up two fingers, still talking and looking down as she fishes for her wallet in her purse. You place the bag with the pastries—cutely designed cookies you saw go viral on Instagram a few days ago—on the counter, swapping it for the credit card she placed. You briefly consider stealing her card information, but she'd surely notice and be even more pissed at you if you did. You can't go around ruining your own reputation like that!

Still, you're almost impressed at how skillfully she ignores you. It's so effectively aggravating you may have to start implementing it in your own life. After all, if you dare to complain about it to anyone else, they wouldn't understand the depth of how insulting it is. Especially as you're forced to watch her walk off, pastries in hand, while you're the only one left with any residual feelings.

Digging a hand into her brown paper bag, she balances her phone between her ear and shoulder. You notice how when she speaks in English, she talks a mile and minute, and if you were a better woman you would assume that was why she was so quiet. But you’re not, and you’re convinced she’s just a bitch.

There is a slim part of your humanity that wishes to crawl out, wishing to be fair for her sake. Maybe she’s just having a bad day, or gets shy talking in public. There are lots of people who feel more confident when posting content online versus interacting in person!

But as you watch her take a bite of that cookie, the words “Taste Me!” iced in baby blue on it, and witness as she reels in disgust and quickly spits it back out…yeah, you’re feeling like a bitch. Especially when a sentence pops into your head, as if sent down in the form of a prophecy by some higher being:

“You’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissing you.”

BLIND ITEMS! —

## this foreign-born beauty influencer was spotted at a cafe this morning trying pastries. however, from her cold demeanor towards staff to her loud talking on a not-so-important seeming phone call, it seems she lacks basic manners. the cherry on top is, of course, when she spit out her food as soon as she took a bite, right in front of the cashier. [revealed: lia handa]

## the self-proclaimed better-twin athlete seems to be living out his final bachelor days. he was caught making out with a fan at a party before downing way too many drinks to be sexy. he then proceeded to make a drunken fool of himself, much to the discomfort of everyone else. [revealed: miya atsumu]

sera_pent. NOOOOO NOT MY FAVS

kelpkelp. y is any1 surprised? lol — justagirl. ikr, as if they haven't been on an off since forever

elmosupremecy. heartless influencers being heartless influencers, shocking ! — leobaby. right, like ofc your fav is awful, they're fucking famous — garagoesgaga. as if your fav is better, yet you worship the ground she walks on — elmosupremecy. does y/n just live in your head rent free? literally get a life LMAO

read more...

NOTES! —

Hello, hello! Another day, another late post and a fundraiser. In memorial of the tragedy at Appalachian High School earlier today, our fundraiser is the Sandy Hook Promise. The Sandy Hook Promise Organization is dedicated to fighting against school-based gun violence and protecting children. You don't have to donate money to support their cause, as there are many volunteer and advocacy opportunities available to make the voices demanding meaningful change against gun violence heard. For more information on the Organization, you can visit their website here and directly donate to their cause here.

It’s come to my attention that in all my notes, I appear to be a serial yapper…I was going to make this one shorter but I changed my mind, so too bad! Anyways, this chapter was very cathartic to write LOL. I, too, was cheated on in the not-so-distant past (aka 2 years ago), but I still feel the effects of it every now and then. To me, it felt exactly as I described it within Y/N, so I hope it resonates with someone else!

Anyways, I fear the last chapter was a flop…at least in my books LOL. I promise I’m not trying to rush through anything—Y/N being insecure is not a plot point of this story, so think of her lowest low as a fruitful beginning! Hence the title LOL. Besides, I think writing text convos is my least developed skill—I’m much more in my element writing full paragraphs, which is saying something since this chapter is pretty janky at parts. So! This is a very convoluted way to say that i changed some of the screenshots towards the end of last chapter, so go back and read that if you want back in on the loop! It's nothing too serious (I think) but just some minor things. I might also change Asahi's thoughts on Y/N but likely not, since it's not really meant to be an 'accurate' reflection of her character, just how he sees her yk.

PREV + MASTERLIST + NEXT

© all rights reserved—edelfie (2024) // do not plagiarize, modify, copy, use, translate, or repost my work on other sites without permission

[believesthings]

How Can Anybody Stay The Same? // Ted Lasso x Reader

A/N: A story inspired by the JP Saxe song “Changed”

Warnings: a fuck ton of angst. A lot of mentions of Michelle

Ted had been trying to get used to calling London “home.” He rolled it around in his head, rolled it around on his tongue. The way he figured it, it’s like a new pair of boots. He needs to break it in. And he’s getting there, he can feel it a little more with the passing days.

His story has always been that he took this job as a way to give Michelle the space she needs; and of course, to a degree, it is. But whether he admits it, consciously or subconsciously, he’s also here for himself.

He’s spent so much of his life wearing different hats: Father, Husband, Coach. Each of which he takes great pride in, but in the shuffle of all of it he worries that he’s lost sight of just being Ted. He’s been learning the parts of himself that he never got to know. Being married to your high school love, growing up as a unit, it’s… different. He meant when he said that wouldn’t change a single moment of it. Of course, he did. It was a wonderful marriage and brought him Henry, the one part of his pedigree he could never find fault in. But since he and Michelle were in tandem for so long, it greatly affected his decision making. Every time he had to make a choice, she was his first priority. Number one, always. Then Henry. Then, and only then, after all the facets of their feelings were considered, he would consider himself.

With London, came a change in titles: Father, of course. Coach (although a different kind of football that he was still adjusting to) and now, freshly added to the list: ex husband. That was a pair of shoes that he never thought would fit. He thought he was good at it, it was all he had known for such a long time. Who was he when he wasn’t the husband of Michelle? That was part of what he came to London to know. While the title of husband fades, the focal point of Ted comes in sharper focus. Father, Coach, Friend, Tea Hater, possibly a functioning alcoholic, which is something that he really should stop and examine about himself one of these days but not now.

He’s growing into the shoes. And the word home is getting more comfortable on the tongue. The more he lets go, the more room he can make for himself.

Of course, this doesn’t all happen overnight. You gotta start somewhere. Ted was no exception. And lord, he started at rock fucking bottom.

When Ted first came to London, he could always tell if he was going to have a good day based on the temperature of his hands.

The two most common phrases about the weather that he heard growing up were, “it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity” and “it wouldn’t actually be that cold if it wasn’t for the wind.”

People told him that London wasn’t actually known for having super hot summers or frigid winters. One of the first interactions he had when he landed was a man shrugging his shoulders and saying “Mate, London is just London. All the time.”

Ted still wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

He figured the London equivalent was “it wouldn’t actually be that cold if it wasn’t so damp.” The rain often had a way of making it seem colder than it was. And it was a big adjustment for him when it came to trying to get over his wife.

“Aw. Heck.” Ted huffed, seeing his breath in front of his own face. It was early in the morning. He went to bed far too late and he awoke to snow blanketing the town. Now to top it off, he left his civics textbook in his car and he couldn’t seem to unlock it to get a hold of it.

“Um, excuse me?”

Ted jumped, looking up to see a blonde girl he had never seen before.

She looks at him expectedly before saying, “Is there a reason you’re trying to break into my vehicle? I can promise you, I don’t have anything interesting in there. Unless you’re looking for some loose change and some Sonic peppermints.”

“I’m sorry, you seem to be mistaken. I’m trying to get into my car. I left my textbook right there in the backseat.” He steps closer, peering into the window and finding… nothing. He looked back at this mystery girl like she had just performed a magic trick.

He looked around to find the parking lot full of cars, but they were the only two people in it, which seemed… odd. Maybe this was a dream. That had to be it, he was still in bed and he would wake up any minute.

The mystery girl pulled out her own set of keys and unlocked the car, reaching in to pull out a pair of gloves. He took a minute to examine her profile. Snow in her hair, cheeks flushed from the cold. She was beautiful. Ted couldn’t believe he’d never met her before.

“Come on now, you didn’t mention you had gloves in there. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have given up so quickly.” It wasn’t his best, but he was freezing, tired and still not entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But, she laughed. And Ted thought it might have been the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, I’d offer to share with you but I only have one pair so we’d both have one gloveless hand.”

Ted figured that wouldn’t be so bad. He thought about saying something about holding their gloveless hands together to stay warm but that seemed entirely too much for a girl whose name he still didn’t know, so he kept quiet.

“May I?” She was holding her hand out to him. Oh god, was she actually going to try to hold his hand? He found himself nodding, dazed. Even though he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to.

He tried to stifle the jolt he felt in his stomach at the feeling of her skin touching his. She grabbed his own car keys out his hand, pressing the car alarm button and Ted practically jumped 10 feet in the air.

He whipped his head around to see his own car, the exact same color, make and model as this mystery girl’s vehicle, two rows over, covered in snow. “Huh. I guess in all the lack of sleep last night, I forgot where I parked. I promise I’m not the type of guy that would normally go snoopin’ around a woman’s car.”

There was that damn laugh again. “I believe you. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I believe you. You have a very honest face.” She holds out her hand again, “I’m Michelle.”

Michelle. The mystery woman has a name.

“I’m Ted.” He holds out his own hand, freezing fingers meeting freezing fingers, clasping around each other.

“Nice to meet you.”

What the hell were the odds that they would be the only two in this freezing cold parking lot, both driving the same type of car, both trying to get into said cars at the exact same time?

“Yeah, you too.”

So yeah, when he comes to London, he still misses her, but only on the days when his hands are cold.

———

Denial. That was what he felt the first time that Michelle told him he had changed. If anything, he figured she had changed. She was the one who didn’t laugh at his jokes anymore. She was the one whose smile didn’t fully reach her eyes when they were together. She was one who let his hand fall out of her grasp when they were out in public. He wished he had changed. He would have given anything to change into someone that she would continue to love.

You’re not the man I love anymore, Ted.

So teach me, Michelle. Teach me how to be the man you love again. I’ll fucking do it, you know I will.

————

The night in Liverpool, after his panic attack, the denial bled into goddamn anger.

It wasn’t the first time he had a panic attack, but it had been a long time since it had happened. They became a pretty frequent occurrence for him after the passing of his dad. And Michelle, the old Michelle, the woman she used to be before “he changed” would help him come down from it. She would hold his hands and tell him stories to distract him. Reminding him of sweeter memories like on their first date when it turned out that the restaurant he was going to take her to was actually converted into a shoe store.

The angers cools to depression at the thought of all the parts of her that he’ll never get to know. But it flares up into anger again at the sight of the divorce papers in front of him.

She wasted no time sending over the divorce papers. Throwing his phone down on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose, he was fucking angry. She liked to tell him he changed all the time, and even if they were true, how could she expect someone to stay the way they were in high school? Nobody ever stays the same. People change. People grow. That’s part of life. A big part of it. You spend your youth learning how to become a person, and your older years learning how to become a good person.

He hates it because when he’s like this, he wants to talk to someone that knows him. He would have to explain all this to Rebecca or Keeley. He laughs bitterly into his whiskey. The one person that could help him through his divorce is the very person he’s divorcing from. The goddamn irony of it all.

He could call his mother, but he knows that’s going to open up a whole plethora of questions. She’ll want to know how Michelle is doing, what she’s been up to. “Gee honey, don’t you think there’s a chance you’ll get back together?” He can’t stomach that line of questioning right now.

And it’s not like he can just close her out of his life forever. They have a child together. A child that has his mother’s eyes. Which he also doesn’t want to think about.

Obviously, pain is an aspect of life. But god, right now, he wished there was someone, anyone else that knew him as well as Michelle did.

He really wanted it to be her. Until he realized that she didn’t want it to be him.

—————-

Ted was nervously playing with the glass in front of him, avoiding going back home.

He knew you would be there, waiting for him. Wanting an explanation that he didn’t want to give.

He kept going back and forth with himself, he knew you probably wouldn’t be mad but there was a difference between logically knowing something to be true and emotionally believing it.

On the other side of it all, Michelle has become something that he explains to his new love. Why he reacts the way does, Why he doesn’t have confidence in himself, why he sometimes can’t accept the love you are so easily willing to give.

He still has some habits that you’re helping him to break. Constantly reminding him that he’s not a burden, that his optimistic nature is a feature and not a bug of his personality.

There is no secret alchemy, relationships just take a lot of work, something he’s learning with you.

It’s still odd for him, to have someone work through the struggle rather than break down and leave.

And when he does get home, you’re there. Like you always are.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask. Leaning against the doorframe.

He shrugs sheepishly but doesn’t actually say anything.

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know. We don’t always have to be talking.”

He nods and makes his way to the couch. His fingers tapping on the tops of his thighs.

You make your way over and sit beside him. Not touching him, not speaking, just sharing the space.

The argument that broke out between the two of you earlier is playing in your heads.

“You gotta let me in, Ted. Just a fucking little bit. I don’t understand what you want me to do. Whether you realize it or not, you’re punishing me for things that she did and that isn’t fair to me. I’m sorry that she hurt you, I am. I truly believe you didn’t deserve it. But, I don’t deserve it either.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’” Ted reaches his hand out to yours and you intertwine them together.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too-“

“No. There’s no need for you to be. Everything you said was true.”

“It’s just something we’re gonna have to work through together, honey.”

“Yeah.” He whispers, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

You cuddle into his side, “so what do you think, time for bed?”

“Heck yeah.”

You don’t let go of his hand, keeping your fingers intertwined. His hands aren’t cold anymore and he’s found something new in himself, a man that you can love. Openly and easily. And he didn’t have to change a damn thing about himself to make it happen.