#so there was always this tinge of 'maybe i still have a chance' but that was so fucking stupid of me

[mysunshine-youremoonlight]

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[aligned-starz]

Crying in the Courtyard - Theodore Nott

⋆｡°✩Pairing : theodore nott x fem!reader

Warnings : fluff/light angst, happy ending, use of y/n

Summary : reader finds something out about her crush.

Song : Crying In the Chapel - Elvis Presley⋆｡°✩

Word Count : 2,210

"So, did you find out? Is he seeing someone?" You gushed in a hushed tone, fisting your Slytherin friend's robes in your hand as you pulled her in, anxious to hear what she has to say.

"Y/n! Calm down, you're going to rip off my bloody buttons. But yes, I did hear something from Blaise." Pansy Parkinson, a friend you hadn't expected to make, replied with a sigh, her expression mirroring your own anxiety. You held your breath, waiting for her next words, knowing deep down that your suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"Y/n..." She trails off, looking for words to explain the news. You met her eyes, a small realization dawning that your suspicions had been correct. 

"I'm sorry. There was talk in the air that Theodore had been seeing someone, and Blaise confirmed it for me," Pansy started, her voice tinged with sympathy as she glanced away, almost as if she was shielding her eyes from your reaction. "Says that he's crushing on a girl, and we believe it to be Daphne."

Your heart sank as her words registered, but another thought flashed in your mind. Blaise, with his charming smile and smooth demeanor, had always seemed to have an affinity for Daphne. You couldn't help but wonder if his confirmation of Theodore's crush was influenced by his own feelings for her.

"Greengrass? Doesn't Blaise like Daphne Greengrass?" 

Your curiosity sparked, and a deep longing for an answer, an answer that may prove that there's still a chance that Nott could be yours. 

"Yes, he does. And Daphne likes another Slytherin boy, like Theo. The two have been teased before, but they had previously mentioned that they're just friends. Maybe something had developed? Theodore also mentioned that the girl he liked may have liked him as well, and Blaise saw them laughing together after class. So, if we connect the information together.." 

Your heart felt as though as it had been hollowed out as Pansy dropped the bombshell. Theodore Nott, the enigma that had captured your thoughts and dreams, was supposedly entangled in a relationship. You leaned against the hall wall, the cold stone offering little solace as you tried to process the news, mind full with a whirlwind of confusion and hurt.

"I'm truly sorry, Y/n," Pansy's voice softened, her usually sharp features softening with genuine sympathy. "I was really rooting for the two of you to become a thing."

Her eyes, normally filled with a mischievous glint, now held a hint of sadness as she spoke, as if she shared in your disappointment. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from Pansy, one that made you realize just how much she valued your friendship.

As Pansy's voice faded into the background, you found yourself lost in a sea of memories, each one a painful reminder of what could have been. You remembered the stolen glances and whispered conversations, the moments shared between the two of you that had ignited a spark of something more, moments where you couldn't take your eyes off one another.

Maybe it was all in your head? It was only you who felt that way. No, he had felt that way for a different girl, not just any girl, Daphne Greengrass. You could never compare, oh how foolish you felt.

"Y/n, are you alright?" She placed a hand on your shoulder, bringing you back from your thoughts. You looked up at her, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"Yes, I'm ok. I expected this, so.." Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, anger at yourself for falling so stupidly.

Before Pansy could see you break down, you decided to leave. You feel so stupid for feeling like this, and you couldn't have someone else see you like this.

"I've got class so um, thank you Pansy." You stammered and started to walk away from the girl, leaving her confused and concerned. 

As the day wore on, Y/n found herself struggling to maintain her composure. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the most inconvenient moments, like droplets of rain in a storm. In Potions class, she buried her face in her textbook, pretending to study as she blinked back the tears that blurred her vision. Tears all caused by the boy who sat at the back of the class, who she refused to even spare a glance at now. But the ache in her chest only intensified with each passing moment, a relentless reminder of the pain she could not escape.

So she stood up abruptly in class, her sudden movement capturing Snape's attention like a disturbance in the otherwise calm atmosphere.

"Do you need a moment, Ms. L/n?" his voice was cold and clipped, his gaze piercing as he scrutinized her.

Y/n met his gaze, her eyes watery but determined. She nodded silently, not daring to speak as she fought to control the storm of emotions raging within her. Snape's expression remained impassive, a faint hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he waited for her response.

"Take all the time you need," he said curtly, his tone dismissive as he turned his attention back to his lesson.

"Thank you, professor." With a heavy heart, Y/n nodded once more, her resolve hardening in the face of his indifference. With one last glance at her teacher, she turned on her heel and strode out of the classroom, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease in her wake.

Theodore Nott, who had been witnessing the whole situation, was confused beyond belief. She was alright this breakfast, she had been chattering and smiling beautifully as usual with her friends. What made her so distressed? So distressed to the point she wouldn't even spare a glance in his way?

The boy raised his hand, ignoring the looks from his friends, and excused himself from class. Though Snape's questioning gaze unsettled him, he was free to go. And the moment that Snape had nodded, the boy was off running after the girl of his dreams.

Finally, she reached the courtyard, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of her emotions. Leaning against the cold stone wall, she allowed herself to surrender to her grief. Each soft sob echoed off the walls, a symphony of heartache that seemed to consume her entirely.

Lost in her misery, she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late. She hastily wiped away her tears, trying to compose herself as she heard someone round the corner.

"Y/n?"

She froze, all the blood draining from her face at the recognition of his voice.

From all the people that could have seen her at a state like this, why did it have to be him? She felt a weight of dread as his presence lingered from behind her.

She slowly turned around, looking at Theo through her red puffed-up eyes. His eyes softened and he kneeled down to sit beside her, his expression filled with concern and something else, something she couldn't quite decipher.

"Tesoro? Are you alright?" His voice was gentle, a soothing melody amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

Forcing a smile, she nodded weakly, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm fine, Theodore. Just... just a bit tired. It's been a bad day."

But he wasn't fooled by her facade. Stepping closer, he tilted his head at the sight of how broken-hearted you looked, and in his own chest, he felt a pang of pain. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/n. I can see that something's wrong."

The vulnerability in his eyes shattered the last of her resolve, and she broke down before him, the truth tumbling from her lips in a rush of emotion. "The boy I like... he doesn't like me back," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared down at her hands, unable to meet Theodore's gaze.

The pang in Theodore's heart deepened, now with a mix of jealousy and seething anger. Who would make such a warm and bella ragazza, cry like this?

"Well, that's his loss," Theodore said, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of something deeper. "Because if it were up to me, I'd never let someone as incredible as you slip through my fingers."

Y/n's eyes widened in astonishment, her heart skipping a beat at his words. "Theodore..." she began, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/n couldn't help but glance at him, a mixture of confusion and curiosity in her eyes. "You think so?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Nott leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear as he whispered, "Of course. Anyone who can't see how incredible you are doesn't deserve you."

He pulled away to look into her eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe away the stubborn tear that fell from her eye.

"Do you remember that time when I was feeling so lost and alone?" he began, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on her cheek. "I tried to push you away, but you refused to leave my side. You stayed with me, even when I didn't deserve it. You're such a kind and loving soul, your soul made mine feel love again like it had never felt before."

Before she could dwell on the thought, He continued as he cupped her face with his hand, his tone growing more teasing with each word. "And besides, if this boy doesn't appreciate you, then he's clearly not worth your time," he declared, a mischievous glint dancing in his stormy eyes. "I mean, he must be pretty stupid to let someone like you cry tears of heartbreak. Che idiota è quel ragazzo."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at his playful jab, the tension between them easing as she felt the weight of Theodore's words lift from her shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by his warmth and the teasing sparkle in his eyes, she dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he had loved her back.

"There it is, that beautiful smile," Theo remarked, his heart swelling at the sight of her radiant expression. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection as he watched the way her cheeks popped out when she laughed, prompting him to playfully pinch one with his hand as he joined in her laughter.

But as the symphony of their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Theodore found himself unable to tear his gaze away from hers. His eyes wandered down to her lips, drawn like a magnet to their soft curve, and he felt a familiar warmth spreading through him, igniting a longing he couldn't ignore.

In that lingering moment of silent connection, Theodore's heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching as he felt an irresistible pull towards her. Without a second thought, he leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against hers in a tender, hesitant kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the world fell away around them, leaving only the sensation of her lips against his, sending sparks of electricity coursing through his veins. In that stolen moment, all doubts and fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming rush of emotion as Theodore finally dared to seize the opportunity he had longed for.

And as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, Theodore knew with absolute certainty that he had found where he belonged – in the embrace of the one who had captured his heart from the very beginning.

"Wait wait!" Y/n mumbled against his lips, pulling away with a concerned look upon her face. He looked up at her in regret, a fear that the kiss didn't feel the same for her made him gulp.

"What about Daphne?"

The regret on his face morphed into confusion.

"What about.. Daphne?" He repeated.

"Yeah, aren't you guys like a thing?" She hesitated, searching for answers in his eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows and wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably.

"What? Daphne likes Blaise."

"Daphne likes Blaise." She repeated, a small smile forming upon her face at the realization.

"Wait, how about you? Who's the boy you said that didn't like you back?"

Y/n laughed out at the realization, ignoring Theo's confused face which made her laugh even more. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the feeling of relief, the joy she felt making her heart beat quickly.

"You! Nott, you were the boy who didn't like me back! Blaise told Pansy that you and Daphne were a thing!" She watched his face for a reaction, and at first he was still confused, but as he realized, his mouth was agape as he said "Ah."

The two soon shared their laughter again, Theo apologizing for the tears he had accidentally made her cry, "All along I was the fool who made you cry," he admitted, his tone soft yet tinged with regret. "I'm sorry, il mio tesoro, if only I had known. How can I make it up to you?"

A playful smirk danced on his lips as he pulled her in closer, his gaze drifting down to her grinning lips.

"I don't know if you can ever make it up to me, Nott. You hurt me pretty bad." She playfully said, wiping away her already dried tears. "Well actually maybe, you can start by kissing me again, you fool."

With a chuckle, Theodore leaned in, capturing her lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, knowing in that moment that he had finally found where he belonged – in the arms of the one who had stood by him through tears and laughter, through every trial and triumph.

⋆｡°✩

Hi! This is my first ever upload on tumblr, so it may not be perfect but hey who cares I got inspired by a personal experience! If you notice any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! xx

[my masterlist⋆｡°✩]

[spider-stark]

SPARRING PARTNER

Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

Summary - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance at beating you in a sparring match.

Warnings - targcest (lightly implied that reader is Daemon's daughter), vague hints regarding smut, blood, horny/stupid aegon & reader, ! MINORS DNI !

Word Count - 2.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Care for a partner?” 

Aegon’s gruff voice had come as a surprise, knocking you from a state of concentration as you swung for one of the training dummies.

Your body jolts. You fumble, then miss your mark by a fraction of an inch. The tip of your blade grazes against the dummies wooden neck, rather than slicing its head clean off. 

Gritting your teeth, blood thrums in your ears as you whirl around to face your cousin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to sneak up on an armed woman?” 

He’s standing within an arm’s length of you—much too close, considering you had been swinging a sword around. One wrong move, and it could’ve been his head that you had taken off. 

In spite of this, Aegon appears utterly at ease. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugs at you, a lopsided smirk pulling at his lips. “I prefer for my women to be dangerous.” 

“I’m the furthest thing from one of your women.” 

“Really?” He cocks a brow, that stupid smirk growing wider. “Must I jog your memory, then? Remind you of Aemond’s name-day celebrations when-” 

You cut him off with a narrow-eyed glare, raising your blade in a feigned-threat. The tip is poised at his navel when you hiss, “Enough.” 

Obedient as always, Aegon’s mouth snaps shut at your command. His mouth remains curved, though, silently taunting you. Memories from last month flash through your mind—the two of you, drunk and stumbling away from the Banquet Hall, hands roaming freely along each other's bodies. 

A mistake. 

That’s all it was: an ignorant, drunken, mistake. 

Still, you feel your cheeks heating at the thought of that night. You huff, sliding your sword back into the leather-sheath strapped around your hips. “I’m not one of your women,” you huff, though you’re not so sure the reminder is meant for him. “You have a type, Aegon—and that type consists wholly of whores.” 

You had nothing against the whores, of course. Many of the ladies working on the Street of Silk were fine women—if anything, you felt bad that they had to deal with him. 

At least they get paid for it, though. You deal with his flirtations free of charge. 

“Well,” Aegon drones, his lilac eyes dipping further south. Sweat soaks through your tunic, making it cling to your skin in a way that accentuates the curve of your waist. “Not wholly of whores.” 

Your expression falls flat. “How flattering.” 

With that, you spin on your heel, fully intending on continuing your training on the other side of the yard. You make it less than a full step before his fingers snag on your wrist, whirling you back around. 

Your free hand finds the hilt of your sword, a warning flashing in your eyes. Worry flashes across his face, though it’s mostly shrouded by arrogance. 

“You never answered my question,” his voice carries a subtle wobble, hardly noticeable. You catch it, though, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. “Would you like a partner?” 

“A sparring partner?” 

The question is phrased like an insult—and, maybe, you had meant it that way. Your focus hones in on the hand still wrapped around your wrist. His smooth, uncalloused, princelike hands. When was the last time he had even held a sword? 

A puzzled frown accentuates the pout of his bottom lip. When he speaks, his voice is so unusually tentative that his response sounds more like a question than an answer. “Yes?” 

You try holding in a laugh—and fail miserably. Aegon’s confusion gives way to annoyance, embarrassment tinging his pale cheeks red. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Several biting remarks instantly come to mind, each a bit more insulting than the last. You hold your tongue. Surely he doesn’t actually believe himself capable of sparring with you, right? When it comes to swordfighting, you’re leagues above him. It wouldn’t even be close to a fair match. 

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, tight-lipped as you hold back another laugh. “But you know what? Sure—I could use some decent competition.” 

Aegon’s chest puffs slightly, confidence soaring. 

You nip that in the bud, “Mind fetching your brother for me?” 

He deflates at the mention of his brother, shoulders slumping forward as he scoffs. “You truly believe Aemond to be better than me?” 

“Without question.” 

Aemond was a bit of a twat—but he was undeniably skilled at swordplay. 

“Do you forget that Aemond and I were trained by the same knight?” Aegon asks, brows raised. “I’m just as skilled with a blade as my brother. If not more.” 

Another laughable statement that has you biting your cheek, trying not to insult him any more than you already had. 

It was true that, same as Aemond, Aegon had been trained by Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, when he was a boy. But if the softness of his palms was any indicator, then he hadn’t done a good job at keeping up with that training. 

“Doubtful.” Sighing, you then gesture to his clothes, “Besides, you’re not even dressed for a fight, Aegon. You can’t move in that!” 

Glancing down at himself, he observes his tight-fitted emerald tunic, slim trousers, and shiny black boots. Fashionable—but terrible for a fight. 

“I assure you that I can move just fine,” he huffs, weakly defending himself. Bringing a hand to his hip, he slides a dagger from a small black sheath. “I’ll prove it!” 

You stare at the weapon, unblinking. Incredulity lines each syllable as you ask, “You plan to fight me with that?” 

It was, admittedly, a very pretty dagger. 

No expense had been spared in its creation. The pommel was forged of shimmering gold, rounded and delicately crafted to emulate the appearance of glistening dragon scales. Dark shagreen wrapped the hilt, and the blade itself was made of steel so dark it appeared onyx, its tip curved ever-so-slightly, making it ideal for carving through flesh. 

Pretty, but still just a dagger. A weapon designed for close-range attacks would do him little good against a sword. 

“It’s a weapon, is it not?” If Aegon’s at all embarrassed by your teasing, he doesn’t show it. His jaw flexes, lilac eyes boring into you. “Fight me.” 

“This is foolish-” you start. 

“Fight me,” Aegon growls, cutting you off. He takes a step closer. Your spine turns to a steel rod, chin held high as his stare narrows on you. “Unless you’re too afraid to lose,” he purrs. 

Your blood simmers. 

He’s goading you. You know that—and take the bait anyway. 

“Fine,” you answer bluntly. 

Rolling your shoulders, you take your stance a few paces back from him. Feet apart and hands raised defensively, you don’t even bother with drawing your weapon—making his brow raise. 

“What about your sword?” He asks, eyeing the sheath at your waist. 

“Don’t need it.” 

Cocky—but true, nonetheless. If you were to spar with a weapon, then you would probably have him disarmed in seconds. Doing it this way, unarmed, you at least stand a chance of getting a good workout before your inevitable victory. 

“Let’s go.” Curling your fingers, you beckon him closer, a taunt in your voice, “Give it your best shot, Aeg.” 

A shiver crawls up his spine, thinking back to Aemond’s name-day, the last time you had called him that. The two of you had been so impatient that you hadn’t made it further than an empty broom closet; his teeth grazing against your neck, and his name oozing from your tongue like honey. 

His hand tightens around the hilt, remembering how it felt to be gripping your bare waist, instead. Remembering, too, how it felt as his touch drifted lower and lower, his fingers hooking along the waistband of your smallclothes just as a maid pushed the door open and started screaming. 

You hadn’t called him Aeg since that night—since you rushed to fix your gown and darted out the door, leaving him to deal with the maid. To hear it again now—after a month of dreaming of it—was pure bliss, as well as a confirmation that, perhaps, you don’t regret that night as much as you wish you did. 

Voice low, he asks, “Ready?” 

You almost smile. Aegon had been trained by the Kingsguard, taught to spar with honor, to wait until your opponent was ready to strike. 

But you were trained by the Rogue Prince. Taught to say fuck honor—strike first, ask questions never. 

A split second and you’re lunging forwards, making a move for his dominant side. 

Aegon’s eyes go wide—then his guard snaps up, forcing him to focus. 

Caught off guard, his movements are desperate and sloppy as he stumbles backwards, evading your strike. 

Your fingertips brush the sleeve of his tunic. If he’d moved a second later, you would have caught him by the wrist. A second later, and you would have already won. 

“Sneaky,” he chastises. 

You open your mouth to respond, only for the words to be cut off by a yelp. He takes you by surprise, barreling straight for you. Steel glimmers as the onyx blade sweeps towards you, slicing through the air much faster than you would’ve thought. 

There’s no time to dodge the strike—not without the risk of tripping over your own feet. You lift your forearm, aiming to block rather than dodge. Aegon notices this—a heartbeat too late—and purposefully slows his own blow. 

You hiss as cold steel grazes against your skin. Crimson trickles towards your elbow, minuscule compared to what it could have been. If Aegon hadn’t hindered his own strike, the blade could have very well cut-through to pure-ivory bone. 

Anger sparks in his eyes. “You could’ve dodged that,” he pants. 

Taking several small steps backwards, you grin at him through gritted teeth. “And you could’ve struck harder.” 

Aegon’s stare narrows and, instantly, that spark flares to an all-consuming wildfire. Lilac flames lick at his irises, the heat of them nipping at your skin, sweat beading along your brow. 

He moves first. 

Slicing from the left, you duck to the right. His counter is swift, aiming for your bicep. But he’s too hesitant—giving you just enough time to twist your body out of the way. 

His movements are as fast and relentless as they are unsustainable. Aegon’s chest heaves, evidence of his fraying endurance. You bide your time, weaving and dodging his blade's curved tip. Letting him push you back and back and back, focusing on evading rather than striking. 

Swinging low, his blade cuts through the front of your tunic, hardly a fucking centimeter from tearing into your sternum. A bit panicked, you snap your arm up. It rams into the side of his dominant wrist, striking a particularly sensitive nerve. 

He hisses. Takes a step back to regroup. 

Never loses his grip, though, knuckles turning white around the hilt. 

“Impressive,” you bite out, feeling your own temper flare. 

Taking advantage of the small window, you move towards him. Swept towards his ankle with your leg, hoping to knock him off balance but— 

—He predicts your movement, jumping back only to immediately press forward again. Every movement is aggressive; not calculated or precise, but still swift and near inescapable. 

You block and block, stumbling back and back. Your footwork turns sloppy, your focus hazy. Then, suddenly, your back is slamming into rough stone. Blade poised at your chest, Aegon grins even as he fights to catch his breath. 

You curse at yourself, realization settling into your bones. 

You counted on him being a poor swordsman—on being out of practice and out of shape. Waiting for his stamina to deplete, knowing that when it did, you could easily overpower him. 

You hadn’t considered that maybe he’d had a strategy of his own, though. 

Aegon had tricked you. Overexerted himself on purpose. Moved faster and faster, ensuring that you were focusing on him and not your surroundings, allowing him to back you into a godsdamned corner. 

Your temper flares. Instincts kick in. 

Your hand thrusts upwards, aiming for the chain dangling around his neck. His freehand shoots up at the same time, catching your fingers just as they wrap around the thick metal. He doesn’t move your hand away, letting the warmth of your touch linger against the column of his throat. 

You had planned to choke him, and Aegon knows this. And yet neither fear nor worry clouds his gaze. His lilac eyes remain bright, glittering with intrigue, of all things. 

A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, which is only mere inches from your own. “If you were this desperate to touch me,” Aegon purrs, the sweetness of arbor red permeating your senses as his breath fans across your cheek, “then you should’ve just asked.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you grind out. 

Aegon leans closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as your foreheads touch. Your heartbeat stutters, then quickens. He loosens his grip on your fingers, not caring that you could easily attack him again. As he brushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, you’re fairly certain that, at this moment, Aegon has no cares at all. 

“You were wrong,” he whispers. 

The world around you begins to fade, your vision hollowing until all that remains is him. You just stare at him—wide-eyed and confused, utterly ensnared. 

“Earlier,” Aegon continues. “You said that you were the furthest thing from my type of woman. But you were wrong–” his touch drifts from your hairline, traveling along your jaw in a soft caress, “–you’re the only type of woman that I want.” 

A serrated breath escape escapes you as Aegon pushes himself against you, further caging you against the stone. Close enough that, with each breath, his plush lips brush against yours. Close enough that you can feel his hardening length buried against your thigh. 

“Every night,” his voice drops to a whimper now. “I’ve thought of you every night since then. Dreamed of you, even.” 

You bite your tongue, scared that if you don’t, you might say something stupid—might tell him that you dreamt of him, too. Of the warmth of his touch, fingertips burning against your skin as they dipped lower lower lower. 

Weakness wins out, a strangled moan slipping from parted lips, “Aeg-” 

“Have you thought of me?” Aegon asks, brows furrowing into an unbearably innocent expression. You squirm against him, your back arching off the stone, hips desperately searching for friction. He clicks his tongue. “Words, dove. Use them.” 

Gods—how you hate yourself for this. For how easy it is for him to toy with you. For how much you enjoy it. 

You rasp, “Yes-” 

In response, a satisfied hum. “Good.” 

For a moment, somehow both brief and eternal, you wait for him to close that gap between you. Wait to feel his lips crash against yours, to taste the sweetness of his tongue. To have his touch once again strike a match within your soul, leaving you to burn in the ecstasy of his embrace. 

And then, suddenly, you feel it—

—the tip of his fucking dagger pressed against the underside of your jaw, a single bead of warmth trickling down the column of your throat. 

Lip curling into a snarl, you glare at Aegon. 

He looks all too pleased with himself, smirking as he asks, “Now am I better than Aemond?” 

You don’t answer him—not with words, at least. But he can see the response simmering in your eyes; a certainty that excited him far more than it scared him.

You were going to kill him.

a/n - honestly just wanted to practice writing a short little fight scene with this! originally this was going to be about aemond, but my love for aegon won out as it always does.

as always, like's comments and reblogs are appreciated! and if any of you want to talk about all things aegon or hotd/asoiaf, my asks/dms are open (please none of my irl friends like hotd i'm begging)

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! I have a request for you!

So I was just thinking how if yuji maybe had a crush on someone and didn’t really know who to ask for advice since nobara would straight up laugh at him, and megumi wouldn’t really care. He knows the reader and Nanami are happily married so he decided to ask him for advice on how to ask the girl out!

This is the cutest thing ever, had to write that asap

Yuji asking Kento Nanami and his wife for relationship advice

Pairing: husband!Nanami x reader; Yuji x reader in a mother/son kinda way

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: If there's one couple that comes to his mind when he thinks about relationships, it has to be you and Nanami-sensei. Who else to ask for relationship advice if not you and him, then?

Warnings: this is pure fluff with a tint of comedy y'all, I'm in love with the Yuji and Nanami content, just a little happiness to brighten your day hehe

Yuji Itadori wanders the halls of Jujutsu High with a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He’s been doing everything he can to pretend everything is normal, but the fact is, he’s got something weighing on him - and it’s not cursed spirits for once. He’s been distracted during training, missing cues and slipping up in ways that aren’t like him. Megumi and Nobara have noticed, but his usual grin deflects their concern. What they don’t know is that there’s a girl he can’t stop thinking about, and Yuji doesn’t know a damn thing about what to do about it.

Which is how he finds himself searching for someone to give him advice - someone who’ll listen without teasing or judgment. He’s crossed Nobara off the list right away, imagining her hysterical laughter that would probably echo through the halls. Megumi was next, but he knew his friend would just shrug and say he didn’t know much about dating either. It isn’t until later that Yuji remembers someone he admires, someone who actually knows about relationships.

But how is he supposed to talk to you?

His footsteps quicken as he makes his way toward Nanami’s office. He knocks twice, then stands there awkwardly without waiting for a reply.

“Come in- Oh, there you are.”

Yuji pushes open the door to find not just Nanami sitting at his desk, but you, his wife, by his side. His heartbeat quickens in an instant. Normally, you don’t spend much time here at Jujutsu High – just like Nanami-sensei himself. It has to mean something that you’re here today when he was just thinking about you, right? Maybe this is the best chance he’ll get in his search for answers.

The two of you have become something of a constant for Yuji, the calm among the chaos that surrounds Jujutsu High. He’s seen the way Nanami looks at you, the subtle way his hand will brush against yours, or the soft look that crosses his face when you laugh. Yuji’s always admired it, but he’s never really thought about it being something he’d want too - until recently.

“Oh, Yuji,” you greet him warmly, your smile immediately easing some of the tension in his chest.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh! Yeah!”

He shuffles from one foot to the other, trying to work out the right way to say this. Damn, this is even more awkward than he thought.

“I was, um, actually hoping to get some advice? Like… relationship advice?”

He glances at Nanami, who’s watching him with his usual steady gaze, then looks back at you, unsure how to continue.

You exchange a look with your husband before patting the chair next to you, gesturing for Yuji to take a seat with a bright smile and a slight blush creeping up your oh so gorgeous face. No wonder even Nanami-sensei fell head over heels for you.

“Of course, Yuji,” you reply, and there’s a softness in your voice that makes him feel like it’s okay to ask for help.

“What’s going on?”

Yuji sinks into the chair, cheeks still tinged pink as he starts to fidget with his fingers. There’s no turning back now.

“There’s this girl. She’s… she’s really nice and funny and strong, and she’s got this great smile and I, uh…”

He takes a breath, unsure how to continue without sounding like an idiot.

“I think I like her. I just don’t know how to… you know, tell her.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly listening but keeping quiet, letting you take the lead. He never thought that someone like Yuji would ask him for advice in something apart from sorcery. But on the other hand…

Nanami’s gaze drifts over you, your warm and welcoming features, how you take in every little thing Yuji says with those little reassuring nods. If there’s someone who’s able to help Yuji, it has to be you. After all, you were the first woman in his life that swept him off his feet.

You smile, leaning forward a little in order to make Yuji feel more comfortable.

“That’s exciting, Yuji. I’m glad you’re thinking about it, even if it feels a little intimidating. Do you know if she might feel the same way?”

Yuji shrugs, grinning sheepishly.

“I have no idea. I think we get along, but I don’t want to make things weird, you know?”

“Understandable,” Nanami throws in, voice calm and composed.

“Rushing into something like this can make things awkward, especially if you don’t fully understand how she feels. But it’s also not wrong to want to make your intentions clear if you truly like her.”

You nod in agreement, a little surprised by the way your usually so quiet husband now took the lead to give his student relationship advice.

“Exactly. Sometimes, a small step can give you some clarity on how she feels too. You don’t have to go all in at once.”

Yuji looks at you both thoughtfully, clearly absorbing every word.

“But how? Like, I don’t know what to say to her. Should I… compliment her or something?”

You chuckle softly, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn’t feel embarrassed.

“Well, a genuine compliment never hurts. But maybe instead of going straight for it, just try spending a little more time with her first. Get a sense of her interests, things she’s passionate about. You’re naturally friendly, Yuji, so use that to your advantage.”

Yuji’s eyes widen, like a lightbulb just went off in his head.

“That… actually makes sense! If I ask her about stuff she likes, then maybe she’ll see I’m interested, right?”

“Exactly,” you reply, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“And if she responds positively, you can build up to saying something more direct. Just be yourself - that’s probably what she likes about you anyway.”

He nods, almost bouncing with excitement, but then his face falls slightly, concern creeping back in.

“But what if she… doesn’t like me like that?”

Nanami speaks up again, his voice even but warm.

“Rejection is a part of life, Yuji. If it happens, it doesn’t weaken your worth. It just means she’s not ready or interested, and that’s okay. You’ll still be the same person with the same good qualities.”

You reach out, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, a sudden wave of pride rushing over you. When you first met Kento, everyone around you kept telling you that it’ll never work out, that he’ll never feel the same way about you, that he’s cold as ice. But especially moments like this show you more than urgently what a kind heart your husband truly has and why you fell in love with him straight away.  

“And remember, we’re here for you no matter what. But you might be surprised - she may already be hoping you’d say something.”

Yuji takes a deep breath, letting your words sink in. The blush on his cheeks deepens, but there’s a new determination in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, more to himself than to either of you.

“I think… I think I can do this. I’ll try to talk to her more, see what she likes, and maybe, if it feels right, I’ll tell her.”

Both you and Nanami nod, clearly proud of him.

“Good,” you response, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“And let us know how it goes.”

Yuji grins, his usual spark returning to his face as he stands up, looking more energized than he has in days.

“Thanks, you guys. Really. This… this means a lot to me.”

With that, he heads out of the office, leaving you and Nanami exchanging a fond look. There’s something special about watching Yuji grow, about seeing him cope with feelings as regular as a high school crush even amidst the chaos of jujutsu life.

After he leaves, you let out a soft sigh.

“It’s so nice to see him think about something other than fighting for a change.”

Nanami chuckles.

“Yes. Though, if he’s anything like you were when we met, I imagine he’ll be quite charming in his attempts.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“And if he’s anything like you, he’ll be both charming and a bit stubborn. But I think he’ll figure it out. He’s got a good heart.”

Bonus:

Days later, Yuji catches you in the hallway, an excited smile breaking across his face as he rushes over to you.

“Hey! I… I tried what you said,” he shouts, his eyes bright.

“Oh?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

“How did it go?”

“She actually seemed really interested! We talked about some of her favorite movies, and I told her about my favorite songs, and it just… it felt natural, you know?”

He rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

“And then, before I could overthink it, I just kind of… told her I liked her. And… she said she liked me too!”

Your face lights up with pride and warmth, feeling a surge of happiness for him.

“Yuji, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

He laughs, a sound full of relief.

“Thank you. I mean, I couldn’t have done it without your help. I was so nervous, but you guys helped me feel like it was okay to just go for it. Now… now I feel like I can face anything!”

“Not that you couldn’t already,” you reply with a grin, giving his shoulder a congratulatory squeeze.

“You’re braver than you think, Yuji. Just remember, relationships are like fighting in their own way. It takes work and patience, but it’s worth it.”

“I’ll remember that,” he promises, his gaze filled with determination.

And as he heads off down the hall, you’re left with a smile on your face, proud of the young man who continues to grow not just as a sorcerer, but as a person.

A voice brings you out of your thoughts - Nanami, who’s been standing nearby, watching the exchange with a slight smile.

“You have a way with these kids,” he says, his voice gentle.

You turn to him, warmth filling your chest as you take his hand.

“Only because I’ve had a good example to follow.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.

“I’d say you’re a natural. And who knows,” he adds with a rare hint of humor, “maybe Yuji’s just opened up the floodgates. We might find ourselves with more ‘romantic advice’ consultations soon.”

You chuckle, leaning into him.

“I think I’d be okay with that. These kids face so much danger. They deserve a little happiness too.”

With a fond smile, Nanami nods, and you both watch as Yuji disappears down the hall, excitement carrying him forward into this new chapter of his life. And for just a moment, everything feels peaceful, like you’re all part of something beautiful in the middle of the storm.

Tags:

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[mrs-weasley-reid]

TRICKY BLUNDER

Spencer Reid x exbau!reader ↳ part 1 here

Synopsis: Mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you. Word Count: almost 4k WARNING: a sprinkle of angst and a cup of fluff. a few curse words. A/N: had two drafts, but this made the most sense in my head. not my gif ctto :)

You gave Spencer a curt nod, "Hey."

Spencer's chest tinged at the sight of your smile. The kind of smile that gave him the impression that you two were absolutely fine and back to normal.

Hotch invited you to assist on the case that's been keeping the entire BAU team stressed out for the past three days. He thought you'd be a great help in increasing the team's morale and, of course, on the case.

Spencer took your arrival as a good sign. It has only been a month since you left the BAU. Maybe you'd change your mind and come back to the team. Besides, you wouldn't have joined them if you were still mad at him, right?

He thought he was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Taking the tiniest detail of your simple nod and civil smile into a desperate hope.

Your last exchange has been eating Spencer alive. The fallout repeatedly played out inside his head over and over in hopes that he could change the ending. He couldn't. Even an average person knew that they could never change what's been done.

You, on the other hand, did not dwell on your interaction with Spencer. In fact, as soon as you gave him some sort of acknowledgment, you immediately jumped in on a conversation with Emily. You were only being polite. It was in your nature.

If you were given the chance to boast, you would've said Hotch was almost begging you to help with the case. But you kept the idea to yourself and arrived with fresh sets of eyes. After all, the case specifically needed your specialty: human trafficking and victimology.

And fresh sets of eyes, you did bring.

While the others were occupied giving you a warm welcome, an arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, taking everyone by surprise, Spencer the most.

"I barely found parking," A man said to you in almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear and gawk about.

Your eyebrows narrowed, "You're an FBI agent. How hard could it be to show your badge and get a spot?" You queried, forgetting about an entire team right in front of you.

The man grinned, "I wanted to prove I could find a spot without my toy." He spoke with you with such ease, as if you've known each other for years.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. If you only weren't in public, you would've smacked your forehead from the utter disbelief you felt. That's when you remembered that it wasn't just the two of you.

"Oh, shoot! I mean…" You gestured at the man next to you, "Guys, meet Agent Ezekiel." You went on to briefly explain that you offered Hotch another pair of hands to help with the case, thus the agent's appearance.

Although you were clear about Ezekiel's purpose, everyone couldn't help but take note of his arm around you. The only man they saw wrap their arm around your shoulders was Emily during an undercover operation, where she pretended to be a guy.

Spencer was not a fan.

"And Zeke, meet the behavioral analysis unit. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Morgan, and… Dr. Reid." You introduced them accordingly, paying attention to each one of the agents.

"Mr. Genius! Nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you." Ezekiel exclaimed, stretching a hand out to Spencer.

Spencer stared at the hand in front of him, "Clearly not enough." He lifted his hands out of his back pockets only to transfer them to the front pockets. "And it's Dr. Reid."

He couldn't help but shift his focus between you and the obnoxious arm on your shoulders. He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling that way. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't get the chance to speak with you.

Ezekiel looked at his hand and retracted it with a shrug. He leaned against you, "You said he was fun." His face was of pure confusion.

You lightly shoved his face away from you, removing his arm on your shoulders in the process. "I promise, he's more helpful than he looks." You had the mistake of looking at Spencer as you spoke with a playful smile, immediately diverting your gaze to anyone else but him.

The reflexive habit was still present. You always had a knack for aiming for Spencer's approval of your humor. After years of trying to make him laugh in spite of feeling depressed about Maeve, adjusting your humor to align with his became second nature.

Spencer found himself smiling a bit at the millisecond of attention you gave him. He missed it. He missed you.

If the universe was giving him a sign, you standing in front of him was one big slap of a sign. This was his chance to make things right with you.

He'd do anything to make it up to you.

His first attempt was to join any conversation you had with anyone on the team. He tried. He really tried to get your attention, but somehow, before he could even breathe a word out, Ezekiel pops out of nowhere and takes up all your attention.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" You groaned yet stood up from your seat. Spencer wished you didn't.

Ezekiel ruffled your hair, "Less complaining, more doing. You lost the bet, remember?" He laughed, leaning against his seat.

Derek swore he saw Spencer's eye twitch inside out after seeing Ezekiel ruffle your hair.

You stomped out of the conference room, mumbling, "Stupid bet," under your throat.

"You would've beaten Morgan up if he asked you the same thing."

You jumped out of shock, spilling a bit of the hot water on the counter. Spencer followed you out, standing awkwardly next to you. You silently wiped the water off the counter and quickly stirred the cup.

With one last tap of the spoon on the edge of the cup, you turned to Spencer, "Just be glad it wasn't you." You deadpanned, walking away without giving him the chance to say a word.

First attempt: failed.

You clearly weren't in the mood to speak with him, especially when you hadn't gotten your usual coffee. You hated precinct coffee to the bone. Thus, you tortured yourself from lack of caffeine and exhaustion.

This sparked Spencer's second attempt to gain your friendship back: offer you coffee. Your coffee order has been in the back of his mind for the past month. It turns out he liked your odd coffee concoction after finding himself with two cups of coffee every morning the first two weeks you were gone.

The first two days were purely out of habit. The rest were out of the delusion that you'd be sitting on your old desk when he gets in the office.

So, he could only imagine the dejection when you arrived the next morning with an unfamiliar coffee order and bright laughter as you told Ezekiel how his coffee order had changed your life for the better.

Spencer constantly expressed his disapproval. Of course, you weren't happy about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

Or so he thought.

As soon as he found an opening, Spencer pulled you into the side. He brought the two of you into an empty interrogation room.

"What are you doing?" You snatched your arm from his grip. You weren't stupid. You noticed Spencer's fixation for your attention. You did your best to be civil, but he was making it very difficult for you.

"You've barely been in the ViCAP unit, and you're already smitten with your superior. I think it's safe to say it does not look good on you. You don't even know whether he's a decent guy." Spencer gulped. He knew exactly how stupid he sounded.

You blinked loudly and chuckled, "So?"

Spencer straightened his back and averted his eyes away from yours, "So… I suggest you…" He trailed off. He didn't plan this far. He should've planned farther than this. It wasn't exactly very clever of him, and your glare made him dumb.

"Suggest me what?" You crossed your arms on your chest. When Spencer didn't speak for fifteen seconds, you continued, "You have no right to tell me what looks good for me. Or anything about me. You made that pretty clear, Reid. Stick with it."

You purposely bumped into his shoulder on your way out, leaving him dumbfounded and dry-mouthed.

His chest felt tight as if a hand was clenching it into the tiniest crumple of paper. He closed his eyes in agony as he whispered, "Damn it," running his fingers through his hair.

With the 187 IQ he's been bragging about, he couldn't imagine his own disappointment when he failed to realize his feelings for you.

You have been nothing but kind to him. When he was grieving, you were the only one he wanted to confide in. You were the only one who could make him smile. The only one who could make him laugh with an average humor. The one that made painful things less miserable.

And without him knowing, he fell for your kind smiles and warm company.

He became addicted to you.

Spencer did his best to avoid it, but he couldn't help himself. How could someone not fall for someone amazing like you? Clearly not him.

Your friendship felt more important to him, though. It always was. It was too important that he spent his time finding a fix for his infatuation. Shoving his growing feelings for you as if it were a crime.

But you just couldn't let him not fall for you. You didn't even try. You were just you, and he was just one of your willing victims. It was inevitable.

The deeper he fell for you, the more he wanted not to.

He was a weakling, a stupid coward, and irrevocably in love with you.

So, was he disappointed that you fell for the genius prodigy? Or was he disappointed that he never realized how deep he'd fallen for you until you left?

The next day was Spencer's worst nightmare.

You were at gunpoint.

Close and yet so far.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot her!" The unsub shouted, holding you by the neck with his arm wrapped around it.

Spencer felt his hands clammy. You were too close to the unsub for him to find an opening. Backup was still a few minutes away. He didn't know what to do.

He took a deep breath, "No one needs to get hurt. Just let her go, and we can talk this out." He kept his gun pointed at the unsub.

He made sure you knew that. He never wanted you to think that he'd ever point a gun at you, even if you weren't already.

The unsub's grip tightened around your neck, and you could barely manage to let out a gasp. Tears began to spill from your eyes as air dissipated from your lungs. Your consciousness was hanging by a thread.

"Shut the hell up!" The unsub shifted the tip of his gun towards Spencer. He glanced at you and at Spencer's pleading face. He laughed, "If you let me go, I'll make sure someone rich buys her. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure they treat her well."

"Don't!" You choked, "Don't listen to him, Spence!" You were stammering, almost unable to form words.

Hearing you call him by his first name for the first time in a while gave Spencer a concussion. A string of déjà vu coursed through his body. Spencer was more terrified than he already was. He couldn't lose you again. He couldn't go through it again.

You could see it in his eyes. You knew that look from miles away. You've seen the same look etched in the deepest vault in your mind. The only thing was, you never imagined that you'd ever be the reason for it.

And just as you always have… you chose him.

You focused on his brown eyes. You took a deep breath and met Spencer's gaze, "Take the blunder."

His eyes widened. He felt his heart quicken. Spencer vigorously shook his head, tightening his grip on his gun.

After spending time together in his gloomy apartment, you and Spencer found enjoyment in playing chess. A few phrases stuck to heart, inside jokes that filled both of you with mindless giggles.

What used to be a funny term turned into something Spencer feared the most at that moment.

You were asking him to shoot you.

"No! I won't do that!" Spencer shouted, shaking his head to the point of dizziness. There must be another way. He needed to find another way to save you.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" The unsub pointed the gun back at your temple. This time, he made sure you felt the cold metal on your skin.

Both you and Spencer knew that the unsub was too far gone to be reasonable. Your plan was the only plan that'd work. He had to shoot you and let the bullet through to hit the unsub down. Of course, it wasn't a perfect one.

But it'd save many lives and his, and you were content with that idea alone. Except Spencer wasn't.

You closed your eyes, "Spencer, do it!" You begged, suffocating. "Take the fucking blunder! Now!"

Spencer didn't notice his watery eyes, fixing his vision solely on you. His hands were shaking. His body was ice cold. He could hear you and your fading breath. He aimed his gun at your shoulder, steadying his stance.

A bright flash and two loud strikes prompted you and the unsub to fall to the floor.

Hotch came into view across Spencer, pointing his gun to where the unsub used to chokehold you.

Spencer flew to your side, taking you in his arms as sobs spilled out of his lips. "No, no, no, no. Not again, no. Please, no." He brushed the hair off your face, holding your cheek.

A chuckle curved the ends of your lips, "You're a horrible shot." Your eyes were still closed as you felt a small sting on your shoulder grow as it bled out.

His breath hitched. Spencer chuckled a cry as he pulled you into a hug. It was so tight and yet gentle enough to let you catch your breath. "I thought I was going to lose you," He whispered. You never thought Spencer would ever hug you tighter than he already was. "I didn't— I don't want to lose you."

Soon, Spencer had to let you go as the paramedics came to your aid. They dragged you out where everyone waited in anticipation.

Ezekiel was the first to run to you, "You alright?" He replaced Spencer's spot on your side.

"I'll live," you shrugged, regretting it immediately as you felt a painful shock travel from your shoulder. You cursed under your breath.

"Stop moving, dumbass." Ezekiel scolded, turning to the paramedics and asking them if there was any way he could help.

Spencer felt empty at the sight. His heart shattered at the sight of someone else taking care of you. But compared to Ezekiel, he had no chance. And it broke Spencer even more.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to befriend you.

So he chose friendship. He always did, after all.

He visited you the next morning, the first one to arrive as soon as visiting hours began.

"Hey," Spencer flashed a thin smile.

You placed the book you were reading down on your lap, returning his smile, "Hey."

This time, Spencer knew you weren't just being polite. It made his heart swell from relief. He still had a chance to make things right.

He walked inside the room, placing a small bouquet of white daisies on the bedside table. Spencer pointed at your book, "I have a book just like that." He started, attempting to make casual conversation.

"It's actually yours," You flipped the pages, revealing thousands of annotations. You only knew one person who did that. "It was my favorite. I couldn't let it go…" You gently wiped the cover.

George Orwell's 1984 novel was the first book Spencer ever lent you. As you packed your stuff from your old desk, you couldn't help but pick up one book to keep.

Spencer looked around, "Where's Agent Ezekiel?" He wondered out loud. Maybe too loud. The name rolled off his tongue with subtle disgust. He felt conflicted about the guy's absence from your side but was also relieved that he got to have you to himself.

"He's talking to my aunt," You replied nonchalantly, refraining yourself from shrugging.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Your aunt? Don't you mean your mom?"

You shook your head, looking at him oddly. "Last I heard, Zeke's my cousin, not my brother."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted over his forehead, "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be weird…" He gave his best to sound casual while he internally screamed in his head. If only he could do a somersault without breaking every bone in his body and looking stupid, he would.

"Imagine the horror," You scoffed, bringing the book up to continue reading.

He watched you silently for a moment. He never knew why he thought a friend was all he was ever going to see you as. It must be the stupidest idea he's ever had.

Spencer bit his lower lip, his hands clenched on the side of your bed, "I—" He bit his tongue, unsure how to continue or how to start.

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, "Hmm? D'you say something?" You closed the book, giving him all the attention he has been dying to get for the past week.

"I—uh…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I know it's way too late to say this, but," Spencer wet his lips and met your gaze, "I'm sorry for being a jerk and—"

"It's okay, Spence," You smiled, cutting him off. "I did throw my feelings at you out of nowhere, so I kind of understand—"

Spencer cut you off, "Still doesn't it make it right for me to be an asshole. It's not like you—"

You shook your head, "But I was being unreasonable. I had no right to stop you from—"

It was like a game. Both of you kept cutting each other off like an indecisive scale.

Spencer couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your face, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. "Just shut up for a second…" His breath fanned on your face, "Please…" He rested his forehead on yours and began to speak as soon as he felt you nod. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry for reacting like a coward. And I'm sorry for being stupid." He spoke in a rush as if he knew you'd talk over him as soon as you had the chance to.

"I'm sorry I said I was disappointed in you. I made a blunder…" You laughed at his joke. "I thought if I turned you down, I'd never have to worry about losing you. I was obviously wrong." He playfully rolled his eyes, only widening your grin. "I was falling for you, and I chickened out—"

You felt giddy. You couldn't stop the grin on your face. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips. You did your best to listen to his sweet words, but damn were you easily distracted by him.

Apologies after apologies, sweet words after sappy sentiments. You grew too impatient. He was talking too much.

"Spencer, just say you love me and kiss me," You interjected, pulling his shirt to get him closer.

He laughed softly. A sound that made your heart skip a beat. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, tilting your head higher.

"I love you… I'm in love with you."

Spencer felt so good to finally admit it: to you and to himself. He pulled you in once more and kissed you again, longer this time.

He couldn't get enough of it, enough of you. He only pulled away when a nurse came in to check on you, blushing like a red beet.

Not a second after, his phone rang. The team was looking for him and wondering where he was, emphasizing the fact that they were to fly in forty minutes.

Spencer went back into the room, low-spirited. He didn't want to leave you just yet. You had barely forgiven him, and he barely knocked some sense into his stubborn head. He wanted to stay and make up for the month he'd missed.

But duty calls, so he sat silently as the jet took off the runway, fiddling with the loose string on his cuff. A snapping sound pulled him out of his trance.

"Reid," Derek called out as he sat on the left seat across Spencer. "How'd it go?" Derek queried.

"How'd what go?" Spencer's eyebrows raised. What could Derek possibly mean?

Derek looked at him as if Spencer was crazy, "You said you'd go to the hospital to get your migraine checked out. Is everything alright?"

JJ heard their conversation, turning on her seat, "Didn't you get checked out last week? Is it getting worse?" She worriedly asked, joining the discussion.

Spencer's ears turned pink as he quickly glanced at JJ, "Y-yeah... I mean, no. I'm fine." He stuttered, clearing his throat.

Emily squinted at the boy genius' stutter. She wasn't as smart as him, but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Which hospital did you go to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The... one on..." Spencer wasn't prepared to take the hot seat. His mind was still clouded by the thought of you. It was like he was under the influence, unable to get his head straight.

"The one where she's staying?" Emily prompted.

"Yeah, the one where she's staying—wait who?" Spencer was taken aback.

Emily grinned, catching a glimpse of a purple hue on Spencer's skin hiding behind his collar. "I think he's fine," She told JJ and Derek. He looked at Spencer, "You're fine, right?"

Spencer hesitantly nodded his head.

Derek's eyebrows knitted, "What are you on about?" He turned to Emily, who was sitting next to him.

"When you're stressed out, what do you usually do?" Emily raised her hand before letting Derek answer, "With Savannah." She smirked.

"Damn, Prentiss. I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life." Derek replied sarcastically.

"No," Emily smacked her forehead. She decided not to explain herself any further. She looked at the genius across him, "So, how is she?" When Spencer gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Stop acting like you didn't just make out with her."

Spencer looked down and giggled silently. Busted. It was your fault, really. Before he left, you made sure to turn his frown upside down and did it so well that his mind was malfunctioning from the memory of your lips, leaving marks on his chest.

"She's fine. The doctor said she'd be able to fly home in a few days." Spencer replied giddily.

Emily smirked, "Yeah, I bet she's fine, alright." She pointed at Spencer's tie, enough hint for Derek and JJ to catch up in the conversation.

"My man," Derek's grinned.

JJ's eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly agape. "So, are you two made up?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah... just a tricky blunder."

reid masterlist | masterlist

[omgeto]

☆ I WANNA BE YOURS — GOJO SATORU

summary: your best friend was used to picking up the pieces of all your heartache. and he's been idly waiting for the day that he could have you all to himself — but when he you give him a chance just for you to snatch it away you realise you might just loose more than his heart.

w/c: 3.3k

cw: afab!reader angst to fluff, you break his heart and put it back together again by giving him a great big blowjob so mdni! also unprotected sex (its more like making love if you ask me)

an: I actually really fw this fic. id say it was my best one yet so give it a chance people, just like how you should give gojo a chance. since he's actually super loveable here. hope you enjoy!

gojo satoru was hopelessly in love with you, and everyone seemed to know that, but you. he was your best friend, someone that you relied on, depended on, its been that way since you were kids. ‘she’d never see me that way,’ he’d whine to all his friends about you, whenever they’d see you together, holding hands, cuddling, but still proclaiming the title as ‘just friends.’

you were currently crying in his arms, as he consoled you, caressing your back. gojo was used to this routine by now – you’d get a boyfriend, they’d break your heart, and he was left to pick up the pieces. “i just don’t get how this one failed, i thought i was doing everything right,” you mumble, your voice breaking as you sniffle against his chest.

“they just don’t appreciate how great you truly are,” he comforts you, a silent “i do though,’ left unsaid, as he stares down at your tear stained face.

“satoru?” you ask, pulling slightly away from him, “i'm pretty, right?”

“don’t even ask me that shit,” he scoffed, “you already know the answer.”

“just answer.” you did know what his answer would be already, but you just had to hear it, “i just need to know why all my relationships end.”

“listen to me,” he demands, tenderly holding your face in both of his hands, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you, “you're beautiful. you always have been, and it's not even just your looks, it’s your whole being, everything about you. there’s nothing wrong with you, you just have a terrible taste in guys,” he finishes with a goofy smile trying to lighten the mood.

“yeah, maybe you're right,” you reply with a soft sigh, your gaze dropping to avoid his intense stare. It was both comforting and unnerving how he could always see through your insecurities.

“i don't say things i don't mean, you know that.” he tilts your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his eyes once again. “anyways we should prob–” 

you press your lips against him, interrupting his sentence, and he eases into it, his lips moving against yours with no hesitation. but you pull away as quickly as you kiss him, your eyes widening as you realise what you’ve done. “shit im sorry satoru, i didn’t mean that.”

the air around you seems to shift, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the unexpected moment. you can feel your cheeks flushing, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. his fingers brush against your jaw, gently guiding your gaze back to his. the intensity in his eyes is undeniable, a silent acknowledgment of the shared feelings that had been hovering beneath the surface for so long.

"fuck that," he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. he closes the gap between you again, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. 

the softness of your lips against his is a sensation he’s dreamt of, and now that it's happening, it's even more intoxicating than he imagined. his hands cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss.

his lips move against yours with a skilled finesse, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady mixture that leaves you breathless. your fingers find their way to his hair, tangling in the silken strands as you pull him closer, your bodies pressed together. 

“satoru, i need you.” you tug against the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his. you were desperate, craving his touch, “need you to make me feel better.”

gojo took your words seriously, aiming to make you forget about all the heartache you’ve ever felt with those other guys, and focus only on him. he lays you down on the couch, unbuttoning your shirt, pulling your tits out of your bra. 

“don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of you,” he mutters, pressing kisses into your cleavage, until his lips eventually circle your nipple, suckling and pulling at it. you gasp slightly at the feeling of his tongue swirling on your tits. your hands go back into his hair, roaming through his scalp, tugging hard as he bites down on your nipple.

his mouth remains on you, his hand trailing down into your underwear, rubbing circles on your clit. you whimper at the contact, feeling yourself getting wetter as his fingers enter you, he starts off slow pushing his digits in you gently.

“is this okay?” he asks, he wanted to make sure you felt good, that was his priority. he grins as you nod, too caught up in your pleasure to verbally respond. his quickens his pace, gyrating his fingers into you, pressing another searing kiss on your mouth. 

you were dripping over his digits, as they pistoned in and out of you, but your hands reach out to his belt as you moan out, “‘toru i wanna feel you.”

“you wanna feel me huh?” he teases, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, he pulls out his hardened dick and strokes it a few times before rubbing it down your wet slit – teasing you with just his tip.

“c-c’mon,” you whine, grinding your hips down against him. he smirks at your excitement, forcing his dick inside you, your eyes widen as your pussy stretches and gojo can only bite down on his lips as you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” his eyes stay fixed on you, he loves you like this – pinned under him, clawing at his back, your mouth parting at the pleasure that he’s giving to you.

your legs wrap around his hips as he sinks into you further, you could feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear, “you’re perfect, this is perfect.” he sucks on your collar bone, kissing and biting as he continues to thrust into you.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much.”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name. 

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, scratching at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“toru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, thrusting into you a few more times before you both reach your peak. and just before he’s about to release into you, his whispers a barely audible “i love you” right in your ear. he sprays your walls and you cum all over him, mixing in with him. he slumps down on you, pressing his forehead against yours, his dick remaining in you as he catches his breath.

as you finally disentangle your bodies, gojo reclines on the couch, a blissful smile gracing his lips. his breathing gradually transforms into gentle sighs, a sure sign that he has succumbed to sleep. you weren’t oblivious to his feelings towards you – the way his gaze would linger a little too long, how his hugs would be tight and comforting. he was in love with you – and you didn’t know how to deal with that.

all of your relationships never lasted, they always had an issue with something you did. you ruined them. and you didn’t want to ruin gojo, you’ve been together since you were children and he’s always been so good to you. you couldn’t bear the thought of causing gojo pain.

your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before you turn away, your mind racing with a storm of thoughts. you've been friends for so long, and the prospect of losing that connection is heartbreaking. but you also can't ignore the truth that's been staring you in the face – gojo's feelings have crossed the line from friendship to something deeper.

as you quietly gather your clothes, your heart aches with conflicting emotions. you've always been there for each other, and the thought of hurting him tears at your very core. with a heavy sigh, you dress in silence, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts. 

“you’re really just gonna leave?” he calls out behind you as you head to the door, your hand frozen on the handle.

“satoru,” you gasp, turning to face him guiltily, “i thought you were asleep.”

“you were actually just gonna leave?” he accuses further, ignoring your comments, “after this, after what we just did?”

“this doesn’t change anything,” you say shaking your head with your eyes closed, you couldn’t see his face.

“it doesn’t change anything?” he scoffs, standing up, walking over to you, “how can you say that? after i've given you my all, literally everything i can offer to you, and that still isn’t enough.”

"i was scared, toru," you ramble, the truth spilling out of you, your voice catching as you admit your own fear. he was upset, this was the last thing you wanted, him looking at you, his eyes pleading for you to choose him,"i've seen how my past relationships have crumbled, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too."

his gaze softens for a moment, his fingers itching to reach out to you. "but things can just go back to the way they were with us," you continue, your words wavering, unsure if they're just a desperate attempt to keep things safe and familiar.

“i think we both know they can’t,” he says bitterly, his hand clenches at his side, “just answer this. why was it never me?”

“i’d ruin you,” you explain, your hand reaching out towards his, a soft smile on your face, “you’ve seen how i am with all those other guys. you’re too good for me.”

"no, I'm not good enough for you," he concludes, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness. he takes a step back, his expression conflicted, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

with your eyes brimming with unshed tears, you watch as he rushes past you, his departure leaving an ache in your chest. "you stay, I need to clear my head," he mutters, his voice strained, and then he's gone, leaving you standing there, torn between your fears and the feelings you've been trying to deny.

as gojo stormed out of the apartment, his emotions were a tangled mess within him. the mixture of frustration, hurt, and longing had him feeling like he was caught in a whirlwind. he couldn't believe how everything had escalated so quickly, how he had allowed himself to be vulnerable, only to feel tossed aside.

“suguru, i fucked up,” he cries into the phone to his best friend, his voice laden with distress, “i fucked up so bad.”

“satoru, calm down,” geto tries to soothe him, his tone steady, “what exactly did you do?”

“I fucked her,” he forces the words out, a mixture of regret and frustration in his voice, and he could sense geto wince on the other end of the line, “she kissed me, and i fucked her.”

"that's a good thing, isn't it?" geto's voice holds a note of confusion.

gojo's sigh came through the phone, heavy with a sense of defeat. "bro, she doesn't love me back," he practically wails, the weight of his realisation crashing over him, "she doesn't love me back. i got too greedy, she gave me an inch and i took it too far.”

"are you sure?" geto inquires, his tone thoughtful, "she wouldn’t have agreed to have sex with you if she wasn’t feeling something. i've seen you two together, i've seen how she looks at you. she loves you."

"if only it were that simple," gojo mutters, frustration lacing his words. "she said it doesn't change anything between us. that it was just a moment of weakness."

there was a pause on the line, geto processing gojo's words. "look, satoru, I know it's not easy, but maybe she's just scared. she literally just got out of a break up too, she’s probably just overwhelmed."

"but what if I've ruined everything?" gojo's voice was laced with uncertainty. "what if I've made things worse?"

"you won't know unless you talk to her," geto advises, his voice gentle yet firm. "honesty is the best way to navigate this situation. tell her how you feel, listen to what she has to say, and go from there."

gojo sighs, his tension slowly easing as he absorbs his friend's words. "you're right. i need to face this head-on."

"good, this whole ‘will they? won’t they?’ schtick that you two have going on, has gotten old. very old.” geto finishes, abruptly ending the call.

gojo takes a deep breath, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. he knew he had to confront the situation, to lay his feelings on the line and hope for the best. with a newfound resolve, he gathers his thoughts and prepares to have the difficult conversation that lay ahead.

“you came back,” is the first thing you say, when gojo enters the apartment. you couldn’t gauge his mood, his expression was off, and you didn’t want to upset him further. 

“well it is my apartment after all,” he spits out a bit too coldly, his words laced with tension. however, his face softens as he takes a step toward you, the coldness melting away,, “besides i didn’t go far, just outside.”

you nod in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. your uncertainty making it hard to find the right words. the atmosphere is tense, and you're acutely aware of the weight of the situation between you.

"i had some time to think," gojo starts, his voice softer now, "and i realised that running away from this won't solve anything."

his words draw your attention, and you meet his gaze, searching for any clues in his eyes. "satoru, I'm sorry about what happened earlier. i shouldn't have acted on my emotions like that."

“it’s ok i-”

“no it’s not okay,” you insist, stepping towards him grabbing his hand, “i never should of acted that way, disregarding like you’re nothing. i was wrong.” you had time to think after gojo left, and you knew you were being unreasonable. there was a guy who was ready to love you, give you his all, and you were just going to throw him away without a chance. 

he weight of your words hangs between you both, the air thick with the shared acknowledgement of your mistakes. and as the intensity of the moment settles, a newfound sense of clarity takes hold – the understanding that your feelings for each other can't be ignored, no matter how much you try to suppress them.

“you really fucked w my feelings y’know,” gojo’s words hang in the air, heavy with hurt. his eyes bore into yours, his emotions laid bare.

“i know,” you reply softly, your voice laced with regret, “and i’m so sorry toru. i never meant to hurt you like that. i was scared, and i didn’t know how to handle my own feelings so i lashed out.”

gojo's gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "you were scared? of what?"

"of losing you," you admit, your voice quivering slightly as you reveal your deepest fear. "you mean so much to me. you're my best friend, and I was afraid that if we crossed that line, it would ruin everything we have."

a mixture of emotions passes over gojo's face – surprise, realisation, and something else, something that you can't quite pinpoint. "you think being with me would ruin our friendship?" he asks, slightly offended.

you shake your head, your eyes locking onto his. "no, that's not what I meant. I just... I've seen how my past relationships ended, and i didn't want the same thing to happen with us. i didn't want to hurt you or lose what we have."

“i love you.” he declares simply, “that’s all that matters.” you couldn’t even respond because he was right, nothing else mattered. he places a gentle kiss to your forward, wrapping his arms around you.          

“let me make me it up to you,” you whisper, looking up at him bashfully through your eyelashes, “let me show you how much i love you.”

“you don’t have to–” he starts, but he pauses, taking a sharp inhale as your hands slip into his jeans. you peck his lips before working his way down to your knees. you take his dick out, licking your lips as you stroke him, massaging his dick. you pepper kisses all over the tip, still keeping your eyes trained on him.

“c’mon don’t be a tease,” he whines as you focus on his tip, sliding your tongue around it as you continue to pump his dick with your hands. 

you take him into your mouth, its warm and wet as you suck him in. you move your hands to cup his balls with a firm grip, massaging them as you continue to twist your mouth on his dick. you can hear him lightly cursing, drying his best to moan out at the pleasure you’re giving him. but you were determined to get him to cry out your name.

he was loving the sight of you, mouth stuffed, slobbering all over him. you were sloppy, just how he liked it, using your saliva and his precum to glide your mouth over and over his dick.

“f-fuck,” he stammers, biting down on his fist, he usually last way longer than this. but the difference is you, he would’ve never had imagined that there’d be a day you’d be on your knees all pretty, swallowing his dick. but now that you are, he wanted to burst.

you could tell that he was close, so you jut your head faster, using your hands to pump what your mouth can’t cover. he thrust into your mouth, aiding you in reaching his climax, forcing his dick deeper into your inviting mouth.

“you’re mouths t-too good, it’s–” his hands rest on your head as he releases into your mouth. you swallow all of him, licking your lips, satisfied.

“now toru,” you coo, with a smirk standing up to face him, “can you see how much i love you now?”

the rest of the night was spent just like many others you had shared together over the years, wrapped in each other’s arms in the comfort of his bed. this time, however, it wasn’t masked under the guise of friendship, you now exchange kisses with ‘i love you’ said in between each one.

AN: and that is all folks, TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS I actually dislike the friends to lovers trope, not gojos biggest fan, and I hate sucking dick BUT I LOVE IT ALL HERE. HE'S ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY SWEET, AND DONT U JUST WANT A GUY THATS DOWN TO JUST LOVE YOU! DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE.

[papaya-twinks]

get over it! - l.n - p.2

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mental breakdown, breaking glass.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - sorry this took so long, I was doing all Lando’s birthday ones x

parts 🧡

Time Skip - Formula One Baku Grand Prix Pre-Race

Baku had always been a city of contrasts—historical yet modern, chaotic yet beautiful. And today, it felt like the perfect reflection of Lando's mood as he walked down the paddock, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, jaw clenched tight.

Since your little ‘incident’ with Lando at Qualifying, you’d made sure to steer well out of his way. You would rather not be blamed for his driving by Zak or Andrea anyhow. It did slightly piss off the mechanics on Lando’s side of the garage, however.

Your energy was something that helped a lot of them to keep going, and now you were steering clear of Lando’s while side of the garage. You hadn’t even noticed him sliding into Oscar’s garage, as you handed around drinks.

“Y/N,” he said, tapping you on the shoulder, your shoulders immediately raising defensively, your head turning away from, signalling your dislike in speaking to him. “Y/N," he pressed, this time with more urgency. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, still not looking at him. "I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” you said simply, handing some of Oscar’s mechanics some drinks. "You’re avoiding me," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can’t just walk away, not after what happened,” he said firmly.

“Yes I can, besides, why do you even care? It’s not like you to do so,” you said, placing your tray down, taking some new cups from the stack. “Some of my mechanics are pissed about you not being in the garage and stuff,” he mumbled, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, and they made you drag your ass here to ask?” you asked, a scoff on your lips as Lando rolled his eyes. “Sorry for asking you to do your own damn job,” he snapped, his voice filling with the frustration and bite from earlier.

“Let me do my fucking job, and stop talking to me, then,” you said, your voice with equally as much spite as you glared at him, his jaw set firm, eyes narrowed. You rolled your eyes, walking past him, your chin held high - so what if he was a driver? He didn’t own you!

You’d had many fights with Lando, countless, some of them about such minor things, you almost laughed when you looked back at them. Of course, there was a time, even after the Sochi incident, where maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could have forgiven you.

But then again, it was Lando Norris. He’d do anything just to fuck shit up.

Flashback - 2021 Mexican Grand Prix

It had started innocently enough - a late-night discussion about his diet. He had asked you to double-check his hydration formula before heading to the gym. You’d pointed out that it didn’t seem balanced, that he'd been skipping meals. He’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But that was just the start. 

“Why do you always act like you know better?��� he had snapped, voice low but cutting. “I’m the one racing out there. You’re just a helper,”. His words stung. You didn’t respond immediately, too shocked by the sudden shift in his tone. But when you did, your voice was tight with restraint.

“Just a helper?” you’d repeated, incredulous. “I’ve been working with you for years, Lando. Don’t act like I don’t know how to do my job,” you had said, your voice edged with a hint of shock and hurt. “You don’t work with me, Y/N, you’re not on my level, you won’t ever be on my level. You work for the team, at least get it right,”.

“You can’t just skip meals and expect your hydration to be perfect,” you had replied, a little more firmly. “Your body needs food to process all the fluids properly. If you’re running on empty, no amount of water is going to make a difference.”

“I’m fine,” Lando shot back immediately, his tone defensive. “I told you, I’m good. I just didn’t feel like eating. It’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice becoming more and more frustrated. Why couldn’t he understand what you were saying? And why did all your arguments have to be centred around water?

For a moment, it seemed like Lando was going to say something else, but instead, he crossed his arms, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “I don’t need a babysitter, Y/N. I’m not a child. I know how to do my job,” he had said, his eyes narrowed once more.

The words hit harder than they should have. You’d been working with him for quite a while, supporting him in every way you could, and this was the first time you felt like he didn’t appreciate it. “I never said you were,” you had said, your voice cold now, your patience worn thin.

“But when you start acting like a diva and skipping meals while I’m the one having to pick up the pieces, then yeah, maybe I do need to step in,” you said, your jaw set firmly and your eyes narrowed. Lando opened his mouth to retort, but you turned away before he could, your back to him as you grabbed your tablet from the table.

Your hands had been shaking with frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “I don’t have time for this right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I’ve got a hundred other things to do,” you moved to his door, only stopped by his voice.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you. After a long, charged silence, he finally spoke. “You think I’m just acting like a diva, huh?” he asked, his voice colder than you would have thought, sharp and almost like a snarl.

“Im not the one who fucking acts like I run the whole team off my own back - all you do is give water to people, Y/N, you’re useless!” he snapped, his voice raising as you flinched. “Useless? I’m not-,” you started, your own voice becoming louder.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You think, just coz a few people like you, that you’re the one managing this whole team? You don’t do shit, Y/N, you’re not important! People would be sad you left your day or two and forget about it, okay? You’d be replaced in an instant, you have no skill!”.

All of this. Over a water plan. “I…fuck you, Lando,” you said, your eyes brimming with tears, voice cracking as you stepped out the door, not even sparing him a glance as you rushed away from him,”

Present Time - Formula One Baku Grand Prix

Sure, you were pissed at Lando, but it really wasn’t fair to take it out on the whole team, do, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself to Lando’s side of the garage to hand out refreshments, much to the relief of the mechanics and engineers.

Just imagining if Sochi had never happened in 2021, or you’d never said the comment that you’d said, it would’ve been some different, and you would’ve been cheering and going crazy with the team, watching Lando climb higher and higher from his low position.

You could practically feel the tension radiating off of Lando’s car, the stress of a potential championship fight that could be washed away due to one bad qualifying session, or the struggles of getting through to at least a points playing position, everyone was on edge.

Lando had a lot of positions to make up if he wanted to salvage his weekend, or at least begin to try and gain some points. And boy, did he make up positions. One after another, he passed car after car, refusing to let the mistake of qualifying 16th define his race. He was determined to prove himself.

As the race wore on, Lando's mood lifted. Every overtake, every clean pass, brought him closer to his goal. He had no idea what position he was in now—he was just racing, just pushing harder than he ever had. When the final laps came, he found himself fighting for 4th. And when he crossed the line, there it was: 4th place.

But all you could do was bury it deep inside of you and push Lando out of your mind - sometimes there were times when you wished you could have screamed and cheered with the team, like in Miami. But you had Oscar’s current winning margin to distract you from the hurt in the pit of your belly.

Time Skip - Post Race - Baku

The mechanics jostled round the garage, all talking, but slowly leaving, exiting the garage as the sky darkened, a pale shade of greyish-blue, a colour you found quite beautiful actually. Like a reflection of the ocean, in some ways.

“Why are you still here?” a voice snapped you from your train of thought, ruining what was otherwise quite a peaceful movement, your gaze forced sway from the clouds. “None of your business,” you scoffed, picking up your drinks tray from the side as Lando stared.

“I mean, kinda is,” he replied, his nose scrunched distastefully, like you were something or someone lower than him, which was how he perceived you anyways. “Everyone else has gone home,” he pointed out.

“Cheers Captain Obvious,” you said sarcastically, the glasses tinkling on your tray, some with lines of red wine at the bottom, beams of white from the lights above reflecting off the glass. “Whatever,” Lando said, his voice nearly a mumble as he dug he is hands into his pockets.

“Look, I’d appreciate if you stayed the fuck out of my way,” Lando said sarcastically, “I can’t stand your stupid presence,” he snapped, “there’s nothing to fucking be so happy about, I can’t have you annoyingly positive energy around all the time,”.

“Excuse me?” you said, not quite sure what to say after that little outburst of his came from. “You heard me, you’re stupidly positive and all you do is frolic around with that stupid little tray of yours,” Lando snapped, pushing the tray out of your hand, the plate clattering onto the floor, the glasses shattering at your feet.

“Lando, what the fuck is your issue?!” you half-screamed, scrambling away from the shards of glass scattered on the floor, cutting at the soles of your sneakers. “Just….fuck off, okay?!” he said, his curls a messy heap on his head, his eyes wild.

He looked on the verge of a full breakdown as you stared, in shock at the whole thing. He’d been fine a few seconds ago, what the hell had happened? “Lando, I didn’t-,” you started, raising your hands almost in surrender.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, Y/N!” he covered his ears, “Just fuck off!”. You said nothing, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stumbled back, away from the glassy heap on the floor, and rushing away from the garage. You’d never seen Lando break down before.

Was he…Was he okay?

[mswritergirl02]

38 Missed calls and Tequila

In which Harry and y/n fight causing her to storm out

-> Reader advisory: mentions of alcohol and explicit language, proceed with caution.

A/N : Taking requests (:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N paced back and forth in the living room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I can’t believe you, Harry! You always do this, you never listen to me!”

Harry’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what about you, huh? Do you think you’re always right? You’re so damn stubborn!”

“Well, maybe if you cared about my opinion for once—”

“Care about your opinion? I bend over backwards for you, Y/N! But it’s never enough, is it? You always find something else to complain about!”

“Oh, so now this is all my fault, is it? Typical!”

Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “For fucks sake I never said that!

Y/N’s voice trembled with anger and hurt as she launched her accusation.

“You know what, Harry? I bet you’re cheating on me, aren’t you? That’s why you’re always so secretive about your phone, always disappearing at odd hours!”

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious, Y/N? I’ve told you a million times, that I’m not cheating on you! You’re just making things up because you can’t stand losing a fucking argument!”

Y/N’s voice rose at his accusation. “Oh, please! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this! I see the way you look at other girls, Harry! You can’t fool me!”

Harry’s patience snapped, his frustration evident in his tone. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up again! You’re always jumping to conclusions, always looking for a bloody reason to doubt me! Maybe it’s your own insecurities that are driving us apart!”

Y/N’s anger faltered, replaced by a pang of hurt. “I’m not insecure, Harry! I just want to know that I can trust you!”

“Well, maybe if you gave me a chance to prove it instead of constantly accusing me of things I didn’t do!”

“I’ve been nothing but loyal to your crazy ass for four fucking years,” Harry declared, his voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

The tension in the room was thick, each word a painful reminder of the growing rift between them. Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of their words, knowing deep down that her accusations were absurd, Harry loved her. Still she was unable to stop herself from lashing out in a desperate attempt to regain control of the argument.

Y/N's lips curled into a sneer as she spat out, "Go fuck yourself, Harry!"

With that, she snatched her keys off the coffee table and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Harry stared at the closed door, his chest tight with frustration. "You're fucking crazy," he yelled, knowing she couldn't hear him and was long gone. He cursed out loud and sank onto the couch, running his hand over his face.

“A bloody fucking carpet," he muttered to himself, the absurdity of their argument hitting him like a ton of bricks. They had been fighting over a bloody carpet, of all things. It was ridiculous, and yet somehow it had escalated to Y/N storming out in anger.

They hadn't been in the best place lately. Y/N was constantly stressed out at the office, working long hours, barely having time for herself, let alone for him. And Harry, always buried in his work, was rarely home to see her, too caught up in his next album to notice the distance growing between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12am

38 outgoing calls

Harry’s nerves were on edge. He had called Y/N 38 times since she stormed out, each call going straight to voicemail. It wasn’t like her to stay out this late, and the thought of not knowing where she was made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Pacing back and forth in their empty apartment, Harry’s mind raced with worry. He had grown accustomed to Y/N’s silent treatments during their arguments, but this was different. This silence felt suffocating.

12:30 am

“Answer your phone, Y/N,” Harry muttered under his breath, frustration and fear mingling in his voice. He reached for his phone once again, fingers trembling as he clicked on her contact for the 39th time. But this time, instead of the familiar voicemail greeting, a stranger’s voice answered Y/N’s phone.

As Harry heard the unfamiliar male voice answer Y/N’s phone, his heart raced with a surge of protectiveness. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his tone sharp with urgency. “Why the hell do you have Y/N’s phone? Where is she?”

Before Harry could ask any more questions or receive a response, the phone call ended abruptly.

12:45am

It was around 12:45am when It clicked in Harry’s mind, Y/N had insisted they shared their locations when they first started dating. Harry quickly opened the app on his phone and zoomed in on her location.

Maggies Bar & Grill.

Confusion washed over him when he saw that Y/N was at a bar. Drinking was something she rarely did, especially alone at this hour. Harry’s heart raced with worry, imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys, and got behind the wheel. He knew he had to reach Y/N as fast as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Y/N found herself in fits of laughter, seated on a bar stool behind the counter of Maggies. With tears of joy rolling down her cheeks, she swiftly grabbed her phone back from the male bartender’s grasp. Giggling, she teasingly whispered, “Don’t tell Harry,” and playfully pressed a finger to her lips.

Earlier, Y/N had confided in the sympathetic bartender about her rocky relationship with Harry. Each heartfelt confession she made was chased down with another shot of tequila, the weight of the world was momentarily lifted by the warmth of the alcohol. What she didn't know was that the bartender discreetly slipped her keys into his pocket when her attention wandered, silently determined to prevent her from making any rash decisions in her inebriated state.

“Y/N, I’m cutting you off,” the bartender said for what felt like the tenth time that night, his tone gentle yet firm. “All you’re getting is water from now on.”

Y/N pouted, shoving the glass of water away. “But I’m having fun!” she protested, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol. “I can handle a few more drinks, I promise.”

The bartender shook his head, a hint of concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t risk serving you any more alcohol. It’s for your own safety.” With that, he gently pushed the glass of water back towards her, silently urging her to hydrate and sober up.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Y/N slurred, her tone growing more aggressive as she leaned in towards the bartender, her eyes narrowed.

The bartender stood his ground, not going back on his decision. “I’m not serving you any more drinks tonight,” he stated once again.

Y/N’s frustration bubbled over, and she clenched her fists slamming them on the counter. “You can’t cut me off!” she snapped.

Just as Y/N opened her mouth to make a scene once more , Harry entered the bar, his eyes immediately locking onto her. With purpose in his stride, he made his way over to where she sat, his gaze briefly flickering to the bartender.

Harry’s expression was a mix of relief and concern as he approached. “Is everything okay here?” he asked.

The bartender met Harry’s gaze, his expression serious. “Harry I'm assuming? Yeah, everything’s fine now,” he replied, gesturing towards Y/N. “I had to cut her off a while ago. She’s had enough for tonight.” Recognizing Harry by Y/n's lock screen on her phone and his contact name.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But then who called me from her phone?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for answers.

The bartender hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out Y/N’s keys. “It was me,” he admitted, handing them over to Harry. “I knew she shouldn’t be driving in her condition.”

Relief flooded Harry’s features as he accepted the keys. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, grateful for the bartender’s quick thinking.

Y/N’s drunken aggression flared as Harry turned towards her. “What are you doing here?” she slurred, her tone sharp with irritation.

“I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Of course she's drinking tequila the one thing that brings out her temper even more

Harry cut her off with a stern glare, “Your breath reeks of fucking tequila and you’re in no condition to drive,”.

Y/N turned towards the bartender, “You're a fucking snitch” she accused him loudly causing heads to turn in their direction. Harry’s annoyance grew as he watched her escalate the situation.

“Y/N, you’re causing a fucking scene,” Harry muttered, frustrated to which she scoffed, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.

She held out her hand. “Give them back. I’m driving myself home, I don’t want to look at you.”

Harry’s heart sank at her words, but he knew he couldn’t let her make such a reckless decision. “I can’t do that, Y/N,” he said gently, stepping closer to her. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. Let me take you home.”

Y/N shook her head stubbornly, her anger fueling her determination. “No!” she insisted, her voice rising.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Just give me my keys!”

He was over her drunk antics.

Stepping uncomfortably close to her, he took the time to observe the way her hair fell over her ear. With a firm yet gentle touch, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering for a moment before trailing down her cheek.

Leaning in, Harry's voice dropped to a low and dangerous tone. “Y/N you better listen to me.”

“Drop the fucking attitude,” he snapped his breath sending a shiver down her spine as it brushed against her skin.

Now fully gaining her attention Harry continued speaking. “You're gonna lower your voice and follow me to the car like the good girl I know you are."

Y/n began to feel as if her legs were putty with each word she processed.

“Don't make me embarrass you here love,” he said while running his finger over her bottom lip.

“Because I can and I will.”

Harry's words hung in the air, commanding and unwavering leaving no room for argument.

Masterlist

Lights Out

[moonstruckme]

Hiya Mae!! How are you?? It’s been a little bit but I was hoping I could request a poly!marauders fic (+plus Lily if you’re comfortable with doing that if not it’s fine). This week is the 6th anniversary of my brothers passing and this year is a bit harder as I’m turning 18. Having such a milestone coming up and him not being here is sorta making me sick. I was wondering if maybe you could base the fic off of that? Or something to do with grief and them helping reader out. I’ve found great comfort in the abundance of love you portray with their relationship and I could do with a lil of it.

If not it’s totally fine don’t feel obligated. Hope you have a good week!!

Hi sweetheart, sorry I couldn't get this to you during the week you requested it. I was also dealing with a bit of grief at the time and it felt too raw to try for a while. I hope you're doing well and that you really enjoy being 18, even if those feelings are complicated by your loss <33

cw: mentions of death, grief

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 622 words

The sky is turning from deep blue to black outside when Sirus notices you’ve slipped into a melancholy. 

The only hint of it is in your tone. You’ve been quipping about the film you’re all watching like you always do, bouncing off his and James’ comments and Remus’ amused grunts, but there’s a falsity to the cheer in your voice. This is something you and James have in common; when Sirius or Remus are upset it permeates the area around them like a thick fog, but the two of you have a way of keeping it contained within yourselves, putting on counterfeit smiles. Sirius often wonders if it doesn’t hurt you more. 

He leans away from where he’s been resting his head on Remus’ pectoral, snaking an arm around your shoulders. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” he asks quietly. 

You shrug. Swallow. “Just thinking about them,” you murmur in reply. 

Sirius suspects this isn’t the full story, but he, too, knows the necessity of papering over certain pains. He doesn’t pry. 

Before the war—before Regulus—Sirius used to think that grief was the pain that came from the love you had for the lost person being ripped away from you. But even months after his brother’s death, all the love is still there. It’s amplified, if anything, every ounce of it demanding attention now that he can no longer take it for granted even a little bit. 

What went was the ritual of it all. The peculiar brand of happiness he’d felt around Reg, never easy but still there, buried beneath layers of troubled history and shared broodiness. The inside jokes they’d barely realized they had, things no one who wasn’t raised in their house would see the humor in. The surety that if they fought, they’d get a chance to make up. Sirius will never have those things with his brother again. In memories, maybe, but now they’ll always be tinged with the love so big it hurts. 

He wishes desperately he could keep you from hurting like that. 

He shuffles closer, awkwardly wrapping his other arm around you until he’s nearly covering your body with his. It’s like he thinks he can shield you, like he can protect you from grief after he’d failed to protect you from loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says. 

You shake your head, turning so it’s jammed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Your face feels hot. “I don’t know what to do,” you choke out. 

Sirius squeezes you tighter. He gets it, but he doesn’t. He knows how it feels to grieve, but not how to grieve your person in your way. It’s an ache he can only approximate. 

“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds pained, and he gets up from Remus’ other side, rounding the couch to climb onto the armrest beside you. He rubs your back with one hand, the other coming to rest on Sirius shoulder, a comfort in case he needs it. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, my love.” 

Sirius feels a hot tear slip down his neck into his shirt, and James winces as your shoulders hitch under his touch. Remus makes a soft pitying sound. 

“You’re alright.” He latches onto the last unclaimed part of you, rough hand soothing up your calf. “You’re okay.” 

“Sorry,” you manage, and Sirius squishes you punishingly in his arms, pressing a staunch kiss to the side of your head. 

“Don’t be silly,” he tells you. James makes a half-choked sound of agreement. “No sorries, okay?” 

You nod, the bump of your nose moving against Sirius’ neck. He gives you another kiss to show his approval. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Remus says again. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got you.” 

[ghosts-to-reid]

A Tragedy for The Bard

Request: In which the reader is Spencer Reid's best friend for two years since he joined the BAU. The reader saw Spencer loving JJ, Lila and now a mysterious girl on the phone "Maeve" when one day Spencer introduces her to the team, they are all happy for him, the reader was very sad but wants Spencer to be happy with Maeve @shuichiakainx

A/N: I kinda changed the timeline of the friendship and the request a lil but i hope you enjoy still! Accidentally went off and wrote an entire novel so i hope you enjoy!

TW: Maeve arc spoilers, violence, suicide, stalking, bodily harm

ANGSTY

SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN!

Spencer Reid has been your best friend since you joined the FBI’s renowned BAU. He was sweet and kind, always attentive to your emotions, and showing he cared. He’d bring you coffee every morning, sit with you at lunch, and then, more often, than not, hang out with you through evenings; You never had set plans together, but the impromptu nature of your friendship is what made it exciting. After all, he was your best friend, things should be this easy with him.

Of course, having a crush on your best friend isn’t completely bizarre. The brain can get confused with chemicals and all, the attraction you have to Spencer is simply a bug in your brain that’ll balance out eventually…

That’s what you told yourself when you saw the pictures of Spencer and Lila in the pool. This was when you were both still fairly new, when he was a merely 23 and you were 25. Of course, he was already far more qualified than you were, and when you met, the fact you’d skipped 2 grades didn’t seem so impressive anymore… yet you couldn’t hold a grudge. The pair of you worked together amazingly, Derek and Elle often poked fun at you both when they over heard, quote “nerdy-ass nonsense” (Eloquently said, Agent Morgan) but you cherished those moments. Those moments were what made you fall for his mind first and foremost, the discussions, massively unorthodox hypotheticals, spirited debates, it was all so easy with him. Of course, you’d acknowledge that he’s attractive, very much so you thought. But you were co workers, so the tinge of jealousy you felt whenever Spencer and Lila interacted just had to be ignored.

The thing that stung the most was Spencer’s eagerness go to talk to you about their kiss.

The team had just wrapped up the Lila Archer case. You were all exhausted, of course, but you maybe more so than the rest of the team. Sitting alone with your head resting atop your fist, staring into space whilst the rest of the team settled into their seats. You barely notice Spencer sitting in the single seat across from you, speaking your name softly to get your attention. Eventually you notice, lifting your head, slowly blinking at him

“Hm?”

“I was just wondering if… if you had a chance to look through the case file yet…” his voice held a nervous edge as he fiddled with his cuffs. He was wondering if you saw him and Lila, making out, in a pool. You sure as hell had and you were desperately trying to hide your seething jealousy that you weren’t the one in that pool with him. However, you feigned negligence.

“No.” Shaking your head lightly, voice soft, you were emphasising your fatigue in an attempt to keep this interaction short “I’ve not had the time yet.”

He seemed slightly relieved, his shoulders were still tense as he leaned back in his seat, though. He seemed to be looking for an invitation to continue, but you weren’t going to give it to him yet.

“She kissed me…” he muttered quietly, his fingers seemingly becoming fascinating to him. The breath caught in your lungs for a second before you pulled your lips into a tight, albeit forced, smile.

“That’s great Spencer. I’m happy for you.” You speak softly and slowly, trying to convince both him and yourself that your statement was truth. He seemed convinced by the small smile on his face, a blush to his cheek. He opened his mouth to continue but you were interrupted by Gideon’s voice

“Y/N! Come over here a second.” Was all he said. Spencer looked at you confused, and you gave him a puzzled look back. Unsure of what Gideon wanted, you stood silently and made your way over to where he sat with Hotch. You slid in across from them, Gideon was reading the paper whilst Hotch had a pen in his hand, silently writing. Confusion was still lingering as you sat there for a moment before you saw the small smile on Hotchs face, and Gideon caught your eye, giving you a small wink befor returning to his paper. Unsure how to feel at the seemingly all knowing nature of the pair, who had assessed you needed an out, you rested back into your original position, head leaning against the window and you closed your eyes. Trying to ignore the sting in your chest as you try to sleep, ignoring the lingering image of the two that had somehow burned itself at the back of your eyelids.

Though still painful, your young heart broken by a simple kiss, it was of course nothing compared to the heart break that came 2 years later. The friendship that had started as close work companions had turned into you becoming best friends, to the pair of you being nearly inseparable. At this point, you were the dream team, you had learnt to shoulder your crush on the boy wonder. Of course, the teasing was still there, you were after all very close, but it didn’t make you flush the same rose as it had before. The same can be said for Spencer, who now just huffed at Dereks implications. Of course, people on the team were aware of your crush on Spencer, they were profilers. Yet they kept it to themselves, with the obvious exception of Derek.

It was a typical Saturday night for you and Spencer, as typical as possible when you’re not away on a case anyway. Both of you were sat on his couch, legs touching, your skin felt like it was on fire at the points where you both meet, yet you had long since learnt to ignore the warm feeling you felt at moments like these. It was late, really you should’ve gone home hours ago, Saturday had become Sunday hours ago, but the two of you had been caught up in conversation, a common occurrence between the two of you. Tonight, though, had been a night of deep conversations, psychological exploration of each others memories. The topic of crushes had come up, Spencer had opened up to you about what had happened to him in Highschool, and you comforted him. Then, you shared a story about how your diary was stolen, and the pages of embarrassing love poetry were printed and posted around your school. His way of comfort is to tell you how he’d think it was romantic, before rambling about the Shelley’s and Byron.

“Do you have a crush right now?” You asked sleepily, you were sleepily hopeful of a love confession but you weren’t counting on it. Spencer only saw you as a friend after all.

Spencer leans back on the couch, looking back up to you with half lidded eyes. He takes a moment to read your face, to look for any kind of malice or mischief, and when finding none, pulls his lips to a tight line.

“Kind of… I love someone.” Was all he said. It was clear that the sleep deprivation was acting like a truth serum on you both, and making you both bolder. Maybe not for the better…

You’d perked up slightly when he’d said the word ‘love’, hoping again, silently it was you. That, he’s finally, after 4 years of pining in your friendship, that he’d realised his feelings for you. You promoted him to continue, hoping for him to speak your name.

“JJ…” he was breathless

Again, that twisting pain hit you like a train. Your chest aches and your eyes suddenly felt very itchy. Spencer continues, as if he doesn’t need another print after seeing you enthusiasm.

“She’s just, so kind yanno? And I know that you’re probably thinking she’s too pretty or nice for me but, I don’t plan to act on it. I don’t want to destroy our friendship over this, but I've loved her for a while now. I love her laugh, her eyes. She’s so kind to everyone, you know?” He continues to ramble for a few minutes whilst you sit still, focusing most of your energy on not crying right now. Instead, the strength to interject conjures itself.

“That’s great Spencer. I’m happy you know how it feels to love someone, even under painful circumstances. Believe me, I know how you feel, I’ve been there.” You have his knee a reassuring squeeze before sluggishly attempting to stand, but Spencer grabs your wrist softly.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s late, Spencer… I need to go home.” Glancing at the clock, it read 5:07, the sun would be rising soon and you’d love nothing else but to cry in your own bed and sleep the Sunday away. He pulls you down to the couch once more before shifting to sit and face you.

“You don’t have to go, you can stay here tonight… I mean this morning…?” He looks at you with a tender gaze that makes your heart ache after his confession not even two moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d stay in his bed whilst he took the couch, an arrangement he absolutely insisted on, and you held little resistance to. Your main self control impulse was being kept in check from asking him to join you. If you hadn’t felt on the brink of breaking down in sobs, you wouldn’t have even thought about it. But tonight, you learned that not only Spencer’s love was unrequited, it was also no where near directed to you. Reality checks hurt, and are dealt with best in bed, in the dark. Therefore, the shake of your head takes him off guard as you silently move to put on your shoes. Spencer follows behind you

“I can’t stay tonight sorry Spencer, I said I’d take my grandma to church-“ a blantant lie, she lived in Texas. You hoped he didn’t know that. He shook his head though.

“I don’t want you to get a taxi at this time, why don’t you stay here and I’ll drive you tommorow?” He’s worried of course and you sigh. Shaking your head once more, why was he so caring? He was now rambling statistics about kidnappings and murders of women at this time of day, knowing his relentless efforts weren’t in vain as you were weak to his efforts. You gave into him.

“Fine! Fine…” you take a deep breath and rub your eyes, hoping he’s interpreting how red they are as sleep depravation, rather than the effort holding back a flood of tears. “I’ll just cancel tomorrow...” you lie again, quickly moving to his bedroom door, him in tow, not giving him the opportunity to reply as you flop onto the bed facing away from spencer. He watched you with a furrowed brow, but follows the regular routine you had both settled into when you stay. He grabs a pillow and a blanket, and presses a small kiss to your forehead before grabbed his book off of his nightstand. However, already heartbroken enough, you can’t handle that ‘friendly’ forehead kiss and so you purposely pulled the duvet over your head. However, it didn’t stop him from pressing a small kiss to the duvet, you could feel the bed dip where he leaned on the matress, of course he wouldn’t care about a stupid duvet.

10 minutes is how long you wait before you finally let out a quiet sob. Luckily, they’re mostly hushed by the thick duvet that’s still wrapped around your head, and you bring your hand up to muffle the rest of the sound as you cry over Spencer Reid. The smell of coffee and patchouli is thick on his duvet, a normal comfort contorted into a terror that spurs another soft cry. You stay like that until you fall asleep, where you end up sleeping till 3 pm.

You awake to a sandwich on the side table, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. Spencer left a note reading “JJ asked if I’d help her with something, be back before 4.” Ignoring the sandwich, you made as quick of an exit as you could. Unaware of the tears stains you had left in Reid’s pillow….

Of course, you eventually healed from that. Neither relationship had ever come to fruition after all. That is why now, after how ever many years of friendship, you were going to be bold. You were going to tell him how you really felt. In a moment of sentimentality, had bought a collection of various romantic era poetry, and wrote your own little addition asking him on a date, as a call back to that intimate night, and with hope to rewrite that memory for yourself. Nothing could go wrong, you and Spencer had be great, as great as you could be whilst dealing with psycho killers.

Arriving at the office, you had no time to drop the book off onto his desk. Hotch called the team into the conference room with a morose look, that made your face pale.

There, Spencer stood in front of the team, looking disheveled and sleep deprived was the last crack in the dam of emotion for you. He looked so small, so fragile. Not meeting anyone’s eye, speaking like he’s in a trance. He’s asking for the teams help.

Help to find his kidnapped girlfriend.

You could’ve been sick right then and there, and you actually almost were. The speed your stomach dropped at this new reveltaion was enough to make you excuse yourself, hand over your mnouth, face pale. Unsure if it was due to the shock, the heartbreak, the anxiety, or maybe a mix of all there, you excuse yourself from the room. Your heart aches that you left so suddenly, but you couldn’t help this obviously. The run to the ladies room was quick, as you burst into a stall. Vomiting was never elegant, and the same was so in work. After a few moments you cleaned the corners of your mouth with a tissue before leaning back and grabbing your phone from your pocket. A text from Emily on your screen

“You okay?”

Nope. I was going to confess my love in a very embarrassing way and admit that Reid admitting he had a girlfriend made you literally, throw up from... A shitstorm of emotions. Drafting a quick excuse, you send her a message back. Within a second of your message, another agent from a desk nearby had seen you running to the bathroom, and brought you your bag as an act of kindness. She thought you might not feel well and would want something and was gone as quickly as she arrived, wishing you well. Thankful for her kindness, you quickly cleaned yourself up before grabbing your phone once more.

You love Spencer. So, so much. So much that you can't, in good conscience, work this case without fear of conflict of intrest. But not wanting to share this, you decide that food poisioniong was a better excuse and head home, apologising to the team over text, and wishing them good luck. Of course, the team were pre occupied with finding Maeve, Garcia filled you in, so there wasn't much resistence to your absence.

The speed that events transpired, however, made you relieved that you hadn't dropped the book off on spencers desk this morning.

A few hours pass after the incident, you were sitting at home watching some mind numbing reality T V Show, trying to numb the heartbreak that ached within your core. You were a few seconds away from dissasociating when there was a knock to the door. Debating the practicality of ignoring it, you decide not to thinking that it was perhaps a member of the team. You were wrong however, when you open the door to a small brunette.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, I broke down outside and i was just wondering if I could use your phone to call roadside assitance? My phone literally just died!" She looked exhasberated, and exhausted. Taking pityyou nod and let her inside

"Sure, let me just grab it for you. You can wait in here." Turning your back on, you went to grab your phone from the sofa you had just been curled up on. Before you could take two steps, you felt a heavy weight at the back of your head.

Momentairly your vision turned black. Trying to regain your footing, you spin the meet the girl who was now holding the metalic decrative bowl that you palced your keys into. Before you could form another thought, she hit you once more. Finally knocking you out.

By the time you came to, you couldn't help but feel the hard pounding radiating through your skull. Your vision was blurry, only slightly making out some figures in front of you. One of your eyes couldn't open all the way either, as if stuck shut. Memory of your attack came back in bits, but you were unable to focus though. Definetly concussed to some degree. Slowly, you attempted to move your hand to your eye, only to discover that you were tied tightly to a chair.

After a few moments of your semi concious state, you could make out the voice of a woman in front of you.

"Y/N... Y/N wake up... Y/N?" A soft voice ushered you slowly out of you daze, and finally you focused on the woman. She was also tied up. She was brunette, with soft features that matched her voice. Weakly you aknowledged her

"Where... Where are we?"

"I... I dont know... But help is coming. I know that." You looked at her for a moment, trying to recognise her.

"How do you know my name?" Theres a resistance to your voice, though weak.

"Spencer's told me about you." She smiled, your stomach dropped.

"You're... You're Maeve?" Nodding in response, she began to speak before beiung cut off by the sudden apperance of the small brunette. She slamed the door shut before she entered. She began to bark demands, you learnt her name was Diane. She berated you about your feelings for spencer, teasing you and Maeve. Succesfully breaking your heart more.

Then, a buzzer sounded.

"Oh. Here he is now." Diane barked orders through the phone and slowly, Spencer came into view. Breath catching in your chest, you were unable to look at him, knowing he wasn't here for you. His arms up as Diane pointed her gun at him

"Im here now. We made a deal." His voice was broken. "Let them go."

"I will. But first i need you all to hear something." She reached to the table behind her, and procured a book. The very same book you had intended to give to Spencer just this morning.

"No. No that's nothing please-" You plead despertly, trying to convince the woman to have any modicum of mercy. Spencer glanced at you softly. Your beggign was interupted by Diane opening the books dedication page, that you had written a poem on

"The smell of coffee, and your furrowed brow, An instant smile that inspire, How could i ever hide my longing desire To place a kiss to that brow To fill your cup, and hold thy hand

Lounging and talking, for you do not know How dearly my love is rooted In your voice, your home, from my heart to yours Through danger, i'd die through strife i'll hold Through it all i shall hold thy hand

I'll read to you, if you'll read to me To be in your heart is a future i'd like to see So Spencer I ask, May I be yours, as you have been mine?" Diane recited. At this point, you were sobbing silently, unable to meet the gazee of anyone. Diane had a diabolical smile on her face as she teased all of you, feeling satisfied that you had been humiliated, she turned her attention to Maeve. Focusing your attention to dampen your sobs was your prioty right now. After all, Maeve wasn't the only girl here in danger.

In truth, you were foucinsing on anything other than Spencer's outpouring of love for Maeve.

Your attention was finally caught again when Diane grabbed Maeve, holding a gun to her head. Spencer pleaded for her life.

"Take me instead" He pleaded. Setting Diane off once more, in fury, holding the gun to both her and Maeves head.

You didn't expect ehr to pull the trigger.

You scremaed and tried to wiggle your way free from your constraints as the team rushed in. Spencer dropped to his knees, watching as the blood of both women combined, and slowly crept across the wooden floor. The team were in shock for a moment, before someone untied you. Quickly wisking you to an ambulance ready outside.

There were no words for the cocktail of emotions you felt. Apparently, according to Emily, Diane had decided to target you after discovering your closeness to Reid. She wanted to leave as much wreckage in her wake as possible. The team had been alerted to your dissapearance when Penelope had called you 34 times and you hadn't answered. She hacked into your doorbell camera and discovered the footage of Diane taking you, where Derek and Emily had discovered the struggle between you.

You had been assigned mandatory leave of 2 months and was thankful for the break.

A month and a half goes by wihtout a word from Spencer. Of course, you weren't surprised. After what had happened, you knew he would seclude himself. Normally, you'd would be there for him. But not now. It was imposssible for you with both the trauma of that night, and also the humiliation that your love confession was read by a psychopath who moments later, murdered his girlfriend.

You werent sure you'd ever be able to face him again.

Of course, heartbreak and trauma are never a good combonation. You had been neglecting yourself slightly, so dragging yourself to the shower felt like much more of a chore. Without dwelling on the past, the tried your best to focus on the song playing whilst you scrubbed your scalp, taking your agression out that way. When you eventually emerged from the bathroom, you put on a fresh set of pyjamas and made your way to the living room. Before you could sit, there was alight tapping on the door.

Since the incident, you were wary of unexpected visitors. Spencer would interject with a fact about PTSD and try to calm you down, but you try to shake off the thought. Instead, you do whatyou shouldve done that day, and open the phones app to look throguh the camera. There stood Spencer. Thinner, languid and visibly exhausted. A pang hit in your chest before you debated answering. Giving in though, chest hurting more at the thought of him ebing alone right now in this state.

Gingerly, you unlock the various locks you had had installed, and open the door slightly, only peeking your head out of the small gap.

"Spencer?" He looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours. His eyes were dull and red from the amount of tears you were sure he ahd shed.

"Can i come in?" His voice was weaker than youd imagined, but you stepped to the side. Once more pushing aside any of your own feelings inf avour of his, as usual.

He made his way to his usual spot on the couch, you sit on the further end, unsure where you stood with him anymore. As you sat, his eyes met yours in confusion, usually youd be sat right next to him. "Are you okay?" It seemd a silly question from him, given the current situation. All you did was nod silently in response, pulling your knees to your chin. There was a few moments of silence before Spencer toutched your arm, making you look over to meet his pleading gaze.

"Im sorry..." Was all he said. Without realising, you let out the tears you had been holding, you shook off his hand so that you coulkd wipe your eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." You didn't want to have this conversation. "You didn't know."

"But-"

"You didn't know. And it doesn't matter." Your voice was more forceful than intended. This isn't a discussion you wanted to have. Not now. Not after Maeve, you weren't an emotional rebound. You weren't going to fill the void of Maeve in his heart.

"You're my friend. I was being innaprpiate im sorry. It was silly."

Spencer has a pensive look on his face, his brow furrowed but lip wobbling in an attempt to surpess your rejection.

"Y/N no, no we aren't avoiding this..." He spoke tearfully "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because there was always someone else!" You surprised yourself at your outburst. Clamping a shocked hand on your mouth you tried to hold back a loud sob. Spencer was stunned

"Someone... else?" He was confused, obviously. He never considered himself an avid dater, and you only knew about maeve fr a day before...

Plucking up any modicum of courage you had, you took a deep breath.

"Lila Archer. JJ. And..." You didn't want to speak her name, but the absence didn't dull the obvious pang to spencers heart.

"But. But they were years apart... I dont understand?"

"It takes courage spencer... And when that courage is destroyed, it takes time to build up once more..." Staring at a spot on the rug, you began absent mindendly picking at your nails, a habit you had when anxious.

Spencer noticed this and grabbed your hands to stop you. A gesture that would have comfoted you before, but now makes you jump. He holds them tightly between his and pulls you to face him.

His eyes were still pfilled with despair for Maeve but, he looked at you so, so softly. So gently that you felt your heart flutter like it did only 2 months ago.

"I wish you told me..." His voice broke, tears spilling from eyes slowly. Reanimating your own tears you begin to shake your head, pulling your hands from his and standing, walking away from him.

"No spencer... No not now... We can't." You sob. folding your arms, avoiding his stare.

He stands and rushes to your side grabbing your shoulders, making you meet his gaze once more.

"Why?" he begs "Why can't we?" His voice is broken once more "I love you, please. I love you too!"

Breaking from his hold you walk away from him once more, towards your front door.

"It isn't right Spencer..." You mutter softly "Not by you, or me... Or Maeve..." Reaching for the door handle, you take another shakey breath before pulling your front door open. "I think it's best you leave."

Spencer is silent, pleading with you to change your mind. He doesn't say a word though, simply wipes his eyes before silently walking through your door. Giving you one last despearte look before you force yourself to close the door behind him.

The rest of your leave was spent heartbroken, sobbing alone in your bed.

[daryltwdixon]

Kinktober #2 Oral Fixation

as per usual, MDNI

summary: you're on guard duty with Daryl, and he's chewing his fucking fingernails again. fluffy!!! no smut for my 11% who prefer it that way :) short n sweet

The amount of times you’d look over and see Daryl Dixon chewing the skin of his nails was going to drive you insane.

The one night while you both were on watch in the guard tower you’d had enough. Partially because it was a bad habit of his you always caught him doing, but also partially because you wished…. You wished you could replace it with something else. Your tongue, lips, hell, you’d let him chew your finger if he asked nice enough. But Daryl felt like an enigma, impossible to read but so damn mesmerizing. You were almost certain he never noticed you, as usually you were with Maggie and Glenn since you’d joined their group. Glenn had become sort of your big brother in all of this when he found you starving and hurt on a run, hiding in an old pharmacy from the walkers outside. Maggie of course was l naturally the big sister counterpart. The one time you confessed to Maggie your curiosity about Daryl she couldn’t help but laugh and say “good luck with that one,” 

He was always so hard to read, so aloof, but you noticed his small smiles more and more lately as life settled into the prison and when you’d sneak glances at him, his eyes would also be on you. 

So that night, on watch up on the tallest guard tower you caught him with his thumb up to his mouth again, chewing the side of it like it owed him money. He eyes were intensely on the tree line as he mindlessly had his skin between his teeth.

“You’re gunna chew your fingers clean off one of these days,” you teased, your head leaning back on the outside wall of the tower. The railing was at your eye-line as you slouched against the cement wall. You looked over to him with a playful smile and he barely looked at you, not bothering to drop his hand. He just grunted and continued to look out at the tree line below you. 

“You know,” you gathered your courage before going on, making sure to keep your eyes strictly out on the fences, “there are better things to put in your mouth than just your hand,” 

That sure got his attention. He looked over to you, pausing his incessant chewing, his eyebrow raised.

“You offerin’ any suggestions?” His blue eyes narrowed at you behind his dark curtains of bangs. 

You shrugged, still refusing to look over or else he might’ve seen the pink tinge to your cheeks even in the moonlight, “Maybe,” you said, “if you’re any good,” you bite your lip nervously, finally glanced over at him, doing a double take as you noticed his eyes looked at you with a different kind of intensity you’ve never seen on him. 

His eyes flickered down to your lips briefly, but just long enough that you caught it. You wondered how far you could push him until that rough exterior broke down. He lowered his hand from his face, his gaze turning predatory. 

“Good at what, exactly?” He seemed to want to push you back. Challenging you to break first. Or maybe he really was clueless. But you don’t let up, just shrugging and watching him with a smile, grateful he was playing along, “I have a couple ideas,” 

Your bravery only came from the fact he wasn’t brushing you off. He didn’t grunt at you in reply, he didn’t break eye contact. The air was starting to become charged, the watch tower feeling smaller and smaller around you. 

“You talk a lotta shit, you know that?” He grumbled, “all bark no bite,” 

He may have meant it as a dig but his words held no weight, like he was trying hard to not fall into the trap you were laying out for him. You chuckled and looked off then, breaking the eye contact that you held for so long. But as your eyes met the tree line, a hand blocked your vision, grabbing your face roughly. You gasped as it turned you toward him, his other hand resting on the other side of your face closest to the wall. Before you have a chance to gather your thoughts, his lips crashed against yours, sparks electrocuting where he melded into you. For all his rough exterior—the calloused hands, dirt smudged face— his lips were incredibly soft. 

They moved along yours with a hunger, his tongue darting out to part your lips, which you happily obliged. Your tongues glided along each other, moving between teasing and needy. When his thumb rubbed your temple you felt your head spin and you brought your hands to his front, fisting his shirt to bring him into you even more. You couldn’t get him close enough. You felt enveloped in his musk—the smell of cigarettes and sweat making you dizzy. Everything else in the world around you seemed to still, the crickets and buzzing of insects quieted and the world paused its turning as you embraced each other. 

He pulled back then, both of you breathless. He held your face inches from his, his eyelashes tickling your face as he spoke. 

“How’s that for any good?” he said, so softly that his lips brushed over yours and you could feel his breath against you.

You breathed a small laugh into him and he dove for your lips again. 

[princessbrunette]

peeked at your second acc n stepbro!jj is so the type that you two are watchin a movie while your parents are out of town n he starts rubbin your pussy through your little panties cos he's just 'admiring' - 🍓

‧₊˚ 🐚 ✩ ₊˚ 👙 ⊹ 𓇼

you loved quiet moments with your step-brother, domestic bliss as you pretend the house belongs to just the two of you— parents away for the weekend.

you lean against his warmth on the couch, the two of you watching one of the weird old shitty horror movies with terrible CGI about cannibals that he’s always making references to. he continually talks throughout the viewing, pointing to this screen, but your eyes fall on his bracelets and you bring his hand back down to where it rested on your stomach, playing with them.

“intestines should not look like that dude.” he speaks to the tv absentmindedly and you wrinkle your nose, not too interested in the movie.

“how’d you know?” you ask quietly.

“uh, seen some weird shit on reddit.” he blinks, doing a double take when your baggy sleep shirt rides up, now revealing the pair of cotton panties that had been hiding beneath. you feel him looking at you turn your head innocently to smile at him, before swivelling back to between your legs.

“oh, these are new. aren’t they cute?” you chirp softly and his hand hovers in the air for a moment before sliding hesitantly downwards.

“yea—” he clears his throat trying to sound casual despite his heartrate picking up and the obsession kicking in. he did not care about the movie anymore. “yeah. real — uh, real cute, sweetie. what, s’that a bow?” he uses his curiosity as an excuse to pluck at the ribbon at the top of the panties, his grip on it tugging the material up to wedge between your folds, creating a clear camel toe.

you bite your lip shyly in acknowledgment and his eyes flutter, dick stiffening in his shorts. he glances at you, licking over his lips— and he decides it’s going down tonight, he’s refrained for too long. “bet they’re like… super soft too, right?” he slides his fingers gently over the length of the panties, over where your clit lays and across the folds. your legs fall open and a shaky breath leaves you, but he’s having too much fun pretending he’s admiring the garment to stop.

“how much were these? look pretty good quality to me like… this is that fancy shit huh?” his finger teases along the waistband and you try and gather your thoughts, already feeling a wet patch starting to form where your hole is. as if he senses this, his middle finger starts to creep towards it.

“uh— don’t— don’t remember, was on sale. maybe like 20 dollars.” you shudder and he nods, feigning interest.

“damn, still a little pricey in my broke ass opinion… but i guess this crown jewel deserves only the best…” his thumb slides over your covered clit in reference and you pant, holding back a mewl as he digs his middle finger into your wet patch, stuffing the material into your hole slightly. you brave turning your head to look at him, gazing up at him with doe-like, blown out pupils.

“jayj… are you really that interested in my underwear?” there’s a tinge of innocence to your voice, like you truly believe there might be a chance he’s not messing with you. he huffs a chuckle out his nose as he smirks down at you.

“nah… you caught me…” his hand slides upwards, before his fingertips breach the waistband and he starts to push his hand inside the fabric. “guess i kind of just wanted an excuse t’play with this pretty pussy…” his fingers freeze above your clit, and he brings his mouth down to your ear. “you wont tell on me, right sugar?”

‧₊˚ 🐚 ✩ ₊˚ 👙 ⊹ 𓇼

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request a one shot for how Logan react to his shy gender neutral crush who always offer to help him whenever they think he needs it please?

Logan wasn’t used to people offering to help him—let alone someone like you, who was quiet, shy, and always seemed to linger in the background. You had a habit of stepping forward whenever you thought he needed a hand, whether it was something small like grabbing tools in the garage or volunteering to go on a mission with him. It wasn’t that Logan needed the help; he’d been self-reliant for longer than most people had been alive. But the way you offered—so genuine, so earnest—made him pause every time.

It didn’t hurt that he’d started to develop a soft spot for you.

Logan noticed you before you approached, as always. He was working on his motorcycle, crouched down, tightening bolts when he heard your soft footsteps behind him. He didn’t turn around, but he could sense your presence hovering, just like you always did when you were gearing up to offer your help.

"Hey, Logan," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, though he heard it clear as day. "Need a hand with that?"

He glanced over his shoulder, his sharp blue eyes meeting yours. He could see the slight nervousness in your expression, the way your hands fidgeted just a little. You always got a bit shy around him, though Logan couldn’t figure out why. You were one of the few people who made him feel calm, maybe even a little less like the gruff, lone wolf he’d spent most of his life being.

"Nah, I got it," he said, though his voice wasn’t as gruff as usual. There was a hint of softness, something reserved just for you. "But I appreciate the offer."

You nodded, looking like you weren’t quite ready to leave yet. Logan had noticed that too—you always stuck around, even when he turned down your help. Like you were waiting for another chance to jump in. And as much as Logan wasn’t used to needing anyone, he couldn’t deny he liked having you nearby.

"You don’t gotta help me all the time, y’know," Logan said, leaning back on his heels as he wiped his hands on a rag. "You don’t owe me nothin'."

Your face flushed slightly, and you glanced down, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. "I just… I like helping. And… I like being around you."

That made Logan pause, his gaze softening as he watched you. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the way you always found excuses to be near him, but hearing you say it aloud? That was different. His heart gave a little jolt, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

"You like bein' around me, huh?" he asked, his voice low, more teasing than usual.

You nodded quickly, though your eyes remained fixed on the ground, too shy to meet his gaze.

Logan stood up slowly, dusting his hands off before stepping closer to you, close enough that you had to tilt your head slightly to look up at him. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, but there was something about the way you got all flustered around him that made him want to test the waters.

"You know, most people don’t go out of their way to help me," he said, his voice still gentle but tinged with curiosity. "So why you always offerin'? What’s in it for you?"

You swallowed, clearly nervous, but you met his gaze for the first time, your voice soft but sincere. "I don’t need anything in return. I just… care about you. And I like being there for you."

Logan’s heart did another unexpected flip at your words, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to this—having someone care about him just because they wanted to. But looking at you, standing there all shy and honest, he realized he didn’t mind it one bit.

A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Well, darlin', if you wanna be around, I ain’t gonna stop ya."

Your eyes widened a little, surprised by his response, but a shy smile slowly spread across your face. "Really?"

Logan chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle your hair gently—a small gesture, but one that said more than words. "Really. 'Sides, it’s kinda nice havin' someone lookin' out for me for a change."

Your smile brightened, and Logan felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t expected. Maybe having you around wasn’t just nice—it was something he’d come to look forward to.

[writtenbymoonflower]

ok so,,,, i love your poly!mauraders fics like sm!!! i’d love to request their getting together story with the reader, like maybe she shares a class with each of them individually or something and they’re already together but they also all end up having a crush on her. feel free to run with this i just adore your writing.

thanks for requesting, lovely! poly!marauders x fem!reader

cw: none

900 words

You looked lost walking into the common room, clutching your book tight. Three heads turned at the sound of your Mary Janes hitting the ground. 

“Y/N! Haven’t seen you all day, where’ve you been runnin’ off to? C’mere, darling!” James opened his arms expectantly. You walked over, letting him hug your hips as you greeted the other boys. You were familiar with the group, sharing a few classes with them. You also ate lunch together every day and spent time in the common room at night. They were always soft and sweet on you, and you on them, you never understood it but you happily accepted. 

It just was difficult for you, because you liked them. You liked them a lot. They plagued your thoughts constantly, and their easy affection did not help the situation. You knew, the whole school knew, that the three boys were dating, they made it very obvious. You knew that you had no chance with them. They were happy and settled. You were happy for them, but it didn’t ease your yearning. You had been avoiding them for the last few days because of it, but they hadn’t made it easy. You winced, knowing that you would have to address your feelings. Sooner, rather than later it seemed.

“Hi!” You said shyly to the three boys, smiling. 

“You look really nice today, love.” Remus said, not hiding how his eyes raked your form. Your whole body heated, looking away from him. 

“Thank you,” You leaned more into James, making sure to keep it polite, even as his hands slipped slightly under the hem of your skirt. You pulled away, making James give you a concerned look. 

“You okay, honey?” James looked up at you with his big doe eyes, making your heart clench. 

“Yeah I’m okay, I just… I just need to talk to you guys.” You moved to be away from them, sitting in front of the couch they were all strewn across. 

“Okay,” Remus said, skeptically, setting his book down. Sirius fixed his gray eyes on you in a way that made you want to run away. 

“Okay,” You repeated, mentally preparing yourself for the (likely horrible) outcome.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, dolly.” Sirius said, much more softly than usually. “It’s just us.”

Yeah, it’s you three. You thought. 

“Okay, so, I know that we spend a lot of time together, and we are all friends. And I know that you three are like, together together.” You braced. They all looked confused but didn’t say anything. “I just um… well, I’ve developed some feelings for you three, and believe me, I tried. I tried to make them go away, I just, can’t I guess.” You started to tear up, looking down at your lap so they wouldn’t see. “Anyway, I’m really sorry if that makes things weird, I just… thought you should know.” You trailed off, shredding your cuticles from your anxious fidgeting. Sirius coughed out a laugh, making you inhale sharply. 

“Um, babe… we know. You thought we didn’t?” He asked, humor tilting his voice. You felt your heart sink. Had they all known and were making fun of you for it? You heard a book hit Sirius’ chest.

“Christ, Pads. Are you helping or are you hurting?” Remus scolded. “Y/N, dovey. We know, and the reason Sirius reacted like that,” He said accusatively at the dark-haired boy. “Is because, well, we thought that you knew that we know.” 

“And,” James cut in. “We thought that you knew we felt the same way.” He said, sounding confused. 

“Yeah,” Sirius’ voice was still tinged with humor. “Babe, I know that we haven’t really talked about it, but I thought you knew, you’re with us.” Tears just streamed further down your face, all the emotions catching up to you. You were not only relieved, but happily confused. You wiped your eyes. You looked up at them. 

“Oh,” You said, “I- I didn’t know that. I’m happy! I just thought you didn’t like me like that.” James looked appalled. 

“Shit, angel, are you crying?” He sounded horrified. “Come here.” You scrambled over to him, letting him pull you into his lap sideways while Sirius leaned over to wipe your eyes. 

“Baby,” Sirius laughed pitifully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

“It’s okay, I’m just relieved. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me after this.” 

“Sweetheart,” James said miserably. “We all really, really like you. Do you think we would’ve been this sweet to you if we didn’t? Is this your way of telling us we need to up our game?” He laughed. 

“No! I’m just stupid.” You laughed wetly. 

“You’re not stupid,” Remus looked at you scoldingly. “We just didn’t communicate. So, Y/N, we all really like you, and we want to be with you, the way we are with each other.” He looked deep into your eyes, amber irises swimming with fondness. “How does that sound to you?” 

“I would really like that.” You said shyly, leaning into James. He wrapped you up tighter. 

“Aw, sweet girl. I’m sorry you were so worried.” James cooed. You boldly touched James’ face, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“It’s okay, I know now.” You reassured. Sirius tore you from James’ grasp. 

“Okay, my turn!” He kissed your forehead with a loud smack. 

You could get used to this.

[sinsirellaxx]

How could he not(t)?

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Innocent reader is in love with Theodore and Theodore thinks about taking advantage of her. No smut – sorry if y'all expected some. 👀

How could he not take advantage of her? With the way she smiled, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he spared her a glance or even walked past her. The way she eagerly reached for her notes, almost dropping them in her haste, whenever he asked for them – which he frequently did.

The way he felt her eyes burn into him in class, desperately waiting for him to notice her, while twirling locks of her hair in her fingers. Only for her big innocent eyes to light up with a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks.

How could he not take advantage of her, if she so desperately wanted – needed his attention, always waiting with an eager smile for when they finally crossed paths.

“You know – I heard that Y/N is still a virgin.” Mattheo smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Theodore. Theo just scoffed, lighting a cigarette before taking a drag not at all interested in what Mattheo has to say.

“Come one … I know she isn’t exactly your type – but she’s like obsessed with you.”

It was true, you weren’t his type; you were too sweet – too pure for him. The way you adored him felt borderline suffocating and he couldn’t help but be annoyed at the way you followed him like a lost puppy, thinking that he wouldn’t notice.

Breathing out, the tall Italian stared at his friend, as he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I bet she’d willingly fall right into your bed if you tried a teeny tiny bit.”, the other boy cackled at the thought.

“Don’t wanna.” Nott shrugged his shoulders as he took another drag, staring into the distance as he leaned against the wall.

“Why not? She’s sweet … might be fun to break her in.”

Theodore shook his head, a mixture of annoyance and disdain evident on his face. "I said I don't want to, Mattheo. What don’t you get?"

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Theodore's response. "Seriously, Theo? You're passing up a chance like this? She practically worships the ground you walk on."

"Exactly," Theodore replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I don't want someone who worships me like some kind of deity. It’s lowkey creepy, dude – and she seems kind of boring.”  

Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head. "You're one strange dude, Theo. Most guys would kill for the kind of attention Y/N gives you."

"Maybe I'm not most guys," Theodore retorted, stubbing out his cigarette against the brick wall. "Besides, I have no interest in taking advantage of her just because she's infatuated with me. That's not the kind of person I want to be – I have my standards."

Mattheo shrugged, conceding defeat in the argument. "Suit yourself, man. But mark my words, someone else will swoop in eventually and that someone might just be me." Mattheo winked as pushed himself off the wall.

Theodore didn't respond, his thoughts drifting to Y/N and the way she looked at him with such earnestness.

With a heavy sigh, Theodore pushed himself off the wall as well and started walking away, following Mattheo as they both walked back to their dorm.

Theodore's mind buzzed with anticipation as he made his way to the Slytherin common room later that evening. The dimly lit room was alive with the sound of music and chatter, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and excitement. His eyes scanned the crowd as he finished his second drink of the day until they landed on her – Y/N, with her eyes already trained on him, batting her long lashes as their eyes connected.

Theodore had to admit she looked her hair styled perfectly and her outfit accentuating every curve. Her dress was shorter than anything he had ever worn before – it was rather risqué and not like her at all.

Instead of annoyance, Theodore felt a rush of desire course through him as she smiled softly at him before turning around laugh and chat with her friends, not sparing him another glance.

Unusual. Very unusual.

Mattheo sidled up next to him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. I must say, Nott, she cleans up quite nicely, doesn't she? Look at those hips! Can’t take your eyes off her, huh?"

Theodore's gaze remained fixed on Y/N, his mind racing with possibilities. He could feel his resolve waning with each passing second, the urge to actually listen to Mattheo for once growing stronger.

Placing a firm hand on his shoulders, Mattheo spoke with a wide smirk on his lips, “I think I’m gonna go talk to her –“

Without a word, Theodore made his way over to her, ignoring his friend’s words with a charming smile on his lips.

Y/N’s friends noticed him first, as he walked up to the group of girls, motioning for said girl to turn around. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked up into his eyes, standing closer to him than she ever has before.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here. You look good tonight."

A blush crept onto her cheeks at his words and close proximity. "Oh, uh, thank you, Theodore.”

Theodore could see the hint of nervousness in her eyes, and it only fueled his desire further – shy as always. He leaned in closer, his voice low and seductive. "Care to dance?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback by his forwardness. But then, with a shy smile and a pretty blush, she nodded, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

Theodore’s hands boldly flew up to hold onto the girl’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they swayed to the music. Y/N’s blush darkened at the way their bodies touched, her beautiful eyes looking into his shyly from underneath her full lashes.

Theodore couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph wash over him, as his eyes raked over her curves – his eyes narrowing as he watched the way she pressed her chest, which was almost spilling out of her tight velvet tube dress, against his. His eyes lingered on the smooth skin before they wandered to her smooth neck, swallowing harshly as his throat suddenly went dry. His hands slowly moved down to her plush hips, gripping hard as he pulled her closer – his fingers slowly inching towards here round bottom.

Tilting his head back slightly his hot gaze was met with big innocent eyes watching him lovingly.

How could he not take advantage of her? With the way she batted her lashes at him. The way she was eagerly pressing her body against his, her glossy lips slightly parted as his fingers squeezed her plump bottom, her eyes fluttering in anticipation.

She was eagerly waiting for Theodore to make the first move, to show her he wanted her just like she wanted him.

And he would show her. The whole night. Until he disappeared in the morning, leaving her to wake up alone in his bed with his smell lingering on the once clean sheets.

[sidekick-hero]

I think I love you, still

Written for day 1 of @steddieangstyaugust, second chances. Title is from "Still" by AVEC.

Tags: modern au, exes to lovers, steddie dads, getting back together

words: 2.8k | AO3 | rated teen

"Steve, come on." Robin's eyes bore into him, the frustration palpable. Steve knows that look, knows it means he's missing something, but he can't quite figure out what.

"It's just, Liz was nice, okay? We had a nice time." Even as he says it, he knows it's a weak argument. The word 'nice' feels hollow, a placeholder for something he can't quite define.

Robin rolls her eyes. "Steve, 'nice' is what you call a weather forecast, not a date. If you were really into her, you'd have more to say."

"She laughed at my jokes, she looked pretty, she smelled nice—"

"But did you feel anything? Sparks? Butterflies? Anything more than just... niceness?" Robin interrupts, her voice softer now, more concerned than frustrated.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. He's always been good at charming his way through dates, but there's been an emptiness lately, a disconnect he can't quite explain.

Robin sighs, her expression softening. "Steve, you deserve more than just 'nice'. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive."

Steve glances away, feeling a pang of discomfort. He doesn't want to admit it, but Robin's words hit home. The hollow feeling he's been carrying around, the absence of excitement and genuine connection, has been gnawing at him. He knows she's right, but the thought of confronting it feels too overwhelming. Before he can dwell on it, he decides to change the subject. "I’m picking up Lily from Eddie’s later. You wanna come over and watch a movie tonight?”

Robin raises an eyebrow but plays along. "Would love to, but Vickie and I are going on a date. She’s finally got a night off at work and I plan on making the most of it.”

Steve waggles his eyebrows. “Someone’s getting laid tonight.”

“God, I really hope so. A girl has needs, Steve. Needs.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Steve laughs. “I’ll tell my daughter that her auntie Robbie prefers her girlfriend over her goddaughter. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Robin half laughs, half groans. “Oh my God, don’t say it like that. You know I love spending time with Lily, it’s just…”

“Robs, I was joking. I know you do. I’m happy for you and Vickie. Go out, have a great night with the love of your life. Lily and I won’t run away.”

Robin nudges his shoulder with hers, her smile warm but tinged with concern. “Thanks, Steve. You know, you deserve that kind of happiness too.”

Steve's smile falters slightly, his eyes flickering away. “Yeah, well...”

“Steve,” Robin says softly, “you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re still hurting.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple, Robs. I can’t just… move on. Not when I see Eddie all the time because of Lily.”

Robin’s gaze softens even more, and she places a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to move on, but you do need to face how you feel. Avoiding it isn’t helping anyone, least of all you.”

He looks at her, his eyes big and pleading. Why is it still so hard, even after all these months? “I don’t know what you want me to say. That I still love him? That every time I see him, it feels like someone’s twisting a knife in my chest? Because it does, okay? But that doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh Steve” Robin says, voice full of the same pain he’s feeling. He knows how much it’s hurting her to see him in pain, that’s why he’s been trying to hide it from her. “Maybe it doesn’t change what happened, but it could change what happens next. You and Eddie were great together. And from what I hear, he’s been just as lost without you.”

Steve blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Robin takes a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. “Eddie… he’s been different since you two broke up. Chrissy said he’s been distant, not just with you but with everyone. I think he’s hurting just as much as you are.”

Steve’s heart aches at the thought of Eddie in pain. “Then why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he try to fix things?”

It's true, it was Steve who said those last words: Maybe we should break up. He hadn't said it because he didn't love Eddie anymore. But they fought all the time, about everything. When they first started dating, things had been so much easier. They never had big fights, just little things that would be fixed in no time before they had great make-up sex.

All that changed when they adopted Lily. He could never, not for one second, regret the miracle that was their little girl. But she showed them in bright technicolor all the things that weren't working between them.

Suddenly, money became a real problem. So did their jobs and hobbies, and the way Eddie could never clean up after himself, and Steve's tendency to become a mother hen and a control freak, with his anxiety making him moody and bitchy.

Breaking up had seemed like the most logical step, and when Steve had suggested it, Eddie had just hung his head and said, "Maybe you're right. Lily shouldn't grow up with her dads fighting all the time."

And that was it. They separated. There was no yelling, no slammed doors, no broken dishes. Just silence, devastating and final in a way that no fight between them had ever been.

"Maybe he thought you would be better off without him. Or maybe he's just as scared as you are," Robin suggests gently, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. "Look, all I'm saying is maybe tonight could be a chance for the two of you to talk. Really talk."

Steve shakes his head, conflicted. "I don't know if I can, Robs. What if it just makes things worse?"

Robin squeezes his arm reassuringly. "Or what if it makes things better? You won't know until you try. And you both deserve to be happy, together or apart. But you have to give yourselves the chance to find out. It's been two years, Steve. Don't you think the fact that you're still in love with him means something?"

"I think it means I'm really bad at moving on and letting things go. Look how long it took me to get over Nance."

"It's not the same and you know it. You and Eddie... I've never seen you look as happy as when you were with him. And I know you two ended things for a reason, but Chrissy told me that Eddie has gotten really good at the whole adult thing, y'know. And he takes good care of Lilly. Even toddler-proofed the recording studio so he could take her with him."

The thought makes him smile. He didn't know that, but it makes a warm feeling spread in his chest.

Steve exhales, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. "All right, I'll think about it. But no promises."

Robin gives him an encouraging smile. "That's all I'm asking. Just... be honest with yourself, Steve. And with Eddie."

Steve nods, feeling a mixture of dread and anticipation. As he leaves to pick up Lily, Robin's words echo in his head. Should he be honest with Eddie? Tell him how much he misses waking up with Eddie's curls tickling his face, his warm body pressed against his own. Open up and admit how he still falls asleep on the couch wrapped in Eddie's Metallica hoodie? Explain to Eddie why the days they trade Lily are both the best and worst days of his week?

As he drives to Eddie's, memories flood his mind-their first date, the day they adopted Lily, the laughter, the love, the heartache. He's scared, but underneath the fear is a glimmer of hope. Robin said that Eddie might miss him, too. That he has grown. And Steve thinks maybe they both have. Because Steve realizes that he, too, has changed, has settled into his responsibilities as Lily's dad.

Maybe he'll ask Eddie to join him and Lily for their movie night, and then they can put her to bed together like they did when they first had her. Before everything blew up in their faces. And then, if things go well, he could open a bottle of wine for them and they could talk.

When he arrives at Eddie's apartment building, Steve has made up his mind, his heart beating faster at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they might get a second chance.

He knocks on the door with an almost giddy smile on his face, which only grows when the door is flung wide open before he's even finished knocking.

Lily jumps into his arms and Eddie steps into the door with a smile. They exchange a few words about Lily's visit with her dad, the usual polite conversation that feels painfully superficial to Steve. He can see the exhaustion in Eddie's eyes, the way his smile doesn't quite reach them, and it only makes his heart ache more.

Summoning his courage, Steve takes a deep breath. "Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to join Lily and me for a movie night tonight? Just like old times."

Eddie hesitates, and for a brief moment, Steve's heart lifts with hope. But then Eddie glances away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, I'd love to, Steve, but I actually have a date tonight."

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut. He struggles to keep his composure, forcing a smile that feels like it's cracking his face. "Oh, that's great. I hope you have a good time."

"Thanks," Eddie replies, his gaze softening with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Steve nods quickly, not trusting his voice to hold steady if he says more. "Yeah, of course. No worries. I just thought it would be nice. Anyway, have fun."

Eddie's eyes linger on Steve, as if searching for something unsaid, but he doesn't press further. Steve feels the weight of those eyes on his back as he turns to leave, Lily clutching his hand tightly. He tries to act normal, to hide the turmoil churning inside him, but every step away from Eddie's door feels like a step deeper into his own loneliness.

As they walk to the car, Lily chatters about her day, her innocent excitement a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Steve's heart. He listens, nodding and smiling at the right moments, but his mind is elsewhere, replaying the scene over and over.

When they finally reach the car, Steve lifts Lily into her seat and buckles her in, his hands trembling slightly. He takes a moment to compose himself before getting into the driver's seat, glancing at his daughter in the rearview mirror. Her wide, curious eyes meet his, and he forces another smile.

"Ready to go home, kiddo?" he asks, his voice strained but steady.

Lily nods enthusiastically, and as they drive away from Eddie's apartment, Steve's thoughts drift back to Robin's advice. Maybe he should be honest with Eddie, but tonight isn't the night. Tonight, he needs to focus on Lily, to find solace in the simple joy of spending time with his daughter.

At home, he helps Lily settle at the kitchen table with her crayons and coloring book before moving to make them dinner.

“Spaghetti-O's okay, baby?” he asks, already knowing her answer.

“Yayyy!” she cheers, lifting both arms in a way she clearly picked up from Eddie.

They both settle on the couch with their dinner on their laps, indulging in the treat as Steve starts the movie. Finding Dory, a movie Robin recommended. Lily is totally engrossed in the adventures on screen, giving Steve the freedom to let his mind wander. He tries to push those thoughts away, but the image of Eddie with some faceless guy keeps intruding.

It hurts, and he wonders again if he could have done something different. Maybe if he’d said something, told Eddie about his feelings earlier… He’s still convinced that breaking up was the right decision, that it wasn’t working and that Lily was the one suffering because of it. Back then, they had forgotten how to talk to each other. But now, Steve feels like they could re-learn, not just how to talk but how to be together, if they could give each other the time and space to do so.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the doorbell ring. It’s only when Lily pulls at his sleeve that he looks up.

“Huh?”

“Someone’s at the door.”

Steve's heart races as he moves to the door, unsure who could be visiting at this hour. He opens it to find Eddie standing there, a hesitant smile on his face. He’s not dressed up, instead wearing a well-worn pair of dark jeans and a soft-looking hoodie.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly.

“Hey,” Steve replies, his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. “I thought you had a date?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “Yeah, about that… I canceled. Figured I’d rather be here with you and Lily. If that’s okay?”

Steve’s heart skips a beat, his mind racing. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”

Eddie steps inside, and Lily's face lights up. “Daddy Eddie!” she squeals, running to hug him. Eddie scoops her up, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey, princess. How’s my favorite girl?”

“Good! We’re watching Finding Dory!” Lily announces proudly.

“Sounds like fun,” Eddie says, setting her down gently. He looks at Steve, his expression softening. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Steve says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get you a plate.”

As they settle back on the couch, the atmosphere is charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. Eddie sits beside Steve, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brush. It’s a small contact, but it sends shivers down Steve’s spine.

Throughout the movie, Steve finds it hard to concentrate. His mind is a whirl of emotions, questions, and hopes. He glances at Eddie, who seems equally distracted, though he’s making a valiant effort to engage with Lily and the movie.

When the credits finally roll, Lily is already half asleep, nestled between them. Eddie looks at her with a tender smile, then at Steve. "She's grown so much," he says softly. "Every time I look at her, I swear she's grown another inch."

"Yeah, she has," Steve agrees, his voice just as soft. "It doesn't help that you only see her every other week."

"Ouch," Eddie winces and Steve's head whips around.

"Oh God, Eddie, no! That's not what I meant. I feel like I've been putting my foot in my mouth around you lately," Steve says with big, pleading eyes and color in his cheeks, "What I meant to say is that Lily misses you, you know. We both do."

Eddie's face softens, his eyes flickering with feeling. "I miss being with both of you, too. Every day."

Steve's heart aches at the admission and he decides to take Robin's advice. "Eddie, I..." he begins, just as Eddie says, "Steve...."

Eddie hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Steve, I was getting ready for my date, but I couldn't stop thinking about the expression on your face when I told you. It was like a punch to the gut."

Steve's eyes widen in surprise, but he stays silent, letting Eddie continue.

"I realized in that moment that all I wanted was to spend the evening with you and Lily, like a family," Eddie says, his voice trembling slightly. "No date could ever measure up to the way I feel when I'm around you."

Steve's heart races, his breath catching in his throat. "Eddie, I... I don't know what to say."

Eddie reaches out, gently taking Steve's hand in his. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just... know that I still love you, Steve. I never stopped. And I miss us, more than words can say."

Steve's eyes fill with tears, his grip on Eddie's hand tightening. "I miss us too, Eddie. Every single day."

Eddie pulls Steve into a hug, their daughter still nestled between them. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay? For Lily. For us."

Steve nods, feeling a sense of hope he hasn't felt in a long time. "Yeah, one step at a time."

As they sit there, holding each other, Steve knows this is the beginning of something new. It won't be easy, but he's hopeful that they've both learned from past mistakes. This was their second chance, and he knows they'll make it this time. Together, as a family.