#there is one thing missing though (it's a kiss)

[distantdarlings]

WORSHIP // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.5K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After Theodore Nott catches you drawing him in the middle of class, he feels he deserves to see your art up close and personal.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Fingering (f!receiving), slight dubcon? (Reader definitely wants it, it’s just not super obvious at first), soft!Dom Theo, sub!reader, Theo’s a bit pushy, fem!reader, slight nipple play, teasing, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

I Feel It Coming - The Weeknd, Daft Punk

- - -

He was a god. Or as close to one as a human could possibly come to looking like one.

You had found yourself worshipping him daily, just not in the most mundane way. Your form of worship required a quill and parchment, in which you traced the curves of his cheeks and the strong bridge of his nose. Only, it wasn’t with your fingers or lips. It was with the quill and parchment.

You’d spent hours surveying him in classes, between them, at lunch… It was one of the only things that got you through each day, expecting to see his carved features.

Your knee would bob up and down, your fingers would tremble, and your teeth would punch holes into the metal grip of your quill. It was pathetic, really. But, you couldn’t help it.

The days he didn’t show up to class felt like hell. It felt like you were falling through the deepest riff of boredom you’d ever experienced.

Now, as you waited for him to arrive, you settled your things out on the desk before you just as you always did. You had a routine that you clung to that was reserved only for Theodore Nott.

A few breaths later, Theo was walking through the door with his friends trailing behind him.

His hair was perfectly tousled just as it always was; his leather, sharply monogrammed schoolbag was thrown lazily over his shoulder; his uniform sweater was tossed over his arm, whilst his white button-up was only partially fastened, exposing a bit of a lean chest. Beauty marks kissed the skin of his neck, traveling gently upward and onto his face. He was truly a specimen.

You exhaled shakily, inconspicuously preparing yourself to begin sketching. He glanced around the room, salt-spray eyes trailing over every face in the class until coming to rest on you.

As he came to look at you, you did a double take, reclaiming eye contact with him just as soon as you’d broken it. A second or two passed of staring that could have been considered rude and pure panic flowing through your body before he glanced away again.

You blinked a bit, seemingly snapping out of some powerful stupor that only clouded your brain whenever he was around. How stupid.

Despite the intensity of your awkwardness, Theo settled in at his desk as if you hadn’t just gawked at him only moments before.

And as he settled in, you did as well.

The professor entered the classroom from the rear entrance, announcing where the class would be picking up from the day before.

Sounds of rustling papers and thudding book covers echoed about the stone walls, but you only focused on Theo.

Your fingers gripped the quill they’d become so accustomed to as you began to sketch.

Gentle lines. Soft strokes of ink that barely held any space on the paper, but would eventually bear more weight. Your wrist flicked delicately in order to master the movements intended to convey perfection. At least, the way you interpreted it.

There were a few times when Theo looked up and managed to catch your eyes but, like earlier, it seemed to be a passing glance.

Disappointment would flood your gut every time he refocused on something else. Though he didn’t know you, you knew him, and naivety fueled fantasies that one day he’d truly see you and want you.

Your hand clenched tighter around your quill, annoyed by your situation. You made one, strong line and Theo’s nose appeared on your parchment. It was an exact copy. You didn’t need to practice anymore. You were able to replicate him perfectly because you drew him nearly every day and studied him on the days you didn’t. All things considered, you likely knew Theo’s face better than your own.

“I asked if you were still with us?” You heard the words faintly as if you were underwater. Then someone cleared their throat. Your eyes remained on your parchment. The same person cleared their throat again, in a much more exaggerated way.

You glanced up, catching the professor staring directly at you. A quick survey of the room told you that every student had their eyes pinned on you as well—including Theo.

Subconsciously, you slid your books over your parchment and nodded. A deep flush poured into your cheeks.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “Just doodling.”

“Well…just as long as you’re doodling and listening, okay?”

You responded with a small, forced smile. Though you didn’t dare look back up, you could tell Theo was still gazing in your direction. You couldn’t keep the nerves from picking up and manifesting themselves in all physical ways. Your left set of fingernails picked at the dead skin around their edges, your knee bounced again, and your right hand-picked at the dried skin on your bottom lip.

Only a few more moments passed until the professor called the end of class. You gathered your books and parchment up in one fell swoop and shoved them all into your bag. Embarrassment still shone on your face like a beacon of light as you made your way toward the exit.

***

You made your way through the halls of the castle you'd come to adore, trying your best to push all of the shame from your mind. Every time you thought of what happened, another round of hot blood would fill your cheeks. You knew you were red as a tomato but there was nothing you could do about it. You just hoped your hair covered your face enough for no one to notice.

By the time you reached the Slytherin common room, your hands were burning with how tightly you'd been clutching your bag. The leather had bit roughly into your soft palms, causing indentations along the flesh. It looked as if you had sutures wound through your hands. Amusedly, you traced your thumb down them—

“You’re in my History of Magic class, right?”

You jumped and spun around, your bag swinging and bumping against your back.

Now, as if all of your fantasies had come to fruition, you were standing right before Theodore Nott.

Fuck, had he always been this tall? The lean boy towered over you, so much so that he was tilting his face down to look at you. Your head barely cleared the base of his throat. You were enthralled. Your lips hung open stupidly.

“Er, yes, I am,” you chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I, uh—”

“You're all good,” he chuckled, shrugging slightly. “I was just curious what you'd been sketching in class.”

Suddenly, you were regretting all of the times you'd been cursing your body for filling your cheeks with red, hot blush just moments ago. You honestly wished for that sensation to return as your entire face drained of all blood and turned pale white.

“You—er, I was…,” you trailed off stupidly, begging your brain to come up with some kind of quick excuse. “Just, like, little sketches of—” a thought appeared in your head— “plants. For my Herbology class.”

You leaned down to the armchair your bag lay against and popped the buckle open. With shaking hands, you selected the pieces of parchment you'd been working on the day before and presented them to him.

He accepted them with gentle, yet strong hands. His eyebrows raised as he scanned the piece. “Wow, this is great.”

You could've died on the spot.

“Thank you,” you laughed breathlessly, awkwardly clasping your hands together before you.

“Really, this is some of the best artwork I've ever seen,” he smiled, handing it back to you.

You took the pieces of parchment back with a blissful smile and turned back to your bag.

“But I know it's not what you were working on today,” he said.

Your fingers paused their work in shoving the artwork back into your bag. You glanced over your shoulder.

“I'm sorry?” you asked, shocked at his bluntness.

“I know that's not what you were working on today because I saw you working on that piece yesterday at lunch. Today, you were working on something smaller.”

You felt as if you couldn't breathe. An awkward chuckle breezed past your lips.

“Can I see what you were working on today? When the professor called on you? When you covered it up with your books?” His eyes never left yours. They were demanding and soft all at the same time.

“Oh, that was…that wasn't anything special. It was just some lines and scribbles—”

“Were you drawing me?” he asked.

“Er, no! It was—”

“Please don't lie to me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice suddenly an octave lower. Sweetheart? Merlin, what the hell had you just gotten yourself into?

“I don't…”

“You were drawing a picture of me in class today, just like you have been every single day for the entire semester,” he said. “And I want to see them. All of them.”

“Why?” you whimpered, the useless word being the only thing your voice could force out.

“Because when someone watches me so intently every day, I want to know why. If you're drawing me, I feel I'm entitled to see that which I'm being a muse for.”

He had a point. Fuck.

“Okay, sweetheart, you’re gonna take me to your dorm and show me these drawings, alright?” he asked, his voice so painfully gentle.

His hand reached out and he selected a small strand of hair that slipped from behind your ear. He tugged on it gently, massaging it between his thumb and forefinger, memorizing the texture of it.

Your breath shuddered as he looked back at you and maintained searing eye contact as he tucked the stray hairs back behind your ear.

“What are you waiting for?” he murmured.

“What?”

“I asked what you were waiting for. I asked you to do something for me,” he said, seeming almost bored with the conversation. “Walk.”

You nodded slowly, immediately obeying his demands. In your mind, your first interaction with Theo would not have involved your drawings or the boy before you taking over the entire thing.

Theo watched as you turned away from him, eyes facing the staircase to the girls’ dormitory. Your breath pulsed in deep motions.

“Er, what about—?”

“I’ll get your bag,” he interrupted. “I’ve asked you to walk.” His voice was soft but stern.

You sighed shakily, willing yourself to take the first step forward. The fire crackled in the corner and covered the slight sounds his shoes made behind you. He moved silently, like a whisper in the evening. Like a shadow. A chill erupted across your arms.

Your feet carried you up the staircase, your mind barely forcing your body to move. If you stopped for even a second, you were sure you’d fall back right into the boy prowling behind you.

“Theodore, do you think—”

“Call me Theo,” he interrupted, placing a gentle hand at the small of your back as the both of you reached the staircase landing. A small gasp escaped your lips at the contact.

He stopped beside you and looked down at you. You gaped up at him stupidly, enamored and waiting for further instructions. You couldn't be sure why on earth you were listening so intently. Perhaps…?

“Theo,” you corrected. “Am I under the influence of the Imperius Curse?”

He smiled just a bit as if your accusations were amusing, though they weren't in the slightest. “Why don't you tell me? Try and walk down those stairs and see what happens. I think you'll find that I'm not controlling you at all.”

You looked behind you and weighed your options. Of course, you'd never been under the Imperius Curse before so you weren't exactly sure what it’d feel like. Would you have even been able to question him if you had been?

The fact that you were able to weigh your options right now alluded that you weren’t under any influences, but you couldn’t deny that you would have assumed your resistance toward him would have been a bit stronger. Obviously not.

You turned back to face him. His eyes hadn’t seemed to have left you at all. You swallowed thickly—desperate for him to either drop this whole thing or give you another instruction because the eye contact was driving you crazy.

“I won't ask again,” he spoke. A pause filled the air, his mouth forming a small frown. “Take me to your dorm and show me those drawings.” So gentle.

You nodded and walked past him. Once again, his footfalls were silent as he fell into step behind you. The feeling of not being able to sense him was eerie. Simultaneously, the knowledge that he was there was riveting. It felt as if you were being chased by some ancient creature. Like your body was in survival mode and trying to flee. Yet, seemingly involuntarily, tingles erupted in your abdomen each time he whispered a direction.

You stopped in front of your dormitory door. When you didn’t move after a few seconds, he reached past your frozen body and turned the handle.

The door creaked open, revealing a mostly dark room, save the enchanted stove in the center of the floor which emanated small waves of cozy heat.

Again, he placed his hand against your back, urging you forward. As you crossed the threshold of the room, you came to a realization—one that seemed to make the tingling in your abdomen ten times stronger.

It was just you and Theo in this room. That could’ve meant nothing but just the way he spoke had chills running down your arms. Surely, he meant to speak to you in that way. You knew it wasn’t just the way he sounded because you’d heard him plenty of times in class. Today, his voice was softer and lower and demanding. It was a far cry from his typical light, almost bored words. Today, he sounded purposeful.

Surely, it meant something. It had to. He shut the door.

“Where are they, darling?” he asked. Again with the pet names… Your breath caught in your throat.

“Er, they’re over here,” you whispered, leading him toward the leatherbound art portfolio crammed between your bed and bedside table.

You fell into a squat, sliding your collection of pieces out from their hiding spot and displaying them on the bed.

One by one, hundreds of sketches of the boy looming behind you slid across the satin duvet. His drawn eyes pierced through you, threatening to reveal every private thought you'd had since you'd begun creating these portraits.

Theo’s breath seemed to halt just as yours had moments ago. He leaned around you and pressed his fingers against the thick parchment. He traced the outlines of his own face and body, careful to avoid touching the medium itself, so as not to smudge anything. Your heart swelled as he looked at them.

Both panic and excitement vibrated in your body with each touch he placed to your works. No one had ever seen these before, especially not Theo.

“Why do you draw me?” he asked, eyes not leaving the parchment.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes while you debated your answer. There were a thousand reasons why you drew him—desire unfortunately being one of the main ones, but inspiration being another. You weren't sure if you could answer straightly.

“Er…” You racked your brain for a response.

His eyes turned back to you. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry. I don't know.”

“Do you want me?” he asked, eyes never leaving yours. You nearly choked on your spit.

“What—er… what exactly do you mean? Do I want you to what?” you sputtered awkwardly.

“You know what I meant,” he said. Just like earlier, his hand reached out to select a stray piece of hair that hung next to your cheek. His fingers tugged gently on it as he seemed to inspect it. Only, this time, he didn't push it back behind your ear.

Slowly, he allows the curl of hair to settle against his palm, situated up against his thumb. The rest of his fingers press gently against your head just behind your ear, his pinky easing itself up and down the curvature of your skull in a soothing manner.

Your hands are shaking; you can't stop them. It’s so impossibly difficult to maintain eye contact with him, knowing that his steel blue irises are going to be burning their typical holes directly through your cheeks.

Despite his lidded, easy gaze, your heart rate skyrocketed every time he looked at you.

When you did nothing, his other hand came up to the opposite side of your head to mirror the movements of the first. Your lips parted as a blush blossomed within your stomach.

“Do you want me?” he repeated, all but whispering.

It felt like hours passed before you were finally able to will your lips to form words, though—in reality—it was only a few seconds.

“Yes,” you finally said, nodding your head desperately.

Theo wasted no time pressing his lips directly to yours. Your eyes widened in shock for only a few seconds before they slipped shut, and the kiss deepened.

Theo tasted just as you would always have imagined. Echoes of pine, rain, and even a bit of lavender billowed against your cheeks with each breath he took.

His hands held your head right where he wanted it, allowing him to maintain full control of the contact.

The uselessness of your body was apparent. In an attempt to combat that, you willed your hands to rest lightly on his chest. The warmth beneath your fingertips was reminiscent of dreams you'd had of him. Dreams where his lips were on yours and your hands were pressed to his skin, and the similarities between them and current reality were not lost on you.

His hands dropped from your face to your hips. He pulled you even closer to his body, his lips devouring yours, his scent all-consuming. Your back arched against him, deliciously molding into him like a piece of the earth. A gasp erupted between your lips.

“Draw me,” Theo sighed, pulling away from you. You stared at him, breath coming out in hard pants.

“What?” you gasped.

“Draw me right now,” he demanded. One hand still held you against him with the opposite reaching up to touch your hair once more. “I want you to draw me right now and let me watch the process.”

You weighed your options, eyes flicking away from his and then meeting them again. This pattern repeated itself a few times before you finally took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down for the first time since this whole interaction started.

You weren't going to allow him to have this much control over you.

With shaking hands, you pulled away from him and turned to select one of the sketchbooks and charcoal pencils off of your desk.

He settled himself onto your bed, straightbacked and staring through your soul. You swallowed thickly as you selected the chair against your desk and willed yourself to calm down.

Drawing Theo had become a daily thing for you so—besides the obvious—there was no reason for you to be so nervous. The two of you accidentally made eye contact constantly throughout class, so why was this different? At least, that's what you tried to convince yourself of.

This was different because you were so close to him that you could see every breath, every shudder, every blink, every beat of his heart… you were now privy to every detail your art had been lacking in the past.

Everything that was missing was now able to be added. It was incredible. You could hardly contain your excitement.

But, after building yourself up and convincing your fingers that the shakes were not necessary, Theo stood from his spot on the bed as soon as your pencil touched paper.

“Er,” you started. “Theo, models have to stay put.”

He walked around behind you, staring at your paper. His hands rested on your shoulders.

“I know you don’t need to see me to draw me,” he murmured. His lips caressed over the curvature of your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your flesh.

“I want you to draw me and…,” he stopped to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bit back a moan. “…if you stop, I will make you regret it. Does that sound okay?”

His hands slid down your arms, warm and gentle. You nodded slowly—heat beginning to pool between your thighs. A shudder passed through you.

“What if—?”

“No, sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Just draw me and don’t stop.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of yours and positioned it against the piece of parchment. His thumb brushed against your knuckles as he pushed you to begin sketching.

For a moment, you did nothing and he did nothing, then his lips pressed once more to your neck as soon as you began drawing.

You shuddered but forced your hand to keep moving. A familiar portrait—his lidded eyes, his sharp nose—began to appear before you just like it had so many times before. This was so usual for you, it was almost comfortable.

But then there was Theo—lips at your neck, seductive words in your ears, fingers slowly tracing down your arms.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he whispered. “Keep going.”

His hands slipped to your waist past the wooden chair’s back. His finger sent shockwaves up your spine. Your hand shook around the pencil, mussing up a few of your lines. It didn’t matter, though, you still saw Theo. His features were much too familiar.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You nodded, biting your lip to hide any embarrassing sounds.

His fingers, wrapped around your front, began to split your shirt buttons apart one at a time. Only, every movement was painfully slow. You almost wanted to shout at him to hurry up.

Once your shirt was completely open, he let the two sides linger for a moment there—not pulling them apart, not closing them back. Beneath those thin layers of fabric lay a whole new world of intimacy for him to explore, but it seemed that he was waiting for something.

Finally, you perked up enough to ask. “Why’d you stop?” Your knee bounced nervously.

“Why'd you stop?”

You looked down and, sure enough, your hand had ceased all movements and the portrait of Theo was only half finished.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, resuming your piece. With each new inch of skin he touched, it was getting harder and harder to focus on something as minute as drawing a picture.

Then, as soon as you began working again, he resumed his teasing. At this point, he slipped your shirt apart and let it fall down over your shoulders. He allowed the sleeves to bunch around your elbows where they were bent against the chair's arms.

Your heart raced as his warm breath fanned across your naked skin. Thank Merlin the bra you wore was half-decent—all black and simple lace.

When his fingers made contact with your flesh, you could have sworn your heart stopped. The simple contact had your eyes fluttering, blurring your vision.

“Don't stop,” he growled, plunging his hands into your bra and massaging your breasts. You whimpered and continued your art. This was much harder than you ever could have imagined.

His hands found the clip that rested on the front of your bra and expertly unhooked it. Your breasts sprung free—hard and sore from his toying. A soft moan left you as his hands continued to touch one of your most intimate areas.

Then, as your pencil came to the curves of his neck, his right abandoned your chest and slid down your exposed stomach. Air caught in your throat.

His free hand slowly but determinedly tugged the edge of your skirt up to the top of your thighs. The uniform fabric pooled there awkwardly, showing off your tights and thin panties.

“Fuck, you look as good as I imagined,” he sighed against your ear. One hand is still on your breast, one hand sliding itself between your thighs.

By this point, you'd finished your basic sketch and, typically, would start to go back over everything a bit darker. Then, you'd shade all the appropriate spots. Then, the bell would ring. Typically. But this wasn't a typical thing.

His fingers made contact with your core through your panties. The sounds that left you now were much more shameless—wanton and desperate as he acted out everything you'd imagined in your most private moments.

As your pencil traced the edge of his cheekbones, he slid your undergarments to the side and pushed two fingertips through your mounting slick. Your head fell back and his shoulder was there to catch it.

His lips pressed back to your neck, not caring so much now that you weren't drawing. He seemed satisfied enough with how far you'd gotten. Or he was just too focused on your pleasure.

When he finally sank his fingers into you, your moans became high-pitched and your hips began to rock against his hand.

He groaned against your flesh, mimicking your breathy sounds. His left hand continued to pinch your nipple about, stimulating what he couldn't with his right.

Between his tongue on your neck, his fingers on your breast, his hand against your core, and his sporadically whispered words, you knew you wouldn't last long against him. Still, you forced yourself to try.

With a weak chest, you leaned forward and made your hand resume its previous work. You finished his cheekbones—your hips still rolling against him; you finished his ears—your lips parted in a whine; you finished his throat—your eyes began to roll back.

Then he was sucking a particularly deep bruise against an especially sensitive spot on your neck and you were cumming hard around his hand. Your spend pooled against his palm and your legs.

The pressure from your hands crushed the tip of the charcoal pencil against the paper, creating a big, black blotch across his cheek. It formed a sort of scar against his unblemished skin.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of your face and collapsed onto the parchment, blurring another bit of the sketch. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” he asked, gently retrieving his fingers from within you. “What’s wrong?”

“The picture,” you whined. “It's ruined.”

He leaned around you to take a peek and, upon seeing the disaster that had become your art, he laughed aloud.

“No, darling,” he whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to your head. “I think this is your best one yet.”

-

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74 , @2dloveshp, @seagull-on-toast

[reiding-writing]

hey, I loveee your work and writing style and all that like you're so skilled is crazy. I wanted to ask if you could write a cold reader story where her and Reid are like kind of in that shooting training place iykwim and like there's some tension and like him cornering her against a wall or something like just Spencers not so innocent side showing iykwim.

it'd be great ty I appreciate your work smmm !! (feel free to ignore this ofc)

TRAINING WHEELS — SPENCER REID!

spencer finds himself with a little more confidence than usual knowing that you reciprocated his affections.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 2.5k | fluff? | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — ik how excited people are for the romantic era but i have the full intention of slowburning this slowburn

The basement shooting range is cold, sterile, the kind of place that swallows sound and replaces it with something heavier—anticipation, focus, silence that hums with potential.

The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, metallic and sharp, settling deep in your lungs. Overhead fluorescents flicker just enough to be noticeable, washing the concrete walls in harsh white light. It’s familiar, clinical, almost comforting in its emptiness.

You exhale slowly as you step into position, rolling your shoulders back, trying to shake the weight of the day from your muscles. This was supposed to be simple—just practice, just you and a loaded magazine, just the controlled rhythm of loading, aiming, firing. Precision and repetition, something steady to focus on.

But you’re not alone.

Spencer stands beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, watching.

He’s not trying to be obvious about it, but you know him too well to miss the way his gaze lingers. He doesn’t have any real reason to be here—no evaluation to oversee, no personal training to run through. And yet, when you’d mentioned heading down to the range, he’d fallen into step beside you without hesitation.

No excuses, no pretence, just quiet presence.

You don’t acknowledge him right away, keeping your attention on the weapon in your hands. The cold metal feels solid beneath your fingertips as you load each round into the magazine, letting the rhythmic motion ground you.

But no matter how much you try to focus, you can still feel him there—still hyper-aware of the way he shifts his weight, the way his eyes track your movements.

There’s something between you two, something fragile and undefined, hanging in the air like the recoil after a shot.

It’s in the way your conversations linger just a little too long, in the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you a file, in the way he hesitates before saying goodnight, like he’s considering staying just a moment more.

In the stolen moments.

The ones where he isn’t just Spencer Reid, the genius profiler, but something softer.

The kisses that shouldn’t have happened but did—hesitant at first, then something deeper, something neither of you have dared to name. The quiet nights spent in his company, sitting too close, talking about things that matter and things that don’t, always circling something unspoken but never treading too far.

You’d talked about it once—what this was, what it could be. You weren’t together. Not officially. Not yet.

Slow, he’d said.

You’d agreed.

But slow feels suffocating when he’s this close, standing in your periphery, his presence something solid and steady, something you could lean into if you let yourself.

Still, neither of you say anything.

You pull back the slide, chambering a round, and lift the gun. The silence between you is thick, charged.

You take aim, exhale, and fire.

And through it all, Spencer doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

Just watches.

He leans casually against the partition, his posture effortlessly relaxed, though you know the wheels in his head are always turning.

He rattles off statistics about shot groupings, stance efficiency, how your grip could be tighter, your posture more aligned. His voice is soft, a steady flow of words meant to improve, to refine, to make you better.

You’ve heard it all before. He’s nothing if not thorough—methodical in the way he assesses every detail, every angle.

You’re barely listening, focused on lining up your next shot. The sight is steady, your finger curled around the trigger. You don’t flinch when you squeeze it. The shot rings out, a solid thud against the target.

But you can’t ignore him.

He’s there, a constant presence just over your shoulder, his attention glued to every subtle shift you make. You’re grateful, in a way. It’s nice that, even after your new agreement—whatever that means—he hasn’t changed.

He’s still Spencer. The same Spencer, with his incessant need to be helpful, his quiet enthusiasm for numbers, his comfort in being the knowledgeable one.

You appreciate that, more than you’re willing to admit. There’s a relief in the normalcy of it all, in the way he doesn’t treat you any differently. No awkward pauses, no overthinking. Just him, doing what he does best, and you, pretending you don’t feel that small shift every time his gaze lingers a little too long.

Another shot.

You exhale, steadying the gun. But you can feel him watching. You can feel the weight of his attention like a second presence in the room. It’s hard to ignore.

The next shot is off-center, just a little too far to the left.

Spencer clicks his tongue in calculated disapproval. The sound is sharp, knowing. “You're compensating too much with your shoulder,”

You don’t flinch.

Instead, you lower the gun, turning slightly to meet his gaze. “I know,” you mutter, but there’s no bite in your tone. You’re not irritated—not yet. Just... aware of the way his eyes study every move you make. “It’s a bad habit.”

He tilts his head, considering. His eyes never leave yours. “It’s fixable,” he says, almost too calmly. There’s a slight emphasis on fixable, as though it’s not just your aim he’s speaking to, but something deeper, something only you would pick up on.

His gaze drops, and you watch him take a few steps toward you, his sneakers quiet on the polished concrete. When he’s close enough, you can feel the heat radiating off him, the closeness stirring something in your chest.

He reaches for you, not quite touching yet, but the air between you crackles with the promise of contact. “Here,” he murmurs, and before you can protest, his hand gently brushes against your waist, adjusting your stance ever so slightly.

You hold your breath, trying to ignore the way his touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. The moment stretches, both of you suspended in that quiet space between professionalism and something more—something that neither of you is ready to acknowledge, not yet.

The silence is thick, but not uncomfortable.

His hands stay put a little too long, his fingers lingering just a beat beyond what could be considered necessary. His touch is warm and steady against your waist, the weight of his body still aligned with yours, his presence all-encompassing in the silence of the shooting range. The moment stretches on, the space between you both charged, a tension building slowly that you’re reluctant to acknowledge but unable to escape.

You can feel the solidness of him behind you, the heat radiating from his chest where his body presses lightly against your back, sending a wave of warmth spreading through your own frame.

He’s close—so close—and yet it’s not just his proximity that has your pulse quickening. It’s something else. Something you can’t quite put a name to, but you’re well aware of it: the delicate line you’re both walking between professional and personal, between the easygoing nature of your friendship and the unspoken weight of what might be lingering underneath.

The silence stretches taut between you, each second a thread winding tighter, pulling you both toward something you’re both hesitant to name.

Neither of you speaks, and yet the space hums with anticipation, the quiet broken only by the occasional sound of your breathing, shallow and steady.

You can’t stay still forever.

With a soft shift of your body, you tilt your head slightly, trying to break the tension, trying to regain a bit of control.

"If I shoot with you behind me like this, the recoil will make me elbow you in the face." Your voice comes out lightly, almost dismissive, as though you’re playing the moment off as nothing. But your body betrays you, the words coming out with an undertone you didn’t intend—something a little too breathless, a little too aware of the proximity between you.

You expect him to step back, to release you, to make some kind of excuse to create a little space between you, to dissipate the heat that’s building between you both. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Spencer hums softly, the sound low and knowing, almost unbothered, but it’s that unbothered attitude that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t retreat an inch. Instead, he stays where he is, his hands pressing just a bit firmer against your body, his chest still a whisper away from your back.

"I’ll take my chances," he says, his voice smooth, a slight smile tugging at his lips—though whether it’s in amusement or something else, you can’t quite tell.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The words hang in the air between you like a challenge, a dare, one that neither of you seems willing to take on directly.

You feel him there, unyielding, still in his place, like he’s waiting for you to make the next move. His hands are light, but they’re persistent. They remain there, subtly guiding your posture, like he’s not even thinking about it. It’s natural for him—this quiet way of fixing things, always adjusting, always helping, always getting a little too close without ever stepping over the line.

And yet, in that moment, the line feels blurred, sliding further away with every breath you take.

You don’t press the issue. You could. You should—but something stops you. It’s not fear, not exactly. But there’s a strange kind of uncertainty, an electric current between you that you’re not quite sure how to handle.

He’s still holding you, his body not moving an inch, and you could move away, could break the touch, break the tension—but you don’t.

Instead, you remain frozen in place, barely breathing, the weight of his body a constant, unspoken reminder of the space between what this is and what it could be.

You’re aware of every detail—how the warmth of his breath brushes against the back of your neck, how his hands don’t leave, how they hold you just a little too long, just a little too firmly, and it’s enough to send your heart racing, but you’re not sure if it’s from excitement or something else. Maybe both.

The room is still. Time moves slower, every second stretching, every minute feeling like an eternity. The sound of gunfire is distant, as though it’s happening in another reality, another world. Here, in this quiet space, it’s just the two of you—too close, but not close enough.

You exhale, steadying your grip on the gun. Your finger hovers just above the trigger, the barrel aligned perfectly with the target ahead. But his proximity—his presence at your back—is an unspoken challenge.

It’s not just the warmth of him, the quiet pressure of his body against yours. It’s the weight of the moment, the tension crackling in the air between you.

He’s always been gentle, careful. He’s the kind of person who checks his words before he speaks, who hesitates when he’s unsure. But this? This is different.

There’s something in the way he’s so still behind you, the way his hands linger a moment too long, the way his breath feels too close, as though it might be the only thing keeping you grounded in the chaos of it all.

You tilt your head slightly, testing the waters. Your voice comes out softer than you intend, a hint of amusement lacing the words, but there’s an edge to them too, a challenge that you can’t quite hide. "Are you going to move?"

A beat of silence passes—just long enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze on your profile, his chest still barely touching your back. You don’t move, don’t shift away, and neither does he.

Then, his voice, low and knowing, rolls over your ear. "Do you want me to?"

It’s the simplest question, but it hangs in the air like a dare, like an invitation to either pull away or give in. And you don’t answer. You can’t—not yet. Instead, you focus, breathing in slow and steady, and pull the trigger.

The shot rings out, loud and sharp in the stillness of the range. But Spencer doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move an inch. He stands there, unmoved, his focus unwavering.

When you finally lower the gun, your breath a little more ragged than usual, his smirk is almost imperceptible, but you see it—just a hint of something smug playing at the corners of his lips.

“Better,” he says, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction. There’s something oddly triumphant in the way he speaks, like he’s been waiting for you to finally break, to give in to the moment.

You unload your weapon, the click of the magazine echoing in the space between you. And just as you’re about to reholster the gun, Spencer steps back—just enough to give you space, but not enough to fully erase the tension still simmering between you two.

But before he moves completely away, he brushes past you, just barely—his fingers ghosting over your wrist in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s light, fleeting, but the contact lingers, like a promise he hasn’t quite made yet.

“Can we—catch some dinner? Before you head home?” he murmurs, the words soft, almost shy.

For a moment, everything seems to slow down. The confident, unshakable Spencer Reid from moments ago has vanished, replaced by the quiet, nervous man you’ve come to know—a Spencer who’s unsure, who hesitates when it matters most. His question hangs in the air, and the weight of it feels somehow heavier than any case file or statistical analysis.

You don’t answer immediately, taking a breath, letting the silence stretch just a little longer. But you know what you’re going to say. Of course you know.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, your voice quieter than before, but there’s no mistaking the warmth that slips into your tone. “Dinner sounds good,”

[evermoreness]

moonlight and mending pt.7 | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you and remus are definitely a couple, just not officially yet.

obs: this is part seven of a series. here's part one.

masterlist

James was the first to bring it up. Naturally.

“So, Moony," he started, plopping onto his bed dramatically, "are we just gonna pretend you didn’t finally kiss her, or…?"

Remus, who had been peacefully reading a book, sighed and closed it with a soft thud. "I was really hoping you’d all have better things to do than meddle in my love life."

Sirius grinned from his bed, arms folded behind his head. "Oh, Remus, darling, you vastly underestimate our commitment to making your life miserable."

Peter snickered, eyes wide with curiosity. "So, how was it?"

James leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a smug glint in his eyes. "Yeah, tell us, Moony. Did she completely sweep you off your feet?"

Remus rolled his eyes, but the slight redness in his ears betrayed him. "You lot are unbearable."

"You like us unbearable," Sirius said, smirking. "Now, spill. Who kissed who first?"

"Moony definitely got kissed first," James declared confidently. "He’s a coward."

"Hey," Remus protested, glaring at James.

Peter frowned. "But wait, if she kissed him first, does that really count as his first kiss? Maybe he still hasn’t technically had one."

"Merlin, Wormtail, what kind of logic is that?" Sirius laughed.

James waved them both off. "Alright, alright, so who kissed who?"

Remus exhaled heavily, rubbing his face. There was no escaping this.

"I kissed her first," he admitted.

A beat of silence. Then—

"OH, YOU DOG!" Sirius howled, practically rolling off his bed in excitement.

"That’s my boy!" James cheered, slapping his knee.

Peter’s mouth fell open. "Wait—you kissed her?!"

Remus sighed. "Yes, Wormtail, that’s generally how kissing works."

Sirius grinned. "I have never been prouder of you, Moony. What happened to all that self-doubt and hesitation?"

James wiggled his eyebrows. "Guess love makes a bold man out of you."

"Right, sure, love," Remus muttered, grabbing his book again, but there was no hiding the tiny, pleased smile tugging at his lips.

Sirius caught it immediately. "Oh, look at him! All smug and in love."

"I’m not—"

"Do you think about her before you sleep?" James interrupted.

"Do you see her and just start smiling for no reason?" Peter added.

"Do you miss her the second she’s not around?" Sirius smirked.

Remus groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I hate all of you."

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh no, James, he’s deflecting! It must be true love!"

James pretended to wipe a tear. "Our little Moony’s all grown up."

"Merlin, just kill me now," Remus mumbled, throwing a pillow at Sirius’s face.

Sirius caught the pillow with ease, grinning like a madman. “Oh, Moony, you can’t escape this. You kissed her. The girl you’ve been pining over for ages.”

“I have not been pining,” Remus grumbled, reopening his book.

James scoffed. “Mate. You stare at her like she hung the bloody stars.”

Remus’ grip on the pages tightened. “I do not.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You kinda do.”

“Definitely,” Sirius agreed. “It’s disgusting, really.” He sighed dramatically. “Our poor, lovesick Moony. All doe-eyed and smitten.”

James smirked. “I bet he’s still thinking about it.”

“I am not—” Remus started, but unfortunately, his traitorous brain chose that exact moment to betray him.

The way you had looked at him before he kissed you—soft and certain, as if you’d been waiting for it. The warmth of your hands in his hair, the way you sighed against his lips. The little, breathless laugh after, teasing but affectionate—

Merlin.

He was smiling.

James let out a gasp. “HE’S THINKING ABOUT IT!”

Sirius groaned. “Ugh, he definitely is. Look at that stupid grin.”

Peter tilted his head. “Kind of sweet, though.”

Remus snapped his book shut again, face burning. “That’s enough out of all of you.”

James waggled his eyebrows. “But Moony, you haven’t told us the best part yet.”

Remus sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, Prongs, if you—”

James ignored him completely. “Was there tongue?”

Sirius collapsed in laughter. Peter’s eyes widened.

Remus ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up a bit. "No, i refuse to answer this"

“Aw, come on, Moony, we’re just asking questions!” Sirius teased. “It’s not every day our favorite bookish werewolf finally mans up and kisses the girl.”

Remus groaned . “I regret everything.”

“You regret nothing,” James corrected. “Because you kissed her, and you liked it.”

Remus sighed, lifting his head to glare at them. “Are you quite done?”

Sirius smirked. “That depends. When are you kissing her again?”

James caught the way Remus hesitated. “Ohhh. You’re already thinking about it.”

Peter beamed. “That means you really like her!”

“I always liked her,” Remus muttered, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Moony, that’s not a problem. That’s called having feelings. Normal people have them. You just happen to be terrible at handling yours.”

James clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, mate. And when you do, you can count on us to be right here—”

“—Mocking you every step of the way,” Sirius finished with a grin.

Remus sighed. “Of course you will.”

And despite himself—despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment—he smiled.

Because, honestly?

He didn’t regret a thing.

Not a single thing.

Not ashamed.

The sun was shining lazily over the courtyard, the soft hum of students chatting filling the air. James, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and you were all sitting together on the grass, laughing over some ridiculous story Sirius was telling.

"And then," Sirius continued, eyes glinting mischievously, "James actually tried to flirt with McGonagall—"

"It was a dare!" James interrupted, looking indignant.

"You told her her animagus form was the most beautiful feline you’d ever seen," Peter wheezed, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard.

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t help grinning. "Honestly, I can’t believe I’m dating you."

James turned to her with a dazzling smile. "Well, Evans, you had the chance to resist, and yet—" He gestured between them smugly. "Here we are."

"Tragic, really," Lily sighed dramatically, leaning against him.

Just then, a familiar figure approached you.

Remus.

He looked more relaxed than usual, a soft, sleepy expression on his face, as if he had just woken up from a nap. His light brown hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and there was something undeniably warm about him as he made his way toward you.

Without hesitation, he let his arm slip around your waist, pulling you closer. The action was so easy, so natural, that it didn’t even seem like something he had thought twice about.

It was progress.

You turned your head slightly and pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips. It was instinctive now—like second nature.

That was enough for the group to lose their minds.

"OH, COME ON!" James practically shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

"RIGHT IN FRONT OF US?!" Sirius added dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were personally offended.

Peter was giggling like a child. "Did you see that? He just—he just walked in and—Merlin’s beard, Moony’s unstoppable!"

Lily, ever the voice of reason, simply smirked. "Well, it was adorable," she said matter-of-factly. "And you lot are just jealous."

"Jealous? Jealous?!" James scoffed, looking at Remus with exaggerated betrayal. "Moony, you used to be the quiet, nervous one! My reliable, awkward mate! And now—now you’re just kissing your girl like it’s the most casual thing in the world!"

Sirius nudged him, grinning. "Not so awkward anymore, huh?"

Remus, who had been unfazed until now, simply shrugged. "I don’t see the issue," he said, voice calm and composed, though the slight pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

James pointed aggressively. "THERE. THERE IT IS."

"What?"

"That confidence! Who are you? What have you done with my shy, self-deprecating friend?!"

You laughed, leaning slightly into Remus’s side. "You really didn’t expect me to have this effect on him?"

Sirius snorted. "Oh, no, we definitely expected it. We just didn’t think he’d embrace it so well."

Remus huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You lot are insufferable."

"But you love us," Peter said with a grin.

Remus glanced at you, a small, private smile playing on his lips. Then, ever so casually, he kissed the side of your head.

The group erupted.

"OH, THAT’S IT! HE’S GONE! WE’VE LOST HIM!" James groaned, pretending to fall back onto the grass.

"I love this version of Moony," Sirius declared, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "Look at you. All affectionate and in love."

Lily nudged James. "We should take notes, really. They’re disgustingly adorable."

James raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Evans, we’re the epitome of romance. Our dynamic is legendary."

She hummed. "Mm, sure, Potter. Keep telling yourself that."

Remus made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, looking absolutely mortified.

You, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying his suffering. "You could just let go of me if it’s so embarrassing," you teased.

Remus immediately shook his head. "No. I—I’m fine."

James and Sirius exchanged knowing looks.

You leaned in slightly, voice quieter now, just for him. "You’re getting used to it, aren’t you?"

Remus exhaled slowly, trying to will away the heat in his face. "I think so."

You smiled, letting your fingers brush lightly against his wrist. "Good."

And despite the relentless teasing, despite his bright red face, despite the fact that he was very much not used to being this open with affection—Remus found himself not minding at all.

Because you were worth it.

Every single second of it.

Say it again.

The days passed, and something changed—something small but noticeable.

Remus was getting used to all of it. The way you would lean into his side, the way you’d lace your fingers together absentmindedly, the way you would press quick kisses to his cheek when he was deep in a book. At first, it had flustered him beyond words, but now? Now he just expected it.

And he had started to return it, in his own soft, hesitant way.

It was late afternoon, and you were tucked away in your usual spot beneath the large oak tree by the Black Lake. You had your legs stretched out over his lap, flipping through a book, while he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the fabric of your sleeve.

“Rem,” you called suddenly, looking up from your book.

“Mhm?”

“I have a very important question,” you said seriously, closing the book and resting it on your stomach.

Remus quirked an eyebrow, already amused. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You took a dramatic breath. “If you had to fight one of the Marauders in a duel, life or death, who would you pick?”

Remus snorted. “That’s your important question?”

“Yes, and you have to answer.”

He hummed, pretending to think it over. “Peter.”

You gasped. “Poor Peter!”

Remus just smirked. “He’d understand. It’s about survival, love.”

And just like that—your entire expression lit up.

It took him half a second to realize what had just come out of his mouth.

His eyes widened slightly.

Oh.

Oh, bloody hell.

He hadn’t meant to say it. It had just… slipped.

But before he could even begin to panic, you were already beaming at him, eyes shining with something soft and excited.

"What did you just call me?" You asked, your voice teasing but also way too happy.

Remus groaned, tilting his head back against the tree. "Nothing."

You poked his side. "Not nothing. Say it again."

"No."

You sat up straight, moving closer, your knees pressing against his thigh. “Remus.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, but he couldn’t stop the small smile forming at the corner of his lips. "I didn’t even mean to say it."

"But you did," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "And I liked it."

That made him pause. He hesitated. “You... do?”

You nodded eagerly, practically radiating happiness. “Call me that again.”

Remus let out a breath, glancing away like he was debating it. But when he looked back at you—so earnest, so full of joy over something so simple—he found himself softening completely.

“Alright, love,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper.

And you immediately cupped his face and kissed him.

Remus froze for half a second before he melted into it, his hands finding their way to your waist instinctively. Your lips were warm, soft, and you kissed him with so much affection that it made his head spin.

When you finally pulled back, you were still grinning. “I’m keeping that one.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

You gave him another small, quick peck on his lips, squeezing his face. "Good. Because you’re stuck with me now, love."

And this time—this time, he was the one beaming.

“So,” you drawled, leaning into his side with a smug little smirk, “was that your grand confession, then? Calling me love in the middle of planning Peter’s hypothetical demise?”

Remus groaned, tipping his head back against the tree. “If I say yes, will you stop bringing it up?”

“Not a chance, love”

He sighed, rubbing his face, but there was no real frustration behind it. Just warmth—something that curled deep in his chest and refused to leave.

You tilted your head, watching him with that knowing glint in your eyes. “You know, if you wanted to confess properly, you could just say—”

Remus cut you off with a kiss, his fingers slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. He could feel your surprised inhale against his lips, but you recovered quickly, smiling into the kiss as your hands curled into the front of his sweater.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he huffed out a quiet laugh. “Happy now?”

You blinked up at him, dazed but delighted. “I mean… yeah. But now I think you just like kissing me.”

Remus smirked. “Maybe I do.”

Your grin was immediate. “Well, well, well. Looks like someone is getting bolder.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could feel the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on your waist. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Kissing me. Calling me love.” you nudged his nose with yours, your voice teasing but soft. “Admit it, Rem. You’re completely smitten.”

Remus exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Merlin help me.”

“Oh, come on,” you pressed. “Say it. Say, ‘I, Remus Lupin, am completely—’”

Remus shut you up with another kiss. Longer this time, slower. Enough to wipe that teasing little smirk right off your face.

By the time he pulled away, you were breathless.

“Alright,” you mumbled, still a little dazed. “That’s a very unfair way to win an argument.”

Remus just grinned. “But effective.”

You huffed, trying and failing to look unimpressed. “I’m onto you, Remus”

“Good,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Wouldn’t want you missing anything.”

You sighed dramatically, settling back into his side. “You really like me.”

Remus chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, love” he admitted quietly. “I really do.”

And maybe, just maybe, he was okay with that.

An unofficial couple.

Time passed, and it was obvious to everyone—even if neither of you had officially said anything—that you acted like a couple.

Remus had gotten used to your presence in his life, in his space, in his arms. It was natural now, the way you fit into him like you belonged there.

It was late one evening in the library. Most students had already cleared out, leaving only a few scattered at desks. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a book open on your lap, and Remus stretched out beside you, his head resting on your thigh.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair as you read, and he sighed softly, melting into your touch.

“You’re ridiculously comfortable,” Remus muttered, eyes closed.

You smirked. “You say that like you didn’t voluntarily make me your pillow.”

“Mhm,” he hummed sleepily. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

You laughed, flipping a page. “You do realize that if James or Sirius saw you like this, you’d never hear the end of it?”

Remus cracked an eye open. “I’m aware, darling.”

“And yet, here you are.”

He reached up lazily, catching your free hand and intertwining your fingers. “What can I say? I like being comfortable.”

You squeezed his hand, grinning. “You like me.”

Remus groaned dramatically, covering his face with his arm. “And you like reminding me.”

“Because it’s cute,” you teased, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

His face went pink, but he didn’t move away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Remus just grumbled something under his breath but didn’t let go of your hand.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in warmth and quiet laughter.

As the library started to empty completely, a soft hush settled around you. You continued reading, your fingers still idly playing with Remus’s hair, and he let himself relax entirely, eyes shut, listening to the gentle cadence of your voice as you quietly narrated a passage.

“You know,” you murmured after a while, shifting slightly beneath him, “I’m starting to think you only keep me around for free head massages.”

Remus huffed a laugh, cracking an eye open to look up at you. “That’s absolutely not true.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

He smirked lazily. “You’re also very warm.”

You gasped in mock offense, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Unbelievable. I knew it.”

Still grinning, Remus caught your hand before you could pull away and laced your fingers together again. “Alright, alright. Maybe I also keep you around because you’re nice to look at.”

That made you pause. You blinked down at him, surprised, and Remus only realized what he’d said when he saw the teasing sparkle in your eyes.

“Oh?” you grinned. “So you do like looking at me?”

His face went bright red. “That’s not—”

“Oh, no, no,” you interrupted, clearly enjoying this. “Please, do go on. What exactly do you like looking at?”

Remus groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “Merlin, why do I even speak?”

You laughed, shifting to press a kiss to his cheek. “I like looking at you, too, you know.”

His breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

The moment lingered, softer now, a quiet warmth settling between them.

Then, you glanced at the library clock. “We should probably go before Madam Pince throws us out.”

Remus sighed dramatically, still not making any effort to move. “But getting up requires effort.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was fondness in your smile. “Fine. You can stay there. But I’m leaving.”

You made a move to stand up, but Remus instinctively tightened his grip on your hand, stopping you.

“…Wait.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Yes?”

“…Five more minutes?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Remus Lupin, you are the clingiest person I’ve ever met.”

Remus groaned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“I’m not complaining, love”

“…You better not be.”

You just smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his forehead. “Fine. Five more minutes.”

And Remus, despite knowing the teasing he’d get from James and Sirius later, let himself stay.

The five minutes turned into ten. Then fifteen. Neither of you seemed in any rush to leave, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

Remus was now seated by your side, head on your shoulders, reading whatever was that you were reading.

Remus sighed contentedly, eyes still shut as you continued running your fingers through his hair. The feeling was addicting—soothing in a way he never realized he needed.

“You’re going to fall asleep on me,” you whispered, amused.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he murmured, barely opening his eyes.

You hummed, considering. “Not at all.” your voice was softer now, almost thoughtful. “I like being close to you.”

Remus opened his eyes fully this time, tilting his head to look at you. Something in your expression made his heart stutter—you looked peaceful, content, but there was something else, something gentle and adoring in the way you gazed down at him.

His fingers curled slightly around yours. “I like being close to you too,” he admitted, voice quiet but certain.

A small, pleased smile tugged at your lips. “Good,” you whispered.

You leaned before he could think too much about it, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was barely there, just a whisper of a touch, but it sent warmth flooding through him all the same.

Remus barely had time to react before you pressed another kiss, this time fully on his lips. Slow, lingering, infinitely tender.

His breath caught, his free hand coming to gently rest at your waist, as if grounding himself in the moment. You kissed him like you had all the time in the world—like he was something precious, something worth savoring.

And, Merlin help him, he wanted to stay in this moment forever.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, he could still feel the ghost of your smile against his lips.

“I think I might be in trouble,” he whispered, voice dazed.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your nose against his. “Why’s that?”

Remus swallowed, searching for words, but all he could focus on was the way you were looking at him. Like he was something worth holding onto.

“…Because I don’t think I’ll ever want to let go,” he admitted, voice barely above a breath.

You exhaled softly, your fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “Then don’t,” she murmured simply.

And with that, you kissed him again, and Remus knew—without a doubt—he never would.

Tracing scars.

The common room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the fireplace. Most students had gone to bed, leaving just the two of you curled up together on the couch. You were tucked against his side, your fingers idly tracing circles on the back of his hand as he held it in his lap.

Remus sighed contentedly, watching the fire flicker, feeling utterly at peace. These moments with you—these quiet, comfortable spaces where he didn’t have to be anything but himself—meant more to him than he could ever put into words.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured, tilting your head up to look at him with a small smile.

Remus huffed a soft laugh, his fingers brushing gently through your hair. “Can you blame me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue, instead shifting closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Your fingers traced up his arm absentmindedly, skimming over the fabric of his sweater before moving to his jawline, where they brushed over the scar that ran across his face.

He stiffened slightly, always unprepared for the way you didn’t recoil. How you didn’t flinch or hesitate. How you touched his scars like they were just part of him—nothing to be ashamed of.

You had done this before, and each time, it left him torn between wanting to lean into your touch or run away.

Your thumb traced the scar slowly. “I love this one,” you murmured.

Remus swallowed. “You what?”

You smiled, shifting so you could look him properly in the eyes. “I love it. It makes you look… strong. And distinguished. And incredibly handsome.”

His face went bright red. “Merlin, you can’t just say things like that.”

You laughed, pressing your lips to the scar in question. “I just did.”

Remus sucked in a breath, heart doing ridiculous flips in his chest. “Dove…”

You beamed at the pet name, and Remus found himself smiling helplessly. It had started as something he’d said without thinking, but now, he couldn’t stop. It just fit you so well.

You kissed along the scar, trailing soft pecks down his jaw, your lips unbearably gentle. Remus melted under your touch, torn between letting you continue and pulling away before he completely lost himself.

His hand found its way into your hair, fingers weaving through the strands as he let out a breathy chuckle. “You really like doing that, don’t you?”

You hummed. “Mm-hmm. I like all of them.”

Remus swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t.”

You frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Why not?”

“…Because they’re ugly.” His voice was quiet, but there was an undeniable sadness behind it.

Your expression softened, your hand coming up to cradle his cheek as you held his gaze. "Remus," you whispered, your voice full of warmth, of certainty. "They’re not ugly. Not to me."

His breath hitched, his grip on your tightening just slightly as he struggled to find the right words. He wasn’t used to this—to someone looking at him like he was worth something more than his scars, more than his condition.

You traced his jawline again, slower this time, like you were memorizing every inch of him. "They tell a story," you continued, your fingers brushing over the faded lines with reverence. "They tell your story. And I love every part of it. Every part of you."

Remus felt something in his chest tighten—something raw and fragile, something he wasn’t sure how to hold without breaking. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath, before pressing his forehead to yours.

"You make it so bloody difficult to keep my head straight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, nudging your nose against his. "Then stop trying so hard."

And then you kissed him. Slow and tender, like you had all the time in the world. Like you were trying to prove your words with every brush of your lips against his.

Remus melted instantly, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he kissed you back, his heart pounding so hard he was sure you could feel it. You shifted, pressing closer, your arms wrapping around him as if you never wanted to let go.

He let himself sink into it, let himself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to have this. To have you.

When they finally pulled apart, you stayed close, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you gazed up at him with so much love it made his chest ache.

"Do you believe me now?" You whispered.

Remus exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He still wasn’t sure he deserved it, but looking at you now, at the sheer certainty in your eyes, he knew one thing for certain.

"I’m trying," he murmured.

You smiled, pressing one last lingering kiss to his lips. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere."

And for the first time in a long, long while, Remus let himself believe that was true.

Returning favours.

The days passed, and Remus couldn’t help but notice how busy you had been lately. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend time in the hospital wing—you always loved helping Madam Pomfrey—but now, it was excessive. You would disappear for hours, only to reappear looking even more exhausted than before. When you weren’t in the hospital wing, you were in your dorm, completely absorbed in whatever you were working on, books scattered around you like a fortress.

And the strangest part? You weren’t telling him what you were up to.

Remus didn’t like to pry. He never pushed people to talk about things they weren’t ready to share. You hadn’t pushed him when you first found out about his condition, hadn’t demanded answers or treated him any differently. You had just stayed—and he would do the same for you.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the exhaustion in your eyes.

Remus had caught you dozing off during class more than once, your head resting on your folded arms. You had been asking him strange, specific questions lately, too.

“So… when you transform, do you still recognize people?”

Remus had blinked at you. “No. Not at all. Why?”

You had shrugged, writing something down in your notes. “Just curious.”

Another time:

“Do you think—hypothetically—a potion could help you keep your mind during the full moon?”

Remus had tilted his head. “Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

He had chuckled. “Hypothetically, maybe… but there’s never been a potion like that.”

You had hummed thoughtfully, scribbling more notes.

Remus wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were up to something. But if you wanted to tell him, you would.

You weren’t sleeping. You weren’t eating properly. You were so caught up in whatever you were doing that you were completely neglecting yourself.

It reminded him of how you took care of him after every full moon—staying up all night, watching over him, tending to his wounds. But now, you were the one who needed looking after.

And Remus wasn’t about to let you fall apart.

He found you in the common room late that evening, curled up in the corner of the couch, a book open on your lap. You were trying to study, but your head kept dipping forward, your eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again.

Remus sighed, sitting down beside you. “Dove.”

You hummed absentmindedly, not looking up. “Mm?”

“You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

Remus reached forward, gently shutting the book in your lap. “No, you’re not.”

You finally looked at him, your lips parting as if you were about to protest. But you saw the concern in his eyes—the way he was watching you so carefully, so gently—and you let out a small sigh instead. “I just have a lot to do.”

“You always have a lot to do,” Remus said softly. “But you can’t pour from an empty cup, love.”

You blinked at the pet name, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s a very poetic way of telling me I look like death.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t look like death. But you do look like you’re about to pass out, and I’m not going to just sit here and watch it happen.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I can’t rest yet, Remus. I still need to—”

“You need to sleep.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, shifting closer. “Come here.”

You hesitated for a moment before Remus reached out, gently tugging you towards him. You let out a small huff, but you didn’t resist, letting yourself be pulled into his arms.

Remus adjusted you so that you were nestled against his chest, your legs draped over his lap. His hand came up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“There,” he murmured. “That’s better.”

You let out a small sigh, your body slowly relaxing against his. “…You’re being very affectionate today.”

Remus hummed. “You always take care of me, darling. Let me take care of you for once.”

You smiled softly, burying your face against his neck. “I like when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Soft.”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m always soft with you.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s nice.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, Remus rubbing small circles on your back. He could feel your breathing even out, your body sinking further into his hold.

“Dove?” he murmured after a while.

“Mhm?”

“You haven’t eaten much today either.”

You groaned. “Remus—”

“No arguing,” he cut in, a teasing lilt in his voice. “If you’re going to be this stubborn, I’ll just have to feed you myself.”

You snorted. “I’d love to see you try.”

Remus smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”

You lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes soft but amused. “You really care, huh?”

Remus brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “Of course, I do.”

Something flickered in your eyes at that, and your leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Remus melted. He always did.

You let out a content sigh, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll eat something. And I’ll sleep.”

Remus grinned. “Good girl.”

You swatted his arm playfully, but you were smiling.

And as Remus held you close, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing, he felt something settle inside of him—something warm, something safe.

Maybe he had spent so much of his life believing that he didn’t deserve this kind of tenderness. But with you in his arms, he was beginning to think that maybe… just maybe… he did.

—— 🌙 ——

A note from the author:

Hello lovelies!

They are finally being a disgustingly cute couple!

A little spoiler for the next chapter: It's gonna be Remus' turn to take care of her as much as she took care of him!

Did you notice that she is brewing a Wolfsbane potion? It is a very difficult one, and she's doing it all for him!

Hope you guys are liking it! Each of your comments makes me smile. 🤍

See you soon!

Taglist: @iloveremmy @jjamjamie @breakawayfromeveryday @oursweetmoony @whimsical-mistakes @froggiedragon @sophie-0012 @deathmybride @nerdbirdsworld @wolfstarsprongs @mischievousmoony @httpvomitello @msfandomsblog @starofthedawn @malenk @diiyaa @theonyxstate @waitforiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit @theredvelvetbitch @ohheyitsrowan @a1ienmush @michtellch (If you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[haerenven]

        ₊　˙　 　⢷          ˚   ͙✦.         whiplash .

Pairings. M.D.Luffy- R.Zoro- P.D.Ace - T.Law - shanks

summary. Short hair girly.

— (a/n): request!, I really love this idea cause I was pixie hair girly in some point of my life (‘. • ᵕ •. `)

Monkey D Luffy

• Luffy is fascinated from the start. “Whoa!” he exclaims the first time he sees you. ���Your hair’s so short! That’s awesome!”

• He immediately reaches out to pat your head like you’re the softest, most interesting thing in the world. and when you bat his hands away, he just laughs. “But it looks so fun to touch!”

• He adores how unique it makes you. To him, it’s not just hair—it’s you, and that makes it special.

• There’s something endearing about how blunt he is about it. “I like it. It makes your face look happy!” It’s such a simple, childlike way of thinking, but it makes you smile anyway.

• He loves to play with your hair absentmindedly—sometimes when he’s talking to you, sometimes when he’s just lazing around, his fingers twirling a stray strand. It’s never calculated, never flirtatious—just pure, unfiltered affection.

• If you ever feel self-conscious about it, or If you ever say you miss having long hair, Luffy will tilt his head, confused. “But this is how you are, right?” he says, as if that should be the most obvious thing in the world. “And I like you like this.”

Roronoa Zoro

• Zoro doesn’t notice your hair at first. Not because he’s oblivious, but because things like hair length isn’t register as high on his list of priorities. But one day, he really looks at you—sees how the shorter strands frame your face, how the style suits your sharp gaze, your effortless confidence—and something about it tugs at him in a way he can’t explain.

• He never says it out loud, but he likes how practical it is. You’re not constantly pushing it out of your face, and it never gets in the way. Efficient, No fuss, no unnecessary distractions. Just like you. Just like him.

• When you’re standing side by side, he’ll catch himself staring, though he always looks away before you can call him out on it.

• If someone ever makes a comment—something thoughtless, something meant to imply that short hair is less feminine—Zoro will shut it down instantly, his voice flat, his glare sharp. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll spread your head out of your body” And just like that, the conversation ends.

• He’s not the kind for casual touches, but sometimes—when he’s half-asleep, when the world is quiet—his hand will find the back of your head, fingers grazing your hair in a rare moment of softness. He won’t say anything about it. He won’t need to.

• He won’t outright admit it, but he likes how easy it is to tilt your chin up and kiss you—no stray strands getting in the way, your lips on his—and that’s it.

Portgas D Ace

• “Damn,” is the first thing Ace says when he meets you. It’s low, almost breathless, like you’ve just knocked the air straight out of his lungs. “I think I’m in love.”

• He’s always been drawn to things that burn bright—things wild and unpredictable, things that feel like freedom. And there’s something about you, about the way you carry yourself, about the way your hair catches the firelight, that makes him want to chase after you.

• He loves the way your short hair makes every expression bolder, sharper. When you laugh, it makes you look even more mischievous. When you glare, it makes you look untouchable. And Ace? He loves a challenge.

• Constantly finds an excuse to touch your hair—Running his fingers through it, ruffling it like you’re a kid, tugging playfully at a strand, resting his chin on your head like you’re his personal pillow. “Soft,” he murmurs, as if it’s some great discovery.

• Calls you every nickname under the sun: “sparky,” “shortcake,” “firecracker.” The more you roll your eyes, the more determined he is to find new ones.

• “Y’know,” he says one night, voice softer than usual, “I like that I can see your face like this. No hiding. Just you.” And there’s something in his eyes, something warm and unguarded, that makes you realize he means it.

Trafalgar d water Law

• Law is quiet the first time he sees you. Not unimpressed, not indifferent—just observing, those sharp eyes of his taking in every detail. “Hnn,” he says at last, nodding slightly. “It suits you.”

• He’s not one for unnecessary compliments, but the fact that he acknowledges it at all means something.

• But later, when he thinks you’re not looking, you’ll catch his gaze lingering, something almost amused in his expression. He likes the way your hair frames your face, how it highlights the sharp intelligence in your eyes.

• You’ll catch him staring sometimes, though he’s always quick to look away. If you ever call him out on it, he’ll scoff. “You’re imagining things.” But the slight pink on his ears tells a different story.

• He appreciates the practicality of it. No strands falling into your face during fights, no unnecessary fuss. It’s efficient. And Law values efficiency.

• If you ever express doubt—if you ever wonder aloud whether you should grow it out—he’ll glance at you, expression unreadable, before saying simply, “Don’t change it.” And that’s all he’ll say.

• But later, when you’re resting beside him, when the world is quiet and his guard is down, you’ll feel his fingers ghosting over the back of your neck, tracing absent patterns along your hairline. He won’t say anything about it. He doesn’t have to.

• But if you ever run your hands through your hair in frustration, tiredness, or thought? He’ll watch, transfixed, before clearing his throat and looking away.

Red-haired Shanks

• The first time Shanks sees you, his eyes linger—not just on your hair but on the way it makes you stand out. There’s something wild about it, untamed like the sea, and it suits you.

• Shanks notices everything about you in that lazy, deceptively perceptive way of his. The cut of your hair, the way the sea breeze plays with it, how the sun catches in the strands. His gaze lingers—not just in admiration, but in curiosity, like you’re some beautiful puzzle he’s eager to figure out.

• He has a habit of reaching for you, fingers always finding their way to the nape of your neck, ruffling your hair like he’s testing how much he can get away with. When you glare at him, he just chuckles, utterly unrepentant. “What? It’s soft,” he says, as if that explains everything.

• He loves running his fingers through your short locks, ruffling them playfully before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Cute,” he hums, grinning when you swat his hand away.

• He teases you about it constantly. “Y’know, you remind me of a mischievous little fairy.” But there’s an unmistakable fondness in his voice.

• The crew loves you almost as much as he does. Lucky Roux teases that you must have been a rogue wind spirit in another life, while Yasopp claims your hair makes you look sharper, like a blade that’s just been honed.

• Shanks finds himself watching you when you’re not looking, the way your hair shifts with every tilt of your head, the way it moves when you laugh. He doesn’t just admire you—he memorizes you, drinks you in like the finest sake, and finds himself craving more.

• “You’re trouble, you know that?” he murmurs one evening, arms draped lazily around you, fingers playing with your hair as if he’s always meant to have you this close. “And I like trouble.”

• When you’re out at sea, he watches the wind tousle your hair and thinks you look like you belong nowhere else but here—with him, with the ocean.

[blairenqs]

୨୧ STILL YOURS ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH you can’t handle spencers’ absence in your relationship anymore, bringing hidden feelings to the surface !

𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍-𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇!𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝟣.𝟤𝖪 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 :( ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

LATE NIGHTS WITH SPENCER had always been one your favourite things in the world.

before, they were a sanctuary—the time when the harsh world grew quiet, and spencer would finally relax.

you’d curl your body into his, his long arms wrapping around you as he read from whatever book he’d been immersed in that week, his voice soft and gentle.

sometimes he would hum under his breath, the melody low and off key, and you’d tease him, earning one of his soft laughs that you cherished so close to your heart.

but those nights felt like a distant memory now.

it has been weeks since spencer came home, and everything had changed. prison left its mark on him, now jagged edges where there had once been softness. —READ MORE!

he still looked like spencer—the same deep brown eyes, same nervousness when he felt out of place—but the spark that used to light him from within was gone.

and you didn’t know how to bring it back.

you tried—god, you tried so hard. you were patient when he flinched at the sound of loud voices, when his hands trembled as he reached for a glass of water.

you didn’t comment on the fact that he spent hours of his day staring out the window, his gaze unpresent, as if he were somewhere else entirely. you told yourself it would get better, that he just needed time.

but unfortunately, time wasn’t healing anything.

the worst part was how he wouldn’t let you touch him. you would reach for his hand, and he’d pull away, his movements were constantly on guard, almost panicked.

if you tried to kiss him, he would turn his face at the last second, leaving your lips to brush against his cheek or miss him entirely.

even lying beside him in bed, there was a brick wall between you—a void and so wide it felt impossible to cross.

tonight wasn’t any different.

you laid on your side, staring at his back—his breathing was slow and even, the rhythm that used to bring you to sleep.

but now, all it did was remind you how far away he felt, even when he was right there. you turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling. the ache in your chest was torturous, pressing down until it was hard to breathe.

you blinked rapidly, in attempt to will the tears away, but they came anyway, hot and bitter as they slipped down your cheeks.

you tried to stay quiet—spencer was finally asleep, and you didn’t want to wake him up. but the tears wouldn’t stop, and the sob building in your throat clawed its way out, a small, broken sound that you immediately regretted.

beside you, spencer stirred.

you instantly froze, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would undo the noise you’d made—the bed creaked as he turned toward you, and then his voice came, soft and raspy from his slumber.

“y/n?”

you didn’t answer, hoping he might think he imagined it, but his hand brushed your shoulder—hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him touch you.

“are—are you crying?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

the question pained you. a fresh wave of tears spilled over, and you turned your face into the pillow, trying to smother the sound.

“y/n,” he said again, more insistent and panicked now. he sat up, his shadow falling over you as his hand came to rest on your arm. “my love—please talk to me.”

you shook your head, your breath hitching as you tried to pull away. “it’s nothing,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed you with its tremble. “just go back to sleep, spence.”

but spencer didn’t move. you felt him watching you, the weight of his gaze heavy and thick. then slowly, he laid back down, his hand sliding off your arm.

you thought he had given up, that he decided to let it go. but instead, his arms came around you, pulling you gently into his chest.

“talk to me,” he said again, his voice softer, almost pleading. “please.”

at first—you resisted, your body stiff and trembling in his hold. but then his hand started moving, his fingers tracing small, soothing patterns on your back, and the tenderness of it all broke through your defenses.

“i don’t know what to do anymore,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “you won’t talk to me. you won’t let me touch you. it’s like you’re not even here, spencer. and i don’t know how much longer i can—” your voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence dissolved into broken sobs.

spencer’s arms tightened around you, his breath hitching against your hair. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “i’m so sorry.”

“you keep saying that,” you said, pulling back just enough to look at him. “but it doesn’t change anything. i need to know—do you even love me anymore?”

the question seemed to shatter something in him completely. his face crumpled, and tears welled in his eyes as he stared at you, stricken by the words.

“of course i love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “i love you more than anything. i could never stop loving you even if i wanted to.”

“then why—” you shook your head, fresh tears glistening down your cheeks. “why do you keep pulling away? why won’t you let me in?”

he closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his face as he exhaled shakily. “because i’m scared,” he whispered, his voice lighter than a feather. “i don’t feel like me anymore. prison—it broke something in me. and i don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“spence…” you reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands. his skin was warm in your palms, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

“you’re not dragging me down,” you said, your voice firm despite the pain in it. “you don’t have to go through this alone. let me help you. please.”

he let out a soft broken sound, his tears falling freely now. “i don’t know how to fix this,” he said as his voice was raw with emotion. “i feel so lost. so—so empty. and i hate that i’ve made you feel like you’re not enough, that you’re not loved, because you are. you’re everything to me, y/n.”

you pulled him close again, your arms wrapping around his neck as he buried his face in your shoulder.

his body shook against yours, the sobs he had been holding back for weeks finally broke free.

for a long time, neither of you said anything. you just held him, your fingers brushing through his hair as his tears soaked into your shirt.

slowly, his breathing evened out, and the tension in his body began to ease. “we’ll figure this out,” you said softly, your voice steady now. “i promise, one step at a time. together.”

he nodded, pulling back just enough to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “thank you,” he whispered, “for not giving up on me.”

“i would never give up on you,” you said, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm.

as you laid back down together, his arms still wrapped around you, the weight in your chest began to lift—for the first time in weeks, it felt like spencer was truly back home with you, not just beside you.

finally—for the first time in weeks, you both fell asleep feeling a little less broken.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. spencer deserved so much better like thinking about everything he went though makes me SO ANGRY !! T-T

[halsteadlover]

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @dandelionfairyyy: Where Jay and reader accidentally hook up, but happen to need to work together so he tries to talk with her about what happened, but she just wants to avoid and forget it. That turns out into a fight, until it bursts out of her like “I am terrified you’ll say it was a one time thing!” With lots of fluff in the end?

• Warnings: curse words, sex (there are just few scenes in the flashback but they are descriptive so READ ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+) and I don’t know what else honestly let me know if I missed any lol

• Word count: 3995.

• A/N: I don’t know what to think about this one to be fair 😭 I hope you’ll like it please give em your feedback if you want! I’m trying to get back to writing so I hope to post as many fics as possible. Love you all ❤️

The sun’s rays hit your eyes through the window’s cracks, making you blink several times.

You looked around.

The unfamiliar ceiling made your senses go on high alert, momentarily disoriented and confused about where you were. You sat up in bed, a single sheet covering your naked body and that was enough to bring back all the memories of last night like a raging river.

You froze, afraid to make any kind of movement or even to turn your gaze to the person lying on that bed next to you. But you didn’t need to see that figure lying with his back to you, also naked.

How the hell did that happen?

How did you end up in bed with Jay Halstead?

Memories after memories of the previous night continued to play over and over in your mind. It was a mess, a complete mess but it was the most beautiful night of your life.

You tried not to cry.

How could you go on after this? How could you work with him and pretend like nothing happened? Pretend you weren’t madly in love with your coworker who you happened to have sex with?

You turned to Jay, noticing with relief he was still asleep, since you weren’t able to face him especially at that moment.

A smile appeared on your lips even though you couldn’t see him as you tried to suppress the desire to get closer to him, to caress his hair, leave kisses on his face, to hug him like you always wanted.

For a moment, a single moment, you let yourself wander in the illusion you two were a couple. That he’d soon wake up and pull you into his arms, preventing you from moving and going anywhere, that eventually you’d get out of bed and make breakfast together, you only wearing one of his shirts, and then getting ready and go to work together.

You let out a sigh and got out of bed, still sore and trying to be as quiet as possible. You quickly got dressed and you casted one last glance at the man who had made you lose your mind so much before leaving, not knowing if you’d ever be able to have this sight again.

That night had changed everything.

You didn’t know how you’d manage to keep your feelings at bay from now on, especially since you two worked together and you couldn’t avoid him forever.

You always had feelings for Jay, ever since you had joined the team. You had established a deep relationship from the beginning and, given the nature of your work, you found yourselves working together very often and very close. This had led you to often confiding in each other, spending time together, to establish a friendship that inevitably on your part had transformed into something else.

You never had the courage to confess your love, not wanting to risk losing your beautiful friendship. It was important to you, he was one of the most important people of your life, so you did nothing but look at him from afar and imagine a future with him that would never happen.

You immediately dove into work as soon as you arrived at the Unit, trying to keep your mind occupied and not think about Jay and the amazing night you had.

“I want you so fucking much,” he whispered as his lips captured yours in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wrapped around your hips, pulling you as close to his body as possible while your hands were in his hair.

His tongue explored every inch of your mouth as your lips moved in sync, as if this was always meant to be. He pushed you against the wall as his hands roamed every inch of your body he could reach, hungry, longing to touch your skin.

“Oh my god Jay please…” you sighed with pleasure when his lips moved to your neck, making you arch your back as he started sucking and nibbling on a particular spot that was making you lose your mind.

“Yeah baby, I can’t wait to hear you scream for me…”

“Y/n!”.

Kim’s voice brought you back to reality, making you wake up from the memories of the previous night that were haunting your mind.

How could you move on from that? How could you work when everything reminded you of him?

“Huh? What?”.

“I asked you if you wanted coffee?” Kim asked again with an amused tone. “What has you so lost in your thoughts today?”

If only you knew, Kim.

You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, not wanting to give away any clues as to what had happened. The last thing you needed was for the rest of the team to find out you and Jay had sex, since they already didn’t give you a break.

“You two should be together, I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

“You look so cute together such a beautiful couple!”

“How can you say there’s nothing between you and Jay? Have you seen the way that man looks at you? Or the way you look at him? C’mon.”

And this happened almost everyday. Single. Day. And imagine being in love with your coworker and hearing your other coworkers saying this. Let’s just say it wasn’t helpful at all.

You nodded, smiling. “Thanks.”

You got up and went to the break room with her, where you chatted for a bit waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.

When Jay arrived at the Intelligence, a look of disappointment crossed his features as he noticed your jacket hanging on your chair, meaning you were already there.

He couldn’t help but be disappointed and confused, not expecting to not find you the morning after you had sex. He couldn’t suppress the feeling of anxiety that gripped his stomach, having no idea how you’d react and what to expect.

Were you going to pretend nothing happened? Or tell him not to talk to you ever again?

The thought immediately broke his heart and made his insides tighten even more. He didn’t deny what had happened, it had been nothing short of the best night of his life.

He went to the break room, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat as he saw you sipping your coffee and talking to Kim in the meantime. The air suddenly became heavier, almost suffocating as you both pretended the other didn’t exist if it wasn’t for the initial glance you had thrown at each other.

A tight feeling in your stomach made you almost drop the cup from your hands when your eyes fell on him. He was as beautiful as the sun, dressed all in black with a sweater that fit him perfectly and showed off his muscles and a pair of black jeans that fit perfectly around his hips and along his slender legs. Once again, the memory of all the moments spent with him the night before invaded your mind.

Kim was the first to speak to him. “Good morning Jay. There’s some coffee left if you want.”

You used every fiber of your body to divert your attention from him, taking a sip of coffee as you felt your cheeks heat up and get redder with every second that passed.

You were nervous.

You didn’t know how to act and you hated it, you hated not knowing what to do especially with Jay, with one of the closest people to you, the person you were secretly in love with.

But you were just afraid that after sex he’d end it, you were afraid of losing him and your friendship. Because as much as it hurt to just look at him from afar, you would’ve preferred a life of just friendship than not having him in your life at all.

“Oh yeah thanks, I need it after last night,” he replied in a calm tone and hid a smirk when he saw you cough as you choked on your coffee.

Asshole.

Kim chuckled, pouring some coffee into a clean cup and then handing it to Jay, who continued to look at you sideways waiting to get your attention.

“What happened last night?” she asked curiously.

Jay shrugged. “I just didn’t get much sleep,” he replied, skipping over the part where you’d spent most of the night fucking.

“I’m going to finish the case report from yesterday,” you said before putting your cup down and walking out of the break room, suddenly feeling suffocated by Jay’s presence. You knew Kim immediately understood something happened, you blatantly gave it away but you didn’t care, you just wanted to get away.

Your eyes met Jay’s for a second, just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to send shivers down your spine and make your stomach twist in a knot.

You let out a sigh and headed towards the bathroom in an attempt to calm yourself down.

As you placed your hands on the sink, you took a few deep breaths. You hadn’t even spoken to him and he’d left you in a whirlwind of emotions you didn’t know which one to listen to first.

The previous night kept replay in your mind over and over again, and you couldn’t help but think how much everything had changed in the span of not even 24 hours.

You couldn’t look at him like he meant nothing, you couldn’t pretend you weren’t crazy in love with him, that just seeing him didn’t make your knees weak and heart race.

You were sure of your feelings but you weren’t sure of his. What did he think? How did he feel?

You didn’t have a chance to talk and it was killing you. Not knowing. The truth, though, was that you were terrified of talking to him. You knew you had to but the possibility of hearing he didn’t feel anything for you besides physical attraction and what had happened between you was only sex, paralyzed you.

You rinsed your face with some cold water before drying yourself with a paper towel, throwing it in the trash. Your breath caught in your throat when you exited the bathroom and your eyes met those green ones you were so obsessed about.

He was looking at you so intensely as if he wanted to read your mind and soul.

“Why are you avoiding me Y/n?” His voice was a mix of amusement and resentment and your stomach dropped at least ten stories.

You looked down at your shoes for a moment before looking at him again. “I’m not, why should I?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” he began, taking a step toward you. You took one back in return. “Maybe because you ran away before I woke up or the fact you haven’t even looked at me since I got here. You didn’t even say good morning.”

“I’m sorry Jay, I’m just busy and Voight will have my head if I don’t finish those case reports in time.”

He took another step forward and you took another step back, until your back hit the wall and there was no way you could run away.

“I don’t give a fuck about those reports,” he spoke and despite his low voice his words ran through your body like a knife. And the way his scent hit you fully didn’t help either.

God, I want him so much.

Jay was so close to you, you had to slowly tilt your head back to look at him. Anyone passing by would’ve seen you but it didn’t seem to matter to him, his attention focused solely on you as his eyes scanned every inch of your face.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, you tried to control your breathing but it was no use, Jay’s presence was too much for you to even form a coherent thought.

“Jay, someone can see us.”

“Why did you leave?” He pressed on, completely ignoring your words. His gaze kept roaming over your face, occasionally lingering on your lips, and it was enough to make your knees weak.

“Why do you care?”

“Excuse me?” He furrowed his brows, looking at you as if you had said something blasphemous. “Why do I care? Are you serious? You’re the one avoiding me and you have the courage to ask me why do I care?”.

“Listen…” you took a deep breath and placed your hands on his chest to push him away, trying to ignore the fact that less than twenty-four hours ago your hands were on his bare chest as you rode him on his bed.

His hands palmed your breasts, squeezing them between, his fingers pinching your nipples as you kept riding his dick, letting him penetrate you so deeply, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful, you drive me crazy,” he panted, his expression twisted with pleasure as he looked at you with such intensity it almost made you falter. Your hands were resting on his chest as they helped you gain leverage, your nails pressed hard into his perfect skin.

“Oh my God yes like that… You’re gonna make me come so hard Jay.”

He moved his hands down from your breasts to your ass, squeezing and slapping it so hard the force made you lean forward. His hips moved with yours and his mouth took over yours, in a kiss that left you completely breathless.

The thought alone made you blush and you prayed he wouldn’t notice but from the way he was smirking, you knew he caught you.

You immediately removed your hands, as if you were burned. “We have a job to do okay? We’ll talk later.” You continued before walking away and leaving him standing there, without giving him a chance to reply.

You knew you were being immature. A grown-up would’ve faced it, damn it everyone has sex, but you weren’t ready to hear Jay say it had been a mistake, that last night would never happen again.

The whole day went like this, you looking for any excuse to avoid Jay and him trying to push you at every possible moment. Luckily, a case had come up so you managed to keep yourself busy for most of the day and, above all, stayed away from him.

Despite this, however, he was always there. His eyes were always on you, you felt them whenever you were, trying to read inside you, you felt them on you every time you moved. His presence—even though he was far away from you—was overwhelming, filling every single space and inch of your mind.

You thought you had managed to avoid him for the day but when—shortly after you got home—you heard your doorbell ring, you immediately realized you’d claimed victory too soon.

Before you even looked through your peephole, you knew it was Jay and a pang gripped your stomach when you saw him through the peephole, still in his work clothes exactly like you, handsome and breathtaking as always.

You sighed deeply, knowing it’d be no use avoiding the inevitable. You had to be an adult and deal with what was coming your way.

You opened the door, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart that was so loud you could almost feel it leaping out of your chest. Jay’s eyes traveled down your body before landing on yours.

“Are you done avoiding me like the plague?” he asked sarcastically but with a less than happy expression.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you lied through your teeth and he snorted loudly before rolling his eyes and making his way into your house, not even waiting for your invitation.

I guess we really need to talk and he’s not leaving until we do.

“Y/n I’m getting tired of this game,” he snapped, the neutrality of his features now gone, giving way to anger. “You want to tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

You sighed and closed the door behind you before walking towards the living room, him following you. “I’m sorry… It’s just…” You took a deep breath again, trying to gather all your thoughts.

“It’s just what? You regret it? You could’ve said that instead of acting like a child and avoiding me!” His voice slightly rose, his breathing quickening. “I’ve lost my mind all day trying to find an answer for your behavior! I—I thought we had a good time…”

“I did have a great time Jay oh my god… And of course I don’t regret it! How could I?! I just needed time to think!”

“Think about what? For fuck’s sake Y/n it’s me! I’m not a stranger you know you can talk to me about everything!”.

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, damn it!” You raised your voice too. “I was scared!”

“Speak up then! For fuck’s sake stop saying these half-assed sentences, you’re driving me crazy!” He went completely nuts, hands waving in the air as he let out all the frustration he was holding in. “Scared of what?! What the hell were you thinking about?!”

“Scared you’d tell me it was just a one time thing!”

Jay’s expression quickly changed to one of confusion and then pure shock.

“I didn’t want to face you because I was afraid it meant nothing to you… Shit, Jay… I wasn’t ready to hear you say it was just sex or… Or a mistake.”

At that point you were a raging river, uncontrollable. You couldn’t control your thoughts and the flow of words that were coming out of your mouth. “Because it wasn’t just sex for me. Fuck, I’m in love with you Jay, I’ve been for years, but I… I don’t want to get hurt and I know that would’ve happened if we had talked, that’s why I was avoiding you. I’m so sorry for how I acted but I… I’m just scared shitless of losing you and I’m not ready for—”

You suddenly stopped talking when he grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours.

You froze for a moment, in disbelief of what was happening. You would’ve expected anything, shit you were already preparing yourself for the humiliation you’d feel hearing him say he didn’t feel the same for you, but this… This was beyond your imagination.

It was everything you hoped for, everything you desired.

You wrapped your arms around his chest, pressing your fingers into his back in an attempt to pull him closer. Your lips moved spontaneously against his, mimicking the same hunger, longing and frustration. It was messy, desperate, a kiss full of the words and unspoken feelings.

He slightly groaned against your mouth, as if he had been waiting for this moment all his life, deepening the kiss more and more. His slightly trembling fingers continued to cup your face, tilting your head for a better angle. There were no words to describe what you felt in that moment—that moment with him. Him, who tasted like coffee, like something warm and addictive, like the flavor that made you lose your mind and forget all sense of reason.

It was intoxicating. Him, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, with so much passion and voracity as if he wanted to express what he had not been able to say with words.

When you finally pulled away, Jay rested his forehead on yours, close enough to brush your lips with his again. “Please don’t cry baby,” he whispered, pulling away from you just enough to wipe your tears with his thumbs. You were so emotional you hadn’t even realized it. “I can’t stand it, I don’t want to see you like this, especially because there’s no reason to.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, resting his forehead on yours again. “It wasn’t a mistake, I never thought that for a second,” he continued as his breath tickled your lips. “And it sure as hell wasn’t just a one time thing.”

You slightly pulled your head back, just enough to look into his eyes and you noticed the way his green irises almost obscured by his dilated pupils.

God, he was so breathtaking.

Your heart tightened in your chest. “But… But you—” you stammered like a complete idiot. “You never said anything.”

“Do I have to remind you you were the one avoiding me?” he replied sarcastically. “But to answer your unspoken question, I didn’t do it before because I was scared too. I had no idea how you felt and I was terrified of losing you. You mean everything to me, more than you realize. And the thought of messing this up, of ruining us—” He shook his head, letting out a small, breathless laugh. “I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk you. But if I had known—if I had even guessed you felt the same way—I never would’ve wasted so much time baby.”

You opened your mouth to talk but nothing came out. Your brain was short circuiting, you weren’t able to form a single coherent thought.

Was this really happening? Or was it just a hallucination? It had to be the latter, you must’ve been hit your head.

He chuckled at your reaction before pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary, before kissing your nose. “You ruined me,” he whispered before kissing your lips again. He kissed you more slowly this time, with a gentleness that almost made your legs give out.

He kissed you as if it was his first breath of air after so much time underwater, as if you were his lifeline. He held you as if he was truly afraid you’d walk away, his lips moving against yours in a sensual dance that neither of you wanted to end.

His fingers tangled in your hair—while his other hand gripped your jaw—and he pulled your head slightly, tilting it just right and you almost fainted. God, the way that man made you lose your mind, how crazy he drove you, it was something you’ve never experienced in your life.

When you pulled away, you were both breathless, your lips still tingling and longing for his. He looked at you for a moment, with so much intensity and so much adoration you would’ve paid an organ to always see that look in his eyes.

“God…” he whispered as his fingers caressed your face. “I love you.”

Your heart stopped beating for a moment.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, completely in shock. “Huh? What?”

He laughed, and he was so unbelievably and unfairly beautiful it hurt. His thumb continued to caress the side of your jaw, firm but gentle at the same time. “I love you, I’m in love with you. Quite for a while now.”

Something inside you bursts—a relief so overwhelming you could cry. Instead, you laughed—bright, breathless, disbelieving. “I—You… Holy shit… You love me? You?” You pointed your finger at his chest. “Love me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. “I love you. And, man, it’s such a relief to finally say it.”

You barely gave him time to breathe before you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again, like your life depended on it. He stumbled back with a startled laugh but caught you easily, holding you tight against him as if he’d never meant to let you go.

When you broke apart, you pressed your forehead to his, making him smile so softly it made your chest ache.

“So,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours, “Can we finally stop this avoiding crap? We have a lot of time to make up for.”

You giggled, eyes shining from tears as you nodded your head. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Jay smiled, then kissed you again and again—slow, sweet, like you had all the time in the world.

And for once, you let yourself believe in happy endings.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria, @buckybarnessweetheart, @fanaticlove16, @ajordan2020, @multi-fandom-lover7667, @emryb, @luftmenzch, @anamiad00msday

Jay Halstead tag list: @nosy09, @Cbaby, @luvreading67, @danielmarie, @Saiyuo12, @annahargrove, @nachodaze, @waywardhunter95, @fighterkimburgess, @ephemeral3, @mads-weasley, @itskellysev, @Lovemedlife, @atarmychick007, @amazedbyitall, @glodessa, @xeleni-dutchnurse, @ossypooh, @itriedtoexplain, @randomwriter1021, @averyhotchner, @ellevandeberg, @junevoidzombie, @nocturnalherb16, @croissantthief, @jayhalsteadsbadge, @youngblood199456, @burgstead, @bebataylor84, @ares-kelani-wayne, @lxna-mikaelsxn, @sande5098, @smoothdogsgirl, @withakindheartx, @Jess2013, @maddu-oliveira, @lovemesomepietro, @onechicagodrawings, @Jinxfan18, @xeleni-nurse, @Firerusher, @ready-hit-it, @Rainroo2, @smutl0ver, @kuroe-san, @caroldanverwife, @dreamss-wavess, @halsteadloversworld, @laaaauuraaaaa, @itserickalove, @slytherlight, @notanordinaryprincess95, @goingwiththewind, @mel0809, @cadyfanninger, @acewritesfics, @wickedlovely121, @iloveest, @instantpizzacat, @novabckly, @thatcrimeshowchick, @wnbweasley, @anaferreira-4

Click here to be added to the tag list

Main Masterlist

Jay Halstead Masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

Ask link 💭

[wingedhallows]

Hiii! Me again I'm here for the Caitlyn X reader thing. My idea is that Caitlyn falls for the little sister of her ex girlfriend. Caitlyn is maybe a basketball player and reader more a writer and reader. Maybe Caitlyn takes care of her at a party (reader isn't a party girl) let's her sit near maybe even on her lap or stuff. Cait noticed that she has fallen for her pretty quickly. Reader always loved her and cared for her. Feel free to make out of it what you Want! Hope you like the idea. 🫶🏻 Thanks for listening dear

— REARRANGE MY MIND —

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚ pairing : caitlyn kiramman x reader / 1.3k words — *ੈ✩‧₊˚ plot: A night you didn’t want to be a part of. A girl you can’t seem to shake from your mind.

When Caitlyn pulls you away from the noise, the air between you shifts—charged, electric, inevitable.

Words are whispered, lines are blurred, and suddenly, you’re caught in something far bigger than just a stolen moment on a quiet porch. — *ੈ✩‧₊˚ authors note: hey, babes. thank you so much for requesting this! I hope you like it (i changed it a little bit but i hope u like it anyways :)) feel free to request anytime, making these is so much fun!

♡ navigation ♡

You hate parties—despise them, actually. The deafening music, the suffocating crowds, the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap booze.

But Livia—your insufferable, scheming sister—insisted you come. Not out of the kindness of her heart, no. You’re pretty sure she just needed a designated driver.

So here you are. Alone.

A red solo cup dangles from your fingers as you sink into an armchair at the back of the room, watching the chaos unfold. People stumble, slur their words, press against each other in sloppy, drunken kisses. It’s all so predictable. So dull.

Then, she slips into your thoughts.

Caitlyn.

Livia’s ex. The one person at these godforsaken parties who ever made them bearable. You always got along—maybe too well. And now, sitting here in this mess of people you couldn’t care less about, you feel the weight of missing her settle in your chest.

Is she here tonight? Would she even—

An arm drapes over your shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

"There you are, darling."

Your breath stutters. Your pulse betrays you, skipping like a stone across water. Her voice—smooth as velvet, edged with amusement—coils around you, warm and familiar. The scent of her—floral, intoxicating, so distinctly her—hits you, and you fight the sudden, ridiculous urge to lean in.

Caitlyn.

Of course.

You look up at her, and—Jesus. That smirk. It’s unfair, really, how effortlessly it makes your knees weak.

"Hey, Cait." You manage, voice steadier than you feel. You take a sip from your solo cup, wincing as the flat, stale coke coats your tongue. God, disgusting.

Caitlyn chuckles, the sound smooth and teasing. "Hey back at you, sweet girl."

Then she perches herself on the armrest of your chair, close—too close—and your breath stutters in your throat. You swear she notices.

"What’re you doing all alone, darling?"

She tilts her head, and a stray strand of blue hair slips free, tumbling over her ear. Your fingers twitch—you want to tuck it back. Instead, you force yourself to look away, clearing your throat.

"Livia dragged me here. Probably just wanted a ride home." Your voice is dry, casual, but inside, you’re anything but.

Caitlyn shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. Then, her fingers sweep through your hair, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Bitch. C’mon, let’s go for a smoke."

Before you can react, she slips her hand into yours, her fingers threading between yours like it’s second nature. And then she’s pulling you up, leading you away, like she’s done it a million times before.

You don’t protest. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

Your heart might give out, though

Caitlyn leans effortlessly against the porch railing, a cigarette balanced between her lips as she flicks the lighter to life. The flame dances, a brief flicker of gold against her sharp features, and all you can do is watch—heart hammering against your ribs.

She doesn’t hesitate, taking a slow drag, exhaling a swirl of smoke that coils around her like phantom fingers, pulling you in without a single word. You swear she was made for moments like this—careless, untouchable, intoxicating.

"Here."

Her voice is a low murmur as she holds the cigarette out to you, the stick poised between her slender fingers.

A silent invitation. A test, maybe.

You don’t think—you just do. You lean in, lips parting around the filter still warm from her mouth, drawing in a breath before exhaling into the cool night air.

You don’t notice the way her gaze dips to your mouth, how something unreadable flickers in her eyes.

"You could’ve said no, you know."

Her voice is softer now, carrying that familiar warmth she always has when she looks at you. The warmth that makes it so damn hard to think straight.

Your brows knit together. "What?"

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she reaches up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. But her touch doesn’t stop there—it lingers. Fingertips grazing your cheek, sending something electric straight through your veins before she finally pulls away.

And God, you wish she hadn’t.

"You don’t owe Livia anything," she says finally, her gaze holding yours like she’s peeling back layers.

"She should know better—you don’t like parties."

She studies you then, quiet, searching, like she’s trying to figure you out, piece by piece.

Like she wants to know exactly what’s hiding beneath your skin.

"Then again—Livia’s always been a bitch."

Caitlyn huffs a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and edged with something unspoken. You know exactly why. Months ago, Livia cheated on her. Threw away something so effortlessly breathtaking. And for what?

You’ve never understood it—how anyone could betray her.

She’s the star basketball player, graceful, impossibly tall, magnetic in a way that feels almost unfair. There’s an aura around her—a quiet untouchability that drives you insane.

You hum in agreement. "That’s true."

You tilt your head slightly, watching her with an intensity you don’t even realize you’re carrying.

"I should’ve chosen more wisely."

Her voice is softer now, quieter, like a confession slipping through the cracks.

Your breath catches. Your heart slams against your ribs. What? What does she mean?

Your throat feels tight as you force the words out. "What do you mean?"

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leans in.

Closer.

Dangerously close.

Her gaze flickers—your eyes, your lips. The cigarette hangs forgotten between her fingers, smoke curling idly into the air.

"Should’ve chosen the blossom behind the bush of thorns."

Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it might as well be a scream.

You swallow hard, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. Your eyes lock onto hers, caught in something vast and inescapable.

And suddenly, breathing feels impossible.

"Let me kiss you, darling. Please."

The words are barely a whisper, but they crash into you like a tidal wave.

Your breath catches. Blood rushes to your ears, your pulse hammering so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. And all you can do is nod—weakly, helplessly—completely lost in her. In the scent of her skin, the heat of her presence, the way she drowns out the rest of the world like she was made to consume you whole.

Caitlyn doesn’t wait.

The cigarette is flicked to the ground, forgotten. Her hands cradle your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin as she claims your lips with a fervor that steals the air from your lungs. You stumble back against the railing, a gasp slipping from you, but she follows, pressing in—unyielding, wanting.

Your heart stutters, then soars.

Your hands find her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, and the moment your bodies collide, something ignites. Sparks, fire, heat—it’s all-consuming.

Her mouth moves against yours with a hunger that makes your knees weak, and you meet her passion with just as much desperation—wild, needy, as if the world might end and this is the only thing that could ever matter.

Then, her fingers tangle into the back of your hair, gripping just enough to make you shiver. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours in a slow, intoxicating slide. You let her in without hesitation—without a single thought beyond her.

When she finally pulls back, she doesn’t go far.

Her forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. She’s smiling. That lazy, perfect, post-kiss smile that makes your heart do dangerous things.

"I love you."

Three simple words. But they wreck you. They unravel you from the inside out. Warmth floods your chest, and suddenly, there’s only one thing you know for certain.

"I love you too."

And, somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

[crimkayz]

Romantic Snape Headcanons

   ━━⊱⋆⊰━Headcanons━⊱⋆⊰━━

- He likely wouldn’t use pet names, especially at the beginning of the relationship. Once he is more comfortable and you are further along in the relationship he will. The only pet name he would use on occasion is Darling. I could also see him using it in frustration. 

- His love language would be acts of service. He definitely would brew potions for you if needed. If he heard you complaining you would find a potion to help fix the problem, whether be sleeplessness or pain.  

- He is a deeply jealous individual. He would get jealous but it would be an internal battle, you might be able to catch a glimpse of his storm of emotions by his facial expressions or the clenching of his hands. He would bring it up later in private when he deems it an ample time to have such a conversation. 

- He does not stand for disrespect toward his person. He would use wit and sarcasm to shame the individual who disrespected you. He would totally hold a grudge. In some instances, he would even make them apologize for their crude behavior.  

- Obsessive in a subtle and easily missed way. He takes in a lot of information about you but doesn’t make it obvious that he knows these things about you. He tends to be a silent observer. Would likely put himself in situations where you’d also be present, he enjoys forced proximity.

- He probably wouldn’t like or enjoy public affection that much. He would only really hold hands if you wanted to or there aren't many people around. Would hold your hand to stop you from wandering off or losing you in a busy crowd. In private he would be more willing to be touched, he may even let you lay on his chest if you’ve been together for a while. 

- Gift-giving isn't really his thing, he tends to stick to holidays and special occasions. He would most likely give one meaningful or thought-out gift. Doesn’t mind spending the money if it's guaranteed you will like it. On special occasions, we might get flowers for you, though they would be already displayed in a vase. He would not address the fact that he got them at all. 

- Further into the relationship, he would do acts of service. He’d be thoughtful and make you tea or hot cocoa if you were relaxing or reading. He would get you snacks or small things you like in a pass-by through Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. 

- He’d never admit it out loud but he enjoys seeing you wear his cloak, especially in public settings. He acts like it annoys him though.

- He is not into going on public dates, although if he knew you’d enjoy going out to a certain place he would take you, maybe for a special occasion. He does do romantic dates in private places. 

- He enjoys being kissed in private. He views kisses as a sort of reassurance regarding the bond and relationship between the two of you. 

This is all for now… loading more soon.. ;)

Nsfw headcanons are next!!!!

Thank you to @pieisstillgood for helping me, love you <3

[wlwsoccerfics]

Lost(LiaWältiXToddlerReader)

AN: Hope you enjoy my take on this request.

Summary: you greet Fans with your Mommy and get lost.

You sat in the changing room, your Mommy just finished taking a shower, while you sat on Leahs lap. Playing with your stuffed elephant and stuff Giraffe. You always carried the two around.

"so little walnut, what did you think of the game?" Your auntie Leah asked. You looked at her. The Game was part of the conti Cup.

"you won. I is proud!" Two and a half year old you said.

"glad to hear it!" Auntie Leah told you and smiled softly. You smiled back.

Lotte sat next to you and handed you your sippy cup.

"are you thirsty?" She asked you. Auntie Lotte was always the one that made sure you had your water and some snacks to keep you entertained. Especially when your Mommy wasn't there.

"yes! Thank you!" You said and sipped on your water. Smiling at Lotte. She was hands down one of your favorite aunties.

Your Mommy soon came out of the shower, dressed in her Arsenal track suit. Picking you up.

"are you ready to get home?" Your mommy asked. You nodded your head softly.

"yes Mommy! I am ready to go home!" You answered. Cuddling up to your Mommy. Smiling softly at her.

On your way to the Team Bus your Mommy greeted some Fans with you. Holding you on her hip. While signing some Jerseys, pictures and other Things. Even taking some Photos. You enjoyed it alot. Especially when they complimented your jersey. Which of course had your mommys Name and number on it. The Name obviously happened to be yours as well. Your Mommy wasn't the only one that was signing stuff and took Pictures with Fans. So there was quite the big crowd. Some even asked you to sign stuff. So what you did was draw something. You were really proud of yourself. Wanting to become a Football player just like your Mommy and aunties. So this was the perfect practice for you.

Your Mommy put you down to take a picture with a group of Girls.

"stay close, walnut!" Your mommy told you. You had both of your stuffies under one arm and held your sippy cup in the other hand. Nodding your head softly.

"okay Mommy. I got it!" You let her know.

The next time which was around 30 seconds after your Mommy told you to stay close, you were gone.

"y/n?!" Your Mommy said, panic in her voice. Looking around. Steph and Leah who stood close to your Mommy to sign stuff looked alarmed and walked over to your Mommy.

"Wally. What's wrong?!" Leah asked.

"y/n is gone! She was just standing here!" She told them in Panic. Steph and Leah both looked worried as well now. But tried to stay calm cause your Mommy looked like she was about to lose it. Soon the entire Team knew about you having gone missing.

"we gonna find her!" Kyra said softly.

"Kyra is right! We will find her." Alessia replied.

"i just didn't look for 30 seconds and she was gone!" Your Mommy said. She was close to a Panic Attack.

"breathe Wally! Breathe! You having a panic attack won't help find her!" Alessia stated. Even though she was really worried about you as well.

They all looked for you for around 20 minutes before Steph found you. Even some Fans Had helped look for you.

"Wally! She is here!" Your auntie yelled. You were happily standing in a Corner with some Fans singing 'north London is Red' . Your Mommy ran over right away and picked you up.

"my little walnut! You are okay!" She said and placed kisses all over your face.

"of course i am okay Mommy!" You replied, looking confused.

"please don't wander off anymore! You gave Mommy a Heart Attack." Your Mommy answered.

"you didn't just gave your Mommy a Heart Attack. We all were really worried about you!" Auntie Steph admitted.

Everyone was relieved that you were okay. You promised to always stay by your mommys side from now on. The day was so exhausting that you ended up falling asleep on the bus. Your little head was lying in your auntie Lessis lap while your legs were in your mommys lap.

[sheepispink]

His medic, Your muse

pairings: leon s kennedy x medic!reader (im pretty sure it’s gender neutral)

summary: You’re a medic at the DSO, your first ever patient being Leon. However that was three years ago and you’ve since left for a better life, but Leon’s being doing worse, struggling to survive without you. So, as anyone does, he turns up injured at your doorstep, multiple times.

WC: 4.5k

A/n: i miss him so much, i miss leon so much i want to kiss him

resident evil masterlist

————————————————-

You’ve worked at the DSO for a while, though as one of the medics rather than an agent. The training was tough but you took it well, eventually getting your certification. However, you still have not treated a real patient yet, only assisting or handling miniscule problems. Today you had been told that a bunch of agents had just returned and one would be assigned to you. There wasn’t time to ask questions, even to determine his state, before he’s knocking at your little infirmary in the west wing. He had dealt with his fair share of medics in his training, and they hadn’t been particularly nice. In fact none of the others in the program were particularly friendly either; nearly everyone was tightlipped due to the fact this was supposed to be some top secret government program. When he was ushered towards the infirmary and you approached him, he was expecting a straight forward and relatively quiet checkup, or at best a few stammers seeing as you didn’t look too experienced. This was the least part of his missions; newbie or not, he was sure he’d leave this only feeling more drained than before. “Kennedy, is it? Are there any really bad injuries I should be aware of?”

You do stutter a little, making his lips quirk upwards at his correct prediction. “My hand got stabbed, and I was injected with some.. virus thing, then healed. Anything else shouldnt be too bad.” He reminds himself not to get too hopeful over you— that might just be the only full sentence you say for the next three hours. “V-virus?” You squeak it out, having never heard of an agent getting a virus and then healing from said virus too. Though you were briefed about Umbrella a while back, you didnt realise they made antidotes too. Then again, they didn't want all their people to die out.

You ignore the way his lips rise again at your squeak, instead opening a new syringe and setting up some vials. “Okay, we’ll have to take some blood to test for any abnormalities. Are you scared of needles?”

He blinks at you, stares down at his rolled up sleeve, the needle in your hand and then back to you again, eyebrow raised. “What if I was?”

He wasn't, but he couldn’t fault you for asking; he’s met a lot of people in his life who’ve been afraid, even if they were special service agents or the like.

“Well there’s a different needle I can use, or I can make sure you don't know when I've done it.. or I can make sure you don't see it?” He raises a brow, and shakes his head, about to mumble something about him not being scared of needles. Though, before he can get a sound out, there’s a pinch in his arm and in seconds you have the vial filled up to the top. “Hold onto this.” He finds himself following your orders without hesitation, his hand holding down a small cotton ball you pressed against the incision whilst you grab a piece of medical tape to keep it down. “Perfect, just tell me if that carries on bleeding. Now pass me your hand and I'll rewrap the gauze there.”

He blinks, watching as you delicately take his hand, slowly unwrapping the bandages and watching him for any reaction of pain. It hurts, but it’s nothing he cant handle too badly. You’re slow and careful as you clean the wound, your thumb pressing gently into his uninjured skin in a soothing gesture each time he tenses. “There, all done.” A smile curves on your lips, satisfied by your neat bandages left on his hand. “Thanks..” He starts to sit up right, ready to leave when you speak up again, hands around a small clipboard.

”So, apart from noticeable injuries, what else have you had?” He hasn't expected you to care about anything other than open wounds, considering most nurses wouldn't but you’re watching him expectantly. “Got thrown around a lot, probably some big bruises and cuts—nothing too bad.” Your brows furrow though, and you gesture for him to show you them and so he does. For the next half hour, you carefully check over each mark and particularly large bruise, fingers gentle against his collarbone as you wipe down a cut there. ”Is this it now..?” He currently feels like a mummy from how much gauze and plasters litter his body.

”Injuries-wise, yes.” You chuckle at his impatience, looking up at him again after turning the page to a fresh one. “How are you feeling?”

”What?”

”Y’know, your mental state. Any unusual migraines, brain fog..voices?” He shakes his head slowly and you nod, scribbling down a short note. He hadn’t expected to stay here this long, nor for you to ask things like that, especially since he knew most of the DSO medics were worked to the bone. You take his short answer well, scooting your swivel chair over to the computer. “Alright… just keep applying ointment on those bruises..” You hum whilst tapping away at your keyboard, likely filling in a prescription for a proper jar of ointment for him.

This time he finally stands, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. He does feel a little better— even he can't deny that fact. “You’ll have a debriefing soon right..?” He lets out a small huff in agreement, clearly not looking too happy about being forced back into the job once more and not trying to hide that in the slightest.

“Hmm.. how many hours of medical leave do you want? I can't do a whole day based on your injuries, but I can definitely get you some hours of rest.” He blinks at you—was that not technically lying? As a medic, you had the authority to request a temporary, permanent, or just even a few hours of discharge, but agents who have tried to request it were nearly always denied. After all, the DSO didn't care about their employees, only the work they got done.

”You look tired. It’d do good for your injuries.” You turn back to him, giving him a small shrug before gesturing to the empty medical beds around the small room. There was a curtain to shield each one off from the other, supposed to be used for emergencies or treatments. He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if you’re really being serious about all of this. As he stares back, all he can see is the genuine worry in your eyes and he reluctantly softens his harsh features, nodding. “Okay.. guess I can stay for a bit.”

He’s suddenly very grateful when you keep your gaze to your paperwork as he steps towards a bed in the far corner, draping his jacket on the small table and undoing the remaining gear on his person. His shirt now crumpled on the desk, he slips beneath the soft but thin covers of the bed. Never would he have ever thought he’d accept an offer like this before; when he sneaks a peek back at you, he only sees you tapping away quietly at your computer. It’s an environment he likes, quiet.. peaceful; he soon dozes off, slipping into a deep slumber.

————-

That was three years ago, and since then you’ve been one of the only medics he’s let tend to, and the only he’d speak with outside of the infirmary. Sometimes choosing the medic was out of his control, but the more you were assigned to him, the more he longed for that medic to always be you. He wasn’t the only one though; you were regularly praised by the agents for being one of the most attentive around. Since that day, he’s spent a lot more hours in your infirmary too, whether it was for checkups, small cuts or just a well-needed chat that’d occasionally turn into an excuse to nap. You were one of the few things keeping him sane after every mission, making sure he stayed healthy and well and prescribing him rest whenever you deemed it to be necessary— that was practically always though.

However, just when he started to consider indulging in your presence a little more, you had decided enough was enough. Despite your constant dedication, even you couldn't live through the constant stress of attending to every injured person and witnessing deaths of agents you used to see every day. And so, after saving up enough and finding a job that only required part time, you quit. You know the agents would survive without you; after all, you were just a small spark in the midst of the darkness of the company and it had been slowly snuffing out the light you had left.

For the first few months, Leon pushed past it, especially as more B.O.Ws showed up across the states. With each mission he only drained himself more and more, forced to walk past the empty infirmary with a longing tear in his heart. He couldn't help it; you cared about him more than he would even care about himself, and he cared for you more than his mind could comprehend. So he continued to deny himself, forcing himself through mission after mission until he was riding back on his motorcycle—the pain brutal as he drove through the empty streets. What good was there in calling for help? He’d only be shoved into more work by morning, another hangover, another splitting headache and another wish of everything ending altogether. A cycle he desperately had not wanted to repeat again.

”Uh.. um.. are you free?” He leans against a payphone, knowing it’s two am and feeling so, so bad for the tired yawn that echoed when you had eventually picked up. “What’s wrong Leon..? You don’t sound too good..” He couldn't speak; forced into silence just by your gentle voice speaking out his name. There was no more of that Kennedy nonsense, just him, Leon. “Can I come over..?”

Ten minutes later you opened the door to his weary face, an exhaustion that rung his hair flat and sunk his gaze to the floor. “Oh my—“ You gasp, noticing the stains of red on his shirt and grabbing his wrist without a second thought. Quickly, you have him settled on your couch, his shirt discarded as you tend to a gash near his side, fixing him as you always have. When you’re sure he’s fine, you give him a worried glance before grabbing him a thick duvet, water and painkillers. He sleeps soundly on your couch that night, no nightmares to lurk in the depths of his mind and nothing leaking out the ever present hole that once painted his heart.

After that day, it grew increasingly harder to avoid the urge. How would anyone deny something so perfect when they’ve already been delivered a taste? It was only a ‘once-in-a-few-months’ type of thing. You let him in, even if you haven't heard from him in six weeks and he’s practically bleeding out on your doorstep. That was also the problem— the issue of inconveniencing you. He always dropped in at the worst times, usually when you were all sleepy as you wiped down his gashes with the best concentration you can. What if you were only dealing with him for the sake of it? He couldn't deny the possibility of this being true— the fact of him taking advantage of your kindness. It tore him apart more than the ache that begged for you, pulling him in two directions with no middle ground to save him.

Until a mission comes around, a bad one— a really bad one. The B.O.W lays in the rubble, a sickly acid oozing from its weakened form and it’s clear these are its last breaths now. There’s a plank of metal through its chest, its eyes destroyed by grenades Leon’s hands had dealt. However, instead of relief, he only reciprocated the distress of the bioweapon. A particularly nasty wound had his head dizzy, barely stumbling his way to your porch and knocking weakly at your door. He can barely open his mouth to speak, his eyes weak as you gasp, stilling for a split second before immediately hoisting his arm over your shoulder and ushering him inside. Blood dripped on the hardwood floor as you led him through, this time not to your couch but to your bedroom. It would be easier this way, especially since it was so close to his abdomen and having him laying flat would be great. “I-it’s not that bad..” He can't help but feel bad when you rush around the room like this, grabbing all your first aid things as quickly as possible. Usually he’d come for a patch up— not to save him before he fainted from blood loss.

“It is!“ You squeak out, back at his side and gently pushing his chest down to lay properly on the bed. It’s a matter of seconds before you have his shirt cut open, working quickly to clean the bloody skin before slipping the thread through the needle. He winces painfully as it pokes his skin, his eyebrows scrunching all the while your breaths are hitched nervously.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me..” He complains, with a groan, hoping to lighten the mood even with the current situation— it’s not like he hasn’t tried to rile you up before. It’s his love language, he can't help his nature. Even so, he’s seen you handle worse before, even having wrapped an emergency tourniquet when you got caught up in an ambush. But this, seeing him tremble, scared you— enough for your hands to tremble as you wrap a firm bandage over him. You let out a long breath, eventually rolling your eyes at his remark. “Would you prefer to bleed out all over my favourite duvet?” He lets out a little chuckle as he pushes himself up with wheezed breaths to lean against the pillows you fluffed for him. “I think I already did that part.”

The air is quiet as you clean up his blood, your rag turning a murky red. He watches you from the bed, eyes a little more awake now that the pain has eased a bit. It’s warm, on your bed, your thick duvet draped comfortably over his battered body as you stiffly place his clothes into the washing machine along with yours that had gotten drenched in his crimson. “I wish i could help you.. it doesnt feel right forcing you to clean up after me like this.” He has to cough to clear his throat, voice a little rusty. You blink up at him though, shaking your head gently as you approach the bed with water. “Only you would complain about someone taking care of you when you need it.” It’s accompanied with a half hearted smile, your eyes holding relief for his safe state.

“Hey—I’m trying to be nice. If I could, I would help you.” He mumbles out, clearly noticing the way your hand lingered as you place the water bottle on the table beside where he lays, pulling away after a few moments. “I know Leon, i know.”

He watches you finally clear up everything, before settling at the foot of the bed with your little sketchpad again. He noticed you with it in the rare moments you had free time at the DSO, always focused on it as you scribbled down little things. Once you let him sneak a peek and it was usually landscapes you’d seen when you were on field, or ones that agents described. It was a hobby that started to die out until you quit, choosing to let that be your salvation than to be another happy thing to bury for the sake of work.

“You should get some sleep, you look tired..” You’ve been doing this every time he comes around now, always sitting somewhat near him with that black book in your hands. “Cant, i’m sketchin.” You hum out, shuffling around on the bed to face him as you continue. He raises a brow at that, confused but his hands move back to adjust the pillows behind him.

“You can sketch in the morning you know.”

“Then my subject will move, and it wont look the same.”

Now he’s fully staring at you, the implications of your words not lost on him and he almost shoots to sit up straight if not for the fact of the pain running through his body. “You’ve been drawing me.. every time i come round?”

“Yeah, gotta take note of all your injuries for later.”

He gives you a look, as if calling you out on your lame excuse right then and there. “So you cant just i dont know, write it down? Take a photo?”

This time you roll your eyes up at him and come to sit a little nearer on the bed rather than near his feet. “Well then i couldn’t do this, could i?”

You turn the page around, showing him the sketched version of him who now wears an exaggerated frown as he stares out. You’ve got a knack for drawing him, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyes and even the bridge if his nose— it’s impressive. “I do not frown like that.” You let out a laugh, giggling at his reaction as you turn the sketchbook around again and carry on, all the while his mind is still stuck on the fact that you’ve been drawing him over and over.

“Guess i’m a pretty good reference then, if you’re always drawing me?” He tilts his head towards you and you snicker again, waving him off. “Dont get cocky, you’re alright.”

“Cocky? I bet i’m the only thing you draw. C’mon, rate me out of ten, theres no way i get lower than 9.”

He watches you shuffle closer to him, leaving your sketchbook to the side as you sit right by him on the bed. You begin to narrow your eyes at him, scrutinising his appearance and he’s half tempted to cower beneath your judgement. “You get.. 1 point for your hair, it’s a nice colour, but it is a little messy.” He immediately frowns at you and sits up just a little straighter than before. “I’m an agent, not a model. And I just got a drop kicked by a bioweapon. Cut me some slack.” He huffs out but you only shrug again, eyes moving towards his face instead as you cross your legs. “Hey, you asked for a rating. It’s super duper important in art you know?”

”That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

“Well, you get another point for your eyes; They’re a nice shade of blue. Also another for your nose, it curves nicely.” He raises a brow, wondering how he’s racking up so many points so quickly and he cocks his head. “You flatter me, i’ll be at ten by the time you get to my hands.” He winks cheekily, a proud grin stretching his lips wide. “Not so fast, i never said it was out of ten— 25 is the limit.”

You continue your little game, Leon scoffing as you don’t give him any points for his ‘very strong biceps’ as he says; you can only shrug, just wanting to rile him up till he pouts again. He lets you rate his body though, smirking in a cocky way as you even go as far to compliment his hands but even more so at his muscled torso— he knows you cant resist. “So how many points are we at?” He hums, enjoying the way you’ve slowly gravitated closer to him as you ramble and mumble about his features, something that's probably considered nerdy but plenty cute to watch. “I think having strong calves leaves you at… 22. That’s pretty good.”

Your lips pull wide, grinning at him and expecting him to be just as happy but instead he only gives you a short huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only 22? I’m not taking anything less than 24, there must be some redeeming qualities.” You roll your eyes up at him, though keeping a good eye on his torso incase of any tear of the stitches.

“Okay fine, you can get one for your biceps. Happy?”

“Nope.”

You groan, sit up straight and ogle him, eyeing him like you’re the hawk and he’s the prey, squirming beneath you uncomfortably. “Fine. You get one more.”

“Oh? I knew it.”

“You have a very huggable waist.” You giggle, snickering as you playfully plant your hands on his hips, watching something flicker through his eyes before they grow just as mischievous. “Oh? Wanna test that out?” It was a joke, or maybe it wasn't, but you didn't mind and he sure as hell didn't either. It’s stupid, and messy, the way he pulls you in for a hug and your arms are as tight as they can be around him, cheek squished against his chest.

“I was right.”

That laugh of yours is enough to make him crumble, make him want to spill every thought inside his head. The nights he wishes he was enough of a man for you, the nights he wishes he had the courage to be the one to comfort you when you quit your job, or even the day he heard someone else soothe you when you cried over another patient.

He snaps out of his thoughts, and returns the hug, his fingers lightly tickling your sides to make you squirm and scramble back, giggling all the way. “Sooo, that’s gotta be like 25 now right?”

“Nope still 24.” He groans again, and if he’s being honest he is exhausted right now, but he’d let himself bleed out tonight if it meant seeing you laugh like that again. He’s sick of sitting back and waiting for this, waiting for you to see through him, waiting for every time he’s injured to look for excuses. “How can i get the last point?” Blue eyes lock onto your face, the wrinkle of your nose and the furrow of your brows as you think, tapping your chin playfully. He knows you’re tired too, the weight in your eyes is visible but not as bad as the lack of spark in your last month at the DSO. “You have to earn it.”

Is this his chance? He could tell you all his redeeming qualities. Like how he could hold you with one hand, how his skills were unmatched to others, the feats he’s achieved. Or he could explain his care for you: how he’d protect you from any horror that came your way, how he’d kill anything that came near to harming you, how he’d quell any worry that neared your head– that he’d die for you.

You’re still sitting before him, looking at him with curious eyes as he leans forward, crossing the small distance left between the two of you. His hand reaches up, swallowing the curve of your warm cheeks as he stares at you, properly. Your noses would brush if he went any closer, he could just kiss you right now and he’d have you in the palm of his hand– even more so than he does right now. He wants you, and he wants you to want him.

“I love you,” The words slip out, intentional yet reckless all the same, a promise made that he’s not sure he can keep but he knows he’ll rather die trying than to never feel it. “And.. i’ll do anything you ask of me to prove it to you.”

It’s like slow motion the way your pupils dilate, swirling with an emotion he’s never witnessed in you before and he takes it as a good sign, his thumb gently brushing the skin below your lips. He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes, waiting for a sign of rejection, acceptance or even hesitation. You nod quietly, your hands are awkward, not knowing where to place themselves and it makes him chuckle, loving the way you falter when it comes to him. He leans in, lips pressing against your nose first just to watch the way you blink, a wide grin widening on your face in surprise before he leans in properly, hand tightening around your cheek.

“Do I get the last point now?” He asks, still enamoured by how you’re breathless, more so in shock of his confession than the short lived kiss, though that was captivating all the same. Your hand copies his motion, cupping his cheek as you lean in more fervently, capturing his lips in yours. When you finally break away you’re gasping for air, arms slung around his neck as you stare at his eyes, a pretty shade of blue. “Yeah, you’re a 25 out of 25, Leon. I wouldn't expect anything less from you.”

The reciprocation of the kiss is enough for his heart to go crazy in your palms; his cheeks lift as he grins wider and pulls you in for a proper hug, a soft kiss to your forehead for good measure. “Does this mean i cani come by without the injuries now? Just for the sake of it?”

“You always could, Leon.” You hug him back just as tight, giggling as he squirms at your eyelashes flittering against his neck. Eventually you settle him to lay down properly, with you curled around his being. His arm is weakly around your shoulders, head sunk into the pillows as he lets out a long sigh. You can only listen to the quiet thump of a content heart, your hand tracing shapes on his chest as you tenderly watch his wound, worrying about it tearing.

“Sorry for scaring you.” He murmurs quietly and you can only shake your head tiredly, craning your head up to meet his eyes again. “You’re stuck here for the next three days. Doctors orders.”

He chuckles at that, even more so as your hand reaches upwards, rubbing his jaw gently before scratching at his scalp. He returns the action, rubbing your shoulder gently as your face presses against his muscles. “Alright, alright. I can't deny that now can i?”

Bonus:

It’s his third day here, but also a Friday too. He’s still not fully healed of course, the wound still a little worrying but nothing your heart cant handle. Especially when he’s carefully looked after in your hands—- literally. The morning sun peeks through the gaps in the curtains, making you rise although not fully, still half awake as you glance over. He’s got an arm behind his head, lips parted as he drools a little, and he looks so, so relaxed. The strain of his muscles have slackened, his face looking softer, younger even, as he breathes gently. Most of all, his hand is loose around your back, fingers poking into your waist.

You cant resist, leaning upwards to his sleepy face and pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his cheek. It’s the first time he’s ever been caught off guard, his brows twitching in confusion and he lets out another small huff, head turning in your direction as if to seek you out. It’s adorable really, and you mourn all the years you two havent been together, having experienced this before. It’s okay, because you have the rest of eternity for the two of you— doctors orders.

[frostedfragments]

the nanny ✧.* sylus x reader ✧.* 1.1k words ✧.* dad!sylus x nanny reader summary: sylus fucks the nanny warnings!: oral (fem receiving), shower sex note: i'm so back

divider cred. @cyberangel-graphics

When you first took the job, you’re almost bashful to admit that it wasn’t your endless love of children and the joy they bring that motivated you. Working through college at the time was life-draining, soul-destroying, but it had all been worth it when you secured an unpaid, part time internship with an editor you’d admired since you were a young preteen collecting stacks of fashion magazines under your bed. But, unpaid was…well, unpaid, so you had to make money elsewhere.

The part time hours were an advantage, meaning you could easily find work in the city, but it was the peak of Fall, students arriving from all over to go to classes at the city school, and that meant a severe lack of available part time jobs.

Nannying hadn’t been on your radar, and it was only when your old roommate Yara had pointed out an ad in the newspaper that almost sounded good to be true. A man named Sylus living in a penthouse deep in the classy district of the city needed a nanny for his three year old, and well, since Yara was moving in with her boyfriend, you also needed a place to stay. You weren’t gonna make rent on your own, so you took the job.

You’d never imagined it would lead you here.

Here being naked, propped on Sylus’s ensuite vanity, legs spread as his blonde head works hard between them. The steam from the shower is thick and cloying, coating your body in a dew that mingles with the sweat from the last twenty minutes that Sylus has been eating you out like a man starved.

“F-fuck, I can’t…n-not again,”

His grip tightens on your thigh, the other hand smoothing up over the damp skin of your stomach to cup your breast, squeezing in warning. His eyes are piercing as they stare up at you, dark and deep, blood red, hungry even as he pauses to lick his shiny lips, “You can and you will. One more, baby,”

He said that ten minutes ago, and now you’re five orgasms deep, legs shaking on his broad, naked shoulders. It’s almost painful the way his tongue drags along your swollen, abused clit, your throat dry despite the humidity of the bathroom. With the shower running, the two of you don’t have to worry about waking Kira, though you had expected to be standing under the spray with Sylus by now, wrapped up in his embrace.

Instead, he pinches your nipple hard enough for you to yelp, the sound bouncing off the tile.

“Quiet, baby,” He murmurs, slurring as he takes another long lick up your drenched slit, “Fuck, you always taste so good when I’ve been missing you,”

Sylus got back from his business trip this morning, doing what? You don’t really know, or care to ask. Whatever it is, it’s important, and requires him to be away at least once every other week. Hence the need for you to be here for Kira.

His words, preluding a sharp bite to your inner thigh that has you gasping, leaves a warmth spreading through your middle. He stays true to his word, licking and finger fucking you through another slow, rolling orgasm that has your thighs trembling when Sylus finally stands, tall and imposing. You don’t know if you can stand, but it doesn’t matter, Sylus picks you up and checks the water before carrying you under the spray. You gasp when your back hits the tile, not quite warmed by the water yet, and you loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a long kiss you both groan into.

Hair two shades darker than it was a moment ago falls into his eyes, and you reach up, brushing it off his forehead as he gazes down at you with an unreadable look. Things have changed a lot since the two of you first began this somewhat inappropriate relationship, and for a while it was just fucking. Sylus was newly-divorced, hardly interested in dating, and you just didn’t have the time. The attraction between the two of you had been palpable since the first meeting when you interviewed for the job, and it only took two weeks before you were pulled into the driver’s seat of his Audi one evening after dropping Kira off at her mom’s, your legs bracketing his hips and his hand rough and impatient under your skirt.

It had been the best sex of your life, and since then, you hadn’t stopped. But now, you weren’t sure you could even if you wanted to, and your heart thuds in agreement as Sylus’s eyes soften, his lips parting on an exhale as he positions his cock where you need him, thrusting into you in one slow roll of his hips.

“Feels so fucking good,” You groan, voice breaking slightly when he nudges that spot inside you he just spent almost a half hour stroking with his fingers, “Harder, please,”

He grunts, large hands reaching round to cup your ass and pull you down onto his rigid length, forcing a moan from deep within your chest, “Yeah? Like that?” he asks in that voice that always gets you wet between the legs. He gives you another hard thrust, picking up speed as he fixes his mouth to your breast, suckling and biting at your nipple.

“J-just like that -” You groan, eyes rolling back when you feel that familiar heat between your hips, breasts swaying as Sylus pulls back, watching your body with an insatiable hunger in his gaze, flitting between your tits and your face as he keeps fucking into you, so hard your back slaps against the tile, “Yeah…oh, fuck, yes. Sylus -”

He doesn’t need you to ask, he already knows you’re close by the way your pussy wraps around him like a fist. He moans softly, calling your name while he strums at your clit with his thumb. You last for two more powerful drives of his hips, convulsing on his cock as if you hadn’t had his head between your legs damn near all night.

Your climax sets him off, as always, his eyes watching, enraptured as you tighten up on him like a dream, face relaxed and mouth open on a silent moan. He fucks into you with a couple more sloppy thrusts, burying his head in your neck before he wakes up the entire damn building, roaring into your neck a muffled cry of your name.

The shower is quiet after that, soft touches and lingering gazes as Sylus grins down at you, his face wearing a look that both terrifies and exhilarates you. He washes you as if you’re something to be cherished, and it almost brings tears to your eyes. You hiccup softly before Sylus wraps his arms around your middle, his lips pressed to your jaw.

“I know, baby,”

You both don’t have to say it, but you know.

[ikeuluvr]

Can I Have This Dance? || Park Jongseong

synopsis - long distance sucks. especially when your boyfriend can't be with you to be your date to your very last high school dance. good thing bf!jay has a few tricks up his sleeve.

non-idol!jay x fem!reader / established long distance relationship - angst + fluff / warnings - none! / word count ~1.7k

part of ikeuluvr's song series ᵔᴗᵔ — works inspired by songs! requests are open for other songs + anything else you would like to see from me <3

masterlist join my taglist

Jay stares longingly into his phone screen, a soft smile pursed on his lips as he watches you show off your final look for the school dance over FaceTime, “You look absolutely beautiful honey,” he hums, his eyes raking over the entire screen to take in all of you, “I’m so sorry I can’t be there to be your super sexy date.”

You let out that adorable laugh that Jay loves so much, making his heart flutter as you walk to your bed and sit on the edge. Your endeared smile falters a little bit, turning into a sadder one as your eyes glance away from your phone screen, “Don’t apologize, Jay, it’s not like it’s your fault. Besides, you’ll be here next week, so there’s no reason to be sad.”

Jay has always hated the way you act like being long-distance isn’t killing you even though he knows it is. Your positive outlook on life is the greatest thing he admires about you, but he also wishes you’d let your walls down and tell him what you’re really feeling. You both know it hasn’t been easy since he moved across the country 8 months ago for his mom’s job, going from seeing each other every day to every few months. It was even worse knowing it was right before the beginning of your Senior year, forcing you to miss out on all the major “lasts” of high school together.

“Hey…” Jay starts to say softly, “Look at me, sweetie.” Your head tilts to face your phone screen again, meeting Jay’s apologetic eyes through the electronic barrier. “You know you don’t have to pretend like you’re not upset, right? You can tell me if you’re sad, Y/N.”

A soft sigh falls from your lips knowing he’s right; hell, he’s always right. You can see the look in his eyes that you know so well—the gentle, pleading look that makes you both guilty and adored at the same time, “I know, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to feel bad, and honestly, pretending that it is okay is helping me not create a puddle of tears right now,” you huff as you fiddle with the frill of your dress.

An immediate frown forms on Jay’s lips, his heart clenching at the mere thought of you crying, “Oh honey, don’t cry! Your makeup is way too perfect to ruin right now,” he chuckles, a soft smile overtaking his face to try and get you to smile too. With success, your frown turns upward slightly, the tears threatening to fall sucking back in, “There’s my girl…” Jay cheeses, “Don’t let that frown turn upside down again tonight, you hear me? You’re going to have the best time with your friends, take the most jaw-dropping photos that I’ll drool over later, and party the night away. Just make sure to save a dance for me, yeah?”

You nod with the same sad smile painted on your face as you stare at your boyfriend through the screen. Right on time, the doorbell rings downstairs meaning that your friends have arrived to pick you up, “Shoot, I have to go, love.”

“No worries, baby. Have so much fun tonight, okay? Send me lots of pictures,” Jay tells you, a gentle smile on his lips to hide that he’s also devastated that he can’t be with you right now, “Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too. Talk to you later,” you blow a kiss at the screen to which Jay catches on his end with a soft laugh. You both hang up, the new silence of the bedroom deafening. With a heavy heart, you grab your heels and purse before heading downstairs to meet your friends.

୨♡୧

The music blasting in the gymnasium is almost overwhelming as you sit at the table you and your friends claimed in the corner. The bass booms in your chest and your ears ring as each song plays; the stench of teenage sweat and pre-gamed alcohol fills your nose with every passing second. The night had been hard enough with you being the only member of your group without a date, having to take pictures alone, and now watching everyone slow dance while their eyes glimmer with love. You tried hard to at least pretend like you were having fun by keeping a smile on your face just as Jay asked you to during your call that evening, but as the night progressed, it was becoming impossible.

The final straw of the night snuck up on you as you watched your friend get dragged onto the dance floor by her boyfriend, leaving you entirely alone at the table. A choked sigh caught in your throat as you felt your eyes turn glossy thinking about how Jay should be sitting next to you right now—how Jay should have his arms around your waist as you cling to him on the dance floor—how Jay should be laughing as you embarrass him with your obscene dance skills—how Jay should be taking cringy photos with you in front of the ugly backdrop—how Jay should be here.

A single tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek as you sniffle softly, this supposed “magical night” turning into what will become a miserable memory. As you wipe away the lonely tear with your hand, a gentle tap on the edge of your shoulder makes your body flinch in place.

“No thanks, I’m really not in the mood to dance right now,” you say through a sniffle to whoever is behind you.

“Wow, babe. Even with me?”

Your head raises, the tears and sniffles coming to an immediate halt as you hear the voice of the person hovering over you. As you slowly turn around in your chair, your entire body falls numb and your brain scrambles to figure out if you’re hallucinating this moment. It’s like time stops once you see him towering over you with a bright smile plastered onto his face, a plastic box with a corsage matching the color of your dress in his hands.

“Jay?” you question almost in a whisper, entirely in disbelief that your boyfriend is standing before you in the flesh.

“Who else would it be, love?” he laughs, his shoulders rising and falling as he does. Without another beat, your body catapults out of the seat to attach to his, your head falling into the crook of his neck, exactly where it’s supposed to be. His arms instinctively find their home around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer to him and lays a feather-like kiss on your neck.

Jay feels the wetness of your tears on his skin, making him shiver slightly before he pulls away just enough to see your face. His hands move from your hips to cup your cheeks as he wipes your tears with the pads of his thumbs with a soft laugh, “Hey… hey, hey, hey don’t cry, pretty girl. Your mascara’s already running, baby.”

“Why- are you- how are you- here?” you ask in between gasps for air, making Jay laugh a little bit harder as he holds your face in his hands like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

He shrugs with a sly smile, “Let’s just say I booked my flight for a week too early.”

You let out a half-exasperated laugh as you take a step back to wipe your tears with the sides of your hands, “God, you’re so freaking insane.”

“Only insane for you, my love.” Jay coos and leans in to leave a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger on your skin for a brief moment.

Your eyes roll at his retort, a smile finally making its way onto your lips as the waves of shock start to leave your body. Jay chuckles as he watches you come back down to Earth, his hand raising to brush a few strands of hair out of your face.

“Is that for me?” you ask him, glancing down at the corsage in his hand.

“Oh yeah!” he exclaims, seemingly to have forgotten about it already. Jay pops the box open carefully and pulls out the corsage while you raise your right hand to let him put it on you. He pulls the elastic and gently slides it over your wrist, “There we go. Do you like it?”

You nod frantically, your eyes still glazed over from the earlier tears with a stupid happy smile on your face. Jay caresses your cheek gently as you admire the corsage on your wrist, moving his thumb to wipe away the last remnants of mascara from under your eye before speaking again, “Now… I asked you to save a dance for me, didn’t I?” he asks as he holds his hand out for you to take, “Can I have this dance?”

Without another thought, your hand is in his as he guides you to the dance floor, his hands grasping onto your waist and your arms wrapping around his neck as the song starts to play. The two of you sway to the rhythm like one entity, a comfortable silence falling in between you while you savor the feeling of being able to touch one another again. Jay pulls you closer tenderly until your bodies are pressed together with not a sliver left between you. He plants a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose making you giggle.

“I wish you never have to leave again,” you suddenly say somberly, causing Jay’s heart to drop.

He sighs with a sad smile, nodding in agreement, “I know, me too, love,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he can see your face, “But even a thousand miles can’t keep us apart, cause my heart is wherever you are, my sweet girl.”

Your eyes gloss over again as you take in his words, your heart overflowing with love and adoration, “I love you,” you tell him faintly as the two of you continue to move to the song blaring around you.

Jay pulls you even closer, letting your head rest against his shoulder, allowing him to kiss the top of your head and mumble into your hair, “I love you more, Y/N.”

@jellyluv4eva @wonnieluv

[moody-alcoholic]

Homecoming

Summary: Johnny x reader. WC: 1.9K Johnny comes home from deployment and well he's been gone for 3 weeks what do you think is going to happen.

I wrote this to try and kick the block. I've proof read it like once. 😅 Now it's become a whole thing and there may be multiple parts..

CW: +18 content MDNI. Sex, smut, PiV sex, fingering.

Enjoy <3

___

When Johnny comes home your world feels complete. From the moment you hear the front door close, then the sound of him dropping his bag and kicking his boots off in the hall. It’s past midnight and you hear him trying to sneak up the steps. 

You smile waiting for the bedroom door to open and to feel him climbing into bed with you. Instead you hear the bathroom door and the shower start. You’re too excited to go back to sleep but at the same time you yawn pulling the duvet round yourself tighter. 

You’re not exactly in the mood to get out of bed. It doesn’t matter though because before long you hear the shower stop and the bedroom door open. You turn over in the bed as he crawls in, even in the dark you can still make out his features. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you love.” He says as he lays down, you press yourself against him and his arms wrap around you.

“I’ve missed you.” You reply, resting your head on his chest, breathing him in. It’s a familiar smell you’ve missed, it immediately grounds you and you relax into his embrace.

“I’ve missed you too.” he replies, kissing the top of your head. 

You let out a sigh and close your eyes. He’s home and he’s safe, hes here, for the next few weeks at least.

…

Johnny wakes first, he’s still on that military time. If it wasn’t for the fact he woke in the same bed as the most beautiful thing in the world, he fears he would have been dressed and out the door before the sun rose. 

Instead he gets to watch you sleep, watch your chest rise and fall with each breath. He can’t help himself, running his hands over your body. You start to wake and he reaches over, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back up against his chest. 

“Mornin’” Johnny mumbles into your neck. You smile tipping your head back so he can plant a kiss on your soft skin. 

“Christ love. I’ve missed every part of you.” He says, his voice low still filled with sleep. It makes warmth boom in your core. 

“I’ve missed you too. Where were you this time?” You ask. 

“Here and there.” he says, pressing his face deeper into your neck leaving little kisses on your shoulders. His hand slips under your top reaching up and grabbing one of your breasts. You smile pressing your hips closer to him, you can feel how hard he is already. 

Typical Johnny to come back from a 3 week deployment and the first thing he wants to do is fuck. You’re not going to complain, rewarding his touches with a little moan or a grind of your hips. His fingers squeeze your nipple and it sends pulses down to your pussy. 

You need this, need him, his touch and his kisses. Toys are not the same even though he’s not shy about asking you to put on a show for him while he's away. Things with Johnny can feel so rushed, so hectic but right now his first day back from deployment you know he’s going to take it slow. 

His hands feel round your body like it’s his first time touching you, his tongue and mouth lingering on the soft skin of your neck. You feel the ache rising inside you, you’re desperate for him, but you’ll be patient. 

“How many times did you play with yourself while I was gone?” He whispers in your ear. 

“You know how many times.” You tease him back. You sent him plenty of video’s to keep him busy. He hums in your ear and he presses his hips against you. You swallow the saliva building in your mouth. You want to turn around and kiss him, but his arms keep you locked in place. 

He moves his hand from your breast reaching down to the front of your underwear. You rock your hips again arching your back, not like you need to give him any more permission to touch you. His hand slips in and he lets out a breath as he reaches down to your folds. 

You feel his cock twitch as he pushes his finger between them finding your clit. The contact makes you moan, it feels like all the air has left your lungs as he presses another finger in. 

“Perfect love.” He says kissing your shoulder. His fingers dip down to your entrance, you’re wet already, he gathers some of your slick before moving back up to your clit. His other arm reaches around your chest pulling you tighter against him. Now his cock is pressing against your ass. You reach round with one of your hands feeling the waistband of his boxers. 

You slip your hand in finding the hot tip of his cock and run your hand down it as far as you can. His fingers press harder on your clit, his other hand moving to squeeze one of your breasts. He needs this, you can feel how wet he is already, precum smeared in your palm. 

You wrap your hand round the head of his cock giving it gentle strokes in time with his fingers on your clit. He likes that, moaning in your ear, telling you how much he’s missed you. He never stops, his fingers slowly driving you towards the peak. You’re not sure how he does it, being so calm and controlled, how he will wait and let you come first when you know the only thing he’s been able to think about for 3 weeks is fucking you until you can't walk. That will come later.

“Johnny,” you moan his name, you’re close. Your strokes on his cock have become sporadic as you chase the high. 

“Yeah baby, that's it.” He breathes in your ear, it’s enough to force you over the edge. You shake against him as you cum, his fingers riding you through the orgasm, his name leaving your lips over and over again. 

You know he likes that, hearing you moan his name. His cock twitches in your hand slowly bringing you back to reality. You lay there for a few seconds focusing on your breathing and the satisfying feeling pulsing through you. Johnny pulls his hand out your pants and you hear him hum as he sucks on his fingers. 

You smile trying to turn over but he stops you. You frown as he moves, you pull your hand out his boxers. When his hand comes back to travel down your back you know what he wants reaching down to shimmy your PJ’s and underwear off. 

One of his hands grips your ass as you pull your knees up to your chest, he pulls the duvet back so he can get a proper look at you. 

“3 weeks was too long.” He says, you nod, feeling his finger press against your entrance. He lays back down getting comfy behind you again. His chest still pressed against your back. He pushes his fingers into you can’t help clenching around them which just causes him to press them in further. He curls them up slightly rubbing on the soft spot inside you. 

The one you’ve never managed to reach on your own but Johnny gets every time, first time without fail. 

“Still so nice and tight even after all the fun you had.” he says pulling his fingers out. You almost whine only to feel them immediately replaced with the head of his cock. 

“It’s not the same without you.” you smile. He chuckles and presses into you. You grip the bedding moaning with him as he stretches you out. Definitely not the same as your toys. His hand comes to pull your waist so you’re flush against him. 

Tears form in your eyes, clenching round him again. This time he moans your name hot in your ear as he starts to thrust into you. Each thrust sends pulses through your body, you let him do what he needs, whatever he needs to do to feel like he’s home. 

His groans and moans in your ear are amazing making your clit throb. You move your hand down to press against it, rubbing circles in time with each buck of his hips. The stream of praises doesn't stop either. 

“So fuckin’ perfect for me baby.” 

“Missed you so much. Thought about you every day.” 

“My gorgeous, precious girl.”  

Sometimes you reply, other times you’re so focused on the feeling of him inside you all that come out are moans. He chuckles when that happens, slowing his thrusts to give you a second to enjoy the feel of his cock twitching in you. 

“I love you so much Johnny.” You say as you get close. You’re grinding down on him now even though he’s using his hand to try and keep you in place. 

“I love you too baby.” You can feel the change in his movement, his breathing picks up and his fingers dig into your waist. 

“Cum with me baby.” He says through gritted teeth, you nod frantically. Your mouth tips open and close your eyes as you cum. He cums too, his thrusts stopping as he throbs inside you. His hand moves from your hip and presses on the hand still circling your clit. You moan at the overstimulation squeezing his cock and twitching under his hand. 

He chuckles and you feel him pull out, you turn in the bed before he can stop you this time. You reach up, pressing your lips on his. He smiles before kissing you back and pressing his tongue into your mouth. 

You both hum into eachothers mouths, you’ve missed his taste, his touch. You’ve missed everything about him, it never gets any easier. He pulls away from the kiss first, his hand coming to brush your chin. You smile at him watching his deep blue eyes twinkle, he looks tired he has dark bags under his eyes.  

No matter what you say to him he won’t have you lifting a finger. You tell him it’s not fair that you should be the one doing this for him as he carries you to the shower. He just tuts fussing over you, you both wash each other spending way too long in the shower. 

When you finally convince him to get out so you can make some food he’s tired again. You want to let him sleep but you don’t want him to mess up his schedule. 

“Coffee and breakfast first.” You kiss him on the cheek and tell him you’ll meet him downstairs. You’re surprised when he actually does come down and sits at the kitchen table. You put a mug of coffee down for him and go over to start some eggs. 

“I was wondering. If you want to of course. I have a friend I’d like you to meet.” He says coming up behind you while you’re at the stove wrapping his arms round your stomach. 

“A work friend?” You ask. 

“Yeah. I’d like to help him with something. I want him to meet you first.” He says, you frown. 

“Okay, you should invite him round for tea or something.” You say. He kisses your cheek, squeezing you tight. 

“Thank you. I’ll message him, he’ll probably be able to come round some time this week.” He says going back over to the table. You turn and smile at him, he already has his phone out. You’ve never met any of his work colleagues before. He always likes to keep some semblance of a work life balance. 

“What’s his name?” You ask, reaching over for a plate. 

“Simon, I think you’ll really like him.” 

___

If you squint its really a Ghoap fic in disguise

[elliewrites77]

Uncle!Sukuna Part 5

Uncle!Sukuna who was annoyed that he hadn't been able to see you much since your date. Over the weekend, there had been an issue at his bar that required his full attention. He had practically been there for a full 48 hours, having left Yuji with you. Other then messaging you the little he could, he hadn't been able to talk to you much.

He was a little nervous to, honestly. The last thing you had done was kiss before he did the gentleman thing and went to his own house. But the longer you guys went not talking about it, not discussing what this meant for you both, the more anxious he felt. He hated these new feelings, how vulnerable they made him feel. He hated how he was already, in a matter of days, missing your smile, the way you smiled when Yuji and Choso started bickering about who the best superhero was and why, the way you laugh when Sukuna said some stupid joke or lighthearted insult, the way you got soft and gentle when one of the boys got hurt playing. He hated how badly he wanted to see you again, to kiss you. He hated that he had only kissed you once but could already tell he was addicted. He hated what you were doing to him, because whatever it was felt amazing in a way he never knew what he was missing out on before you.

Uncle!Sukuna who is back at home the Monday after valentines. You were already at work, the boys at school, so he finds himself sleeping through the day, before waking up to his front door opening and the loud sound of hurried footsteps.

He sits up in bed, a bit groggy, right as his bedroom door is thrown open. A little figure launches itself into his lap. He grunts before looking down at the little boy who looks so much like himself.

"Get off, brat." He grunts. He makes no move to make the boy listen though.

"You're back! We saw your car in the 'way. You've been gone for sooo long." Yuji pouted, which didn't suit his usually smiling face. Sukuna pitches Yuji's cheek while rolling his eyes.

"It was only two days, twerp." He looks at Choso, standing in the open doorway.

Sukuna had gotten a bit closer with the boy over the past few weeks, but he was still a bit shy and awkward, like now. It was clear the older kid didn't know what to due with himself while in Sukuna's space.

"Where's your mom?"

Choso glances down the hall from the direction they had come.

"In the kitchen, I think. She brought you dinner, we ate out today."

Uncle!Sukuna who stands up, throwing Yuji over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The boy laughs like it's a ride, gripping Sukuna's shirt for extra stability. The man walks towards Choso, ruffling his dark hair in fondness, before leading them towards the kitchen.

He stops when he sees you, looking over some papers you must have brought while sitting at his kitchen island. The way you're so relaxed, doing something so simple as that, but so fitting in his home, it makes his heart beat irregulate.

Sukuna sets Yuji down before approaching you. At the sound of their footsteps, you turn. He swears his heart stops for a moment when you give him a bright smile, looking at him with some emotion he didn't quite understand yet but knew it might be his undoing.

He greets you, a little awkward since he's not sure where you two stand. He wants to kiss you, like a husband would kiss his wife after a long day, but doesn't know if you would want that too. Plus, with the boys in the same room, he knows it isn't the best idea. So he settles for a nod and gruff hey before you point out the food you had brought for him.

Uncle!Sukuna who likes it when you and the boys sit with him at the dining table. Despite having eaten, the three of you join him to chat while he eats. Yuji tells him about his weekend and school, with you and Choso chiming in every so often. Eventually, though, the boys get bored and run off to Yuji's room.

Once alone, he almost wants to ask if he's been on your mind as much as you've been on his, if that kiss and date meant the same for you that it did him. But before he can even try to, you ask him about work and the emergency he had to take care of. He tells you about it, not going too deep into the boring details.

You two talk for a while, about nothing special. There's a tension there, not necessarily negative, but still. It's clear that both of you want to say something, but are apparently too scared to do so.

But Sukuna doesn't want to be a coward. He doesn't want to keep pushing this to the side, telling himself he'll bring it up later. There was no better time like the present.

He opens his mouth, starting to say your name when the sound of shattering glass gets both of your attentions. On autopilot, you both stand and quickly make your way to the hall. Reaching Yuji's room, you look inside to see Choso standing with a small pile of glass at his feet, holding his hand with a pained look while Yuji stands nearby, looking a little scared.

Both of you rush towards the older boy, but Sukuna beats you to him. He picks your son up under his armpits, holding him as if he weighed nothing, and carrying him a safe distance away from the glass. You guide Yuji around it as well before joining Sukuna to kneel in front of Choso. As the man looks at the small cut on Choso's finger, you make sure your son was okay.

"Cho, baby, what happened?"

Choso avoids looking at Sukuna directly. Knowing your son, you knew he was afraid the man would be mad.

"Honey, I'm sure it was an accident. Sukuna won't be upset, just tell us." You tried to reassure, glancing at the man next to you, hoping that you were correct. He focuses on getting the glass out of Choso's finger.

"Yuji was showing me a picture of his mom and dad. He asked me to get it out of the frame so he could add it to his project, but when I tried to the glass cut me and I dropped it." He explained in a small voice. You rubbed his cheek lovingly,

Sukana hardly reacted at the mention of the photo. He knew Yuji had it, of course. He even knew his nephew would sometimes talk to it, as if talking to his parents for real. It made his chest hurt in a weird way, but he knew the grieving process wouldn't be easy.

But his lack of reaction makes Choso worry slightly.

"I'm sorry, Sukuna. I should've brought it to you."

Sukuna looked up, staring at the boy with an indifferent expression.

"Nah brat, Yuji should've brought it to me. But it's fine either way, just be more careful next time. Don't need either of you getting hurt." he says, standing. He looks to his nephew, who looks a little shy after hearing his own name. Shaking his head, he pats the kids head in a silent effort to show Yuji it was okay, that he wasn't mad.

You stood too, giving Sukuna he favorite smile, soft and fond, before taking your sons good hand.

"Where's your first aid kit?" You asked. Sukuna stared at you for a long second.

Yes, he had one. But he had only bought one at the insistence of Yuji's former social worker, and couldn't remember at all where it was. So he stood there, wracking his brain to try and remember. You watched him, getting confused the longer he went without answering.

"Oh! I have it, Uncle Kuna put it in my backpack." Yuji suddenly exclaims, grabbing said bag and opening it up. Sukuna furrows his brow, unable to recall doing such a thing. But when he sees Yuji pull out a small, mobile first aid kit (really just a box of spiderman band aids and antibiotic ointment), he remembers doing it after the first week of school, when Yuji came home with multiple small wounds from rough play.

You smile again, taking the box and walking off with Choso to the bathroom down the hall. Once you're gone, Sukuna glances between Yuji and the pile of glass, which he now sees is laying over a picture of his brother and his sister-in-law holding a baby Yuji with large grins. Even Yuji is grinning in the photo.

Uncle!Sukuna who picks the picture up, careful of the glass. He examines it for a moment. Looking at it now, seeing the smiling face of his brother, he can't help but wish he had done more to stay in touch. He wished he had gotten the chance to have a better relationship with Jin, be a better brother than what he was.

Uncle!Sukuna who looks at Yuji, and in that moment, promises himself that he would be a better uncle. He might not get his brother back, might not ever be able to make up for the lack of relationship between them, but he would do better with Yuji. He would be more involved, more active in his life. He was a shit brother, sure, but he vowed to be a great ass Uncle.

✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃

Uncle!Sukuna who still drives you and the boys to school/work, despite you insisting that he didn't have to bother. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he enjoyed spending the mornings with you. So despite it being his week off, he wants to drive you. Plus, it wouldn't be fair to you to just expect you to be responsible for Yuji that often. So he still does it, using the drive home to try and think of the best way to ask you out again. He hadn't had the chance to speak to you, alone, about anything between you yet, mostly because he's been busy trying to help Yuji with a class project.

Turns out, he had wanted to add a picture of his parents to a project of 'people you admire' (Sukuna had to take a moment when he saw his own picture already on the poster, Yuji got extra ice cream that night). So he had spent most of the week helping with that. So far Yuji had pictures of Sukuna, his parents, you, Choso, spiderman, his friends Megumi and Nobara, and Jennifer Lawrence (Sukuna was pretty sure the brat had a crush on the actress, though he wouldn't admit it).

But since it was almost the end of the week, he had a plan. He would have to find alternative child care, since Toji refused to babysit the boys overnight again. Something about how those three together was a recipe for disaster. But other than that, he had everything thought out perfectly.

Uncle!Sukuna who gets a call from the school, that same day, a few hours later. He's surprised when he hears the voice from the lady in the front office, but even more surprised when she tells him that Yuji got into a fight. His 6 year old nephew, got into a fight.

Part of him was proud, but a new part of him was disappointed.

Uncle!Sukuna who made his way to the school once more. As soon as he got there, the secretary showed him to the principles office, where Yuji was sitting with his head down. The way he looked so small made Sukuna instantly glare at the principle, making the man shiver behind his desk.

Principle Yaga stands, nodding to Sukuna as a greeting before introducing himself. There's an awkward silence as Sukuna doesn't reply, simply remains glaring before gruffly asking what happened.

"It seems there was a conflict between Yuji and another student during recess. The teachers say that the boys were playing, when the other student said something that seemed to upset your nephew. He lunged at the student, and from there, both were throwing punches." Yaga explains, sitting back down. Sukuna plops down in the chair next to Yuji, who's head remains down.

"What did he say?" Sukuna says, voice low.

"Excuse me?"

"What. Did. the kid. Say?"

Yaga glances at Yuji, before his gaze goes back to the man.

"He won't say. Neither will the other student, which is to be expected.

Sukuna remained silent for a minute, staring at the wooden desk in thought. It's awkward for a moment, especially for Yaga. Then, Sukuna looks to his nephew.

"They deserve it?"

His words shock Yaga, who's too stunned to reply. He watches as Yuji nods slightly, not lifting his head.

That's all that Sukuna needs to be ready to leave. So he stands, which makes Principle Yaga stammer. Before another word could be said, another knock on the office door is heard. Eyes turn to the door when it opens to reveal you.

"Principle Yaga, I'm sorry to interrupt. I've just spoke with Choso, and I thought it might be better if I handled this. Mr. Ryomen and I are familiar with each other, and the boys are close." You explained. Yaga smiled, professional and a little relieved as he nods. At his approval, you look to Sukuna.

Uncle!Sukuna who sees something in your eyes, something sad though you try to hide it. Your smile is clearly forced, even as Yuji finally stands and makes his way to you. He hugs himself into your waste for a moment, a hug that you return, before moving past you to stand near Choso in the hall.

You lead the three of them to your office, letting them inside and letting the boys sit on a small couch in the corner. Sukuna sits in the chair across from you, a frown on his face as soon as he notices the frown on yours.

"We already handled it. Yuji said the little shit deserved it." He says, needing to break the silence. You sigh, looking at the man.

"Did he tell you what the kid said?" You asked, glancing to the two quiet boys.

Sukuna shook his head, doing the same as you and taking a look at the boys.

"He said...something about Choso. Something that, I honestly can't say I would react differently at his age." You say, fatigue clear in your voice. Your words made Sukuna even more confused. "Yuji, please tell your Uncle what Toya said to you."

Yuji finally lifted his head, showing his bruising face and bandaged lip. Sukuna never would have imagined 6 year olds could fight like that.

"He...he said that Choso didn't have a dad because he wasn't good enough for one, because dads don't stay when their sons are too weak." He said, his voice as small as he looked. Next to him, Choso kept his head down, trying to stay strong.

Sukuna felt a fury he hadn't felt in a long time. Now he had always said he would never hurt a kid, but he couldn't deny that the idea of smacking this 'Toya' so hard his face looked worse then Yuji's sounded like a pretty good one.

While Sukuna is holding back rage, you're holding back tears. The cruel words said about your own son, they made you feel guilty.

"I..I appreciate you standing up for Choso, Yuji, and I'm sure he does too. But we can't handle bullying with violence. Not to mention that I don't want you getting hurt, and I'm sure Choso doesn't either." You spoke gently, though there was a firmness in your words that you had perfected throughout your job.

Sukuna stared at his nephew until the boy met his eyes. Sukuna hated seeing the bruises on his face. He hated seeing how small both boys looked, hated how he didn't know what to say to help. He wasn't fit for comfort, and all he could think to say would probably be a direct contrast to what you were trying to say. No violence? That's all he knew how to do when it comes solving problems, especially problems like this.

"You'll have to apologize to Toya, just like he will apologize to you. Then, Principle Yaga wants me to sit down with you...and your guardian...about the wrongs of fighting." You said after a minute of silence. Your hesitation was obvious, and Sukuna knew why.

He groaned, throwing his head back at your words. Even with you being the one giving this 'talk', it still sounds awful. You can't help but fight back a small smile at his groan, despite the situation. It doesn't last though, when you look back to your son.

Sukuna, after his little tantrum, followed your gaze. He saw how the 8 year old was curled up, as if hiding himself from the world. He couldn't tell if this was due to what was said about him, or due to the fact that Yuji had gotten hurt for him. Choso had become a little protective of his younger friend, doing what he could to keep Yuji from harm. So you could imagine how upsetting it must be for the kid to watch Yuji get beat up over him.

Before you could even figure out what to say, at least that you haven't already, you're surprised by Sukuna's words,

"Y'not weak kid, especially not cause some asshat left you and your mom. If anyone is weak, it's the deadbeat who couldn't handle something good."

Choso shared your sentiment of surprise, finally looking up to stare at him with widened eyes. Not longer after, they softened with appreciation, a small smile coming to his face. He was still sad, that was clear, but Sukuna's words, plus the fact that the man wouldn't say anything he didn't mean especially on his own accord, helped him feel a little better.

Seeing Choso smile encouraged Yuji to as well. Even though it wasn't his usual bright grin, you and Sukuna still saw his joy. You knew this didn't resolve the issue, not really, and that you'd have to have a conversation about Choso's dad soon, as well as follow up with the 'punishment' for Yuji (and Sukuna apparently). But you let the four of you have a moment of reprieve.

Uncle!Sukuna who stops by to get food on the way home, his effort to cheer up the boys more, though he says it's because he's hungry and this whole 'issue' stopped him from having lunch.

As you all sit in his car at the fast food restaurant parking lot, talking to the boys (who are feeling a lot better with their shakes) and making jokes, you take a moment to look at Sukuna. You admire his grin after throwing a fry at Yuji, the ways his eyes light up when messing around with the boys, how he talks to Choso as if he was...something more than a neighbor and friend. And he was, he was so much more.

✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃

thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this series! I am truly grateful for all the love it's gotten. Please lmk what you think, I really do appreciate any constructive criticism. I want to create something people enjoy, within my creative control at least, so letting me know if I'm including something you don't like, or doing something like rambling too much, anything like that, helps me do better!

I hope everyone has a lovely day and weekend (it's friday for me), and I'm sending virtual hugs to everyone who's be so so supportive <33

once again, barely proofread.

[trentln4]

"An Unspoken Love" - Part Two

Summary: Y/N has been dodging Lando out of fear of ruining the friendship and in revenge Lando has a girl round, which pisses of Y/N but he quickly sets things right.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Slight Angst.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Series

The next two weeks felt like hell for Lando. Y/N deliberately spent no time in the apartment, she was either “studying” or “out with friends”. Fuck. That’s all he could think. Did he just ruin his friendship with his best friend and roommate?

She spent as little time in the apartment. She just couldn’t bring herself to face him as she thought she would get heartbroken. Did she just ruin her friendship with her best friend and roommate?

The less time she spent in the apartment, the more pissed Lando got. 

One night, Y/N was peacefully studying in her room. Headphones on, typing away at the laptop. Then she heard a noise through Lando’s walls. 

“Oh my.. Yes Lando”

That cunt had a girl round. 

Her heart felt like it shattered. Yes, she had been avoiding him but only to protect herself. She shut her eyes tight, her heart beating a million miles an hour. As much as she was ignoring him, she slightly hoped he would man up and admit he wanted her. But no. He was fucking another girl.

The next morning, Y/N left her room. Lando had obviously just let the girl out the front door of the apartment. 

“Oh nice to know you still exist,” Lando remarked as he spotted her.

“Oh shut up!” She retorted. 

Lando looked at her, shocked and angry but most of all hurt.

“What?” Y/N snapped.

“Why are you ignoring me Y/N?” Lando asked, trying to keep his voice normal.

“Who was that girl?” She questioned, her voice cold.

“Just a one night stand. She meant nothing,” He answered, “Why?”

“Did I mean nothing to you?” Her voice was shaky, so were her hands. 

“What? Y/N no!” Lando immediately tried reaching out for her, but she pulled away.

She glared at him, her tone cold, 

“So why did you sleep with another girl?!” She spat out.

“Y/N, you're being unreasonable! You and me, we kissed once, and then you’ve been avoiding me ever since so we don't talk! If anyone has been in the wrong, it's you!”

Y/N threw her hands in the air, grabbed her bag and stormed out.

-

It was a wet, rainy day in Monaco, clouds dimming the sky and blocking out any rays of sunshine that tried to filter through. Y/N felt as miserable as the weather was and due to this, she decided to come home earlier from her study session in the university library. 

Y/N walked in, placing her bag down and taking her, now drenched, hoodie off. Her hair was dripping and the long sleeve white shirt she had on underneath was going see-through, not to mention her joggers too. With that she quickly rushed into her room; she knew Lando was home.

As she opened her door, her jaw dropped. 

First of all, her bed was made. But most importantly, there sat Lando. He smiled softly at her, a bouquet of white roses in hand. 

“Lando, get out,” She demanded, all though she didn’t actually mean it. He shook his head and placed the flowers on the pillow before Y/N gave in, sitting next to him.

Lando grabbed her hands in his, his hands almost completely covering hers. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry about last night and earlier.. It was a dick move to get your attention..” He admitted, looking in her deep hazel eyes, “In all honesty, I’ve missed you.. That kiss meant everything to me..”

Y/N sat there, listening, his thumbs rubbing over her knuckles.

“You mean that?” She asked quietly. Lando nodded in response, before mumbling, “I love you Y/N..”

Her heartbeat quickened, her jaw was agape.

“Y-you love me..?” She questioned, her voice stuttering and shaking. Lando nodded, gently brushing some hair out her face,

“I love you Y/N”

She cupped his face with her hands, crashing her lips onto his in a passionate kiss. Fuck, it felt so right. He kissed her back, one hand finding the nape of her neck while the other snaked around her waist to pull her closer. 

“God, I love you too Lando..” She murmured in between kisses before he pushed his tongue in her mouth. She moaned out breathlessly into the kiss, meanwhile his tongue delved into her mouth, tasting every inch he could.

His hand on her waist slid under the waistband of her joggers, coming to rest on her hips as he pulled away before he pushed her to lay flat on the bed and settled himself in between her legs. His face was above hers, and he kissed again. His tongue dove into her mouth straight away as she whimpered into the kiss. His hand dipped further into her joggers, ever so slightly grazing over her lace underwear. He pulled his head back, silently asking for permission and she nodded.

Their lips met again, this time slower as Lando traced his middle finger over her core through her panties, feeling the soaked material. His lips left hers, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down her neck as he slid her joggers off, leaving her exposed beneath him. Y/N tilted her head back giving him more access as he continued his assault on her neck as his middle and ring finger rubbed through her folds, making her whimper and squirm.

“You want this Y/N?” Lando asked, looking in her eyes. She nodded breathlessly, before he pushed his middle finger into her dripping cunt. Oh fuck. Y/N moaned, the feeling was perfect, it was all she had ever wanted. Lando showed no mercy, pumping his finger in and out before adding another, then another. She moaned and squirmed under him, her lips parted and face flushed as he continued until she came on his fingers. He moaned at the sight, her eyes tight shut as she clenched around him. 

He gave her a second before withdrawing his fingers, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Y/N couldn't help the whimper that fell from her lips. Lando stood up, quickly discarding his clothes near hers. She gasped as she looked down at his length, standing tall with pre-cum leaking from the tip. How the fuck would that fit? It was massive.

“Lan.. that isn’t going to fit..” She mumbled as he settled back in between her legs.

“We will make it fit, don't worry,” He smiled softly at her, one thumb running over her bottom lip as he held her chin, meanwhile his other hand slid her panties down her legs and threw them to the side. She whimpered again, but he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and reassuring, while he lazily stroked himself. He rubbed his cock through her folds, acting like a lube before he aligned himself. She kept her lips on his, her arms around his neck so he was close to her as he pushed in. Oh wow.

Lando let out a groan as he bottomed out, feeling her warm walls around him. He removed his lips from hers and pulled out, only to slam himself back in, leaving Y/N moaning. 

His thrusts were deep and slow, his eyes locked on hers as he grabbed his shoulders to keep herself stable.

“Lando, please.. faster,” She breathlessly cried out, making Lando grin. He grabbed her legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed, still deep in her. He bent her legs and pushed them to her chest before leaning over her, hands either side of her head. Y/N gasped as his hips slammed against hers rougher and sloppier while his pace increased. 

“You like that baby? You like being manhandled?” He asked panting, as a sweat dripped down his face. He looked at her beneath him, moaning and gripping the sheets to stay grounded. God she's beautiful. It was all he could think.

Each thrust made her see stars and she felt her orgasm approaching quick, maybe too quickly. Lando could feel her squeezing him and he let out a growl, “You close?” 

All Y/N could do was nod.

It didn’t take long for her to finish as she clutched around him, letting loud moans slip past her lips. Lando slowed down, letting her ride out the pleasure before pulling out and using his hand to finish himself off. His thick ropes landed on her stomach as they both came down from their highs.

Lando’s eyes softened at her before laying on the bed, holding his arms wide open and she happily rolled into them. He kissed her forehead, rubbing her back softly,

“I love you Y/N,” He whispered as she laid in his arms. “I love you too Lan,” She murmured back.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Dorito my beloved, would u ever consider writing a Jason x reader blurb where reader has a bad day and in an attempt to cheer them up he either brings home their fav ice cream or frozen treat or takes them out to somewhere like cold stone creamery for ice cream, and then after a successful cheering up reader kisses him on the cheek and then he tells because COLD… it feels weird to send an ask I’ve never done it before so sorry if it comes off weird? Anyways I love your writing and I’m always pleased to see u pop up on my feed :)!

Oh what I wouldn’t give to have this man comfort me on the shitty days.

Jason knew that as of recent there was storm cloud hanging over you. You looked as horrible and you felt horrible and given how little you talked about it, the distant look in your eyes or how all you wanted to do was retreat to your room and go to sleep said it all for him. He understood that not everyday was going to be a good one but recently it seemed as though you had more of a shitty week then anything else, and you just didn’t want him to know about it, but unfortunately for you Jason was far more observant when it comes to you than most give him credit for.

And he knew just what might help ease that feeling of nothingness, of the numbness and perpetual exhaustion that riddled you right now.

‘Sweetheart?’ Jason popped his head through the doorway, spotting your unmoving form on your shared bed, taking this as his cue as he entered the bedroom to sit on the bed as close to you to you as he could. ‘I got you a little something that I know might cheer you up, even it’s a little bit.’

‘What?’ Your say shortly, already feeling as though saying any more would only drain you even further then you already were to begin with.

‘Ice cream.’ Jason replied as he sets aside quite a decent sized tub of honeycomb ice cream on the bedside table before moving to make himself comfortable in bed next to you, making sure to keep some distance between the two of you unless you asked for him to close the distance. You managed to muster out a weak ‘thank you’ to Jason as you sat yourself up against the headboard of the bed, reaching out to grab the tub of ice cream to your lap, not noticing that Jason had a tub of ice cream himself until you looked over at him shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth; which made his cheeks puff out much like that of a chipmunk.

Jason tended to be somewhat of a messy eater and it lead to quite humorous situations where you were left wiping sauce from his lips, crumbs from his cheeks and left over ice cream that had somehow missed his mouth. You might not have been feeling all that great of a week but you knew you could always count on Jason to remember things you’ve said in passing, and use it to his advantage to make you feel better despite whether or not he himself wasn’t feeling too up to it; it was something about him that you loved deeply and couldn’t help but admire.

Your sour moods, depressive states and moments of sadness never lasted long when you were with Jason as he always brought a sense of comfort, a sense of understanding when he coddled you against his chest while whispering sweet nothings against your forehead. He was your comfort, your strength and your guiding light all in one and you would forever be grateful for everything he’s ever done for you, even if you didn’t have the strength to do so but you’d always make up for it by letting him know that his hard work payed off by one simple act; smiling.

So as you continued to watch Jason inhale half of his ice cream, not waiting long enough to finish swallowing before shovelling in more of the cold sweet treat, and in a way that you worried that he would give himself major brain freeze. However you were more focused on just hoe full his cheeks were getting and the mess he was leaving all across his face, some part off you felt as though this was all an intentional shoe just to make you feel better, but another part of you appreciated that Jason was more then willing to look a little goofy and be a little silly if it meant making you forget everything that has left you wanting to wallow in eternal isolation.

You could feel the weight lift from your chest and the fog clear form your head slowly as you started to smile, only to let out a soft chuckle which caught on Jason’s ear as he stopped his shovelling to look at you with soft, attentive eyes. ‘What is it? Is there something on my face?’ He asked through a mouthful of ice cream as he began to touch his face with his hand, something that only proved in smearing ice cream further across his cheeks, which only added to the humour of it all as your cheeks were more or less hurting from how large your smile had become.

‘Yes, a lot of it if you don’t stop doing that!’ You replied as you reached over to swat away his hand in order to wipe the ice cream that had started to dry on his cheeks even, only pulling away when you were satisfied with your work. ‘There, that’s better you don’t look like a messy chipmunk now, just a full one.’ You teased as you kissed that very same cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your chilled lips from the ice cream as you smiled before pulling away, not forgetting the beautiful way his breath hitched the moment your lips met his warm skin. ‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever for gorgeous?’ Jason asks as he looked at you adoringly, happy to see you be at least somewhat better now. In truth his cheeks were starting to hurt from how much melting ice cream he was stuffing in them full, not that he’d ever tell you that as all he wanted was to offer you some light in your darkest times, much like how you did for him when he was in the same predicament you’re in now.

‘For being you, for making me feel better, for being here with me and most importantly being my anything and everything.’ You say to him as you set aside your now empty tub of ice cream to cuddle into his side, resting your head against his chest with his arms moving to keep you tethered to him, though not that you were complaining as you felt his lips cascade gently semi-chilled kisses across your face, forehead and nose.

‘You don’t ever have to thank me for anything darling.’ Jason whispered to you as he noses the side of your head, kissing it. ‘I’m just come here with one thing in mind and one thing only, to make my sweetheart smile again like they should be always.’ He adds as he hold you tighter against him, smiling to himself in victory that he had helped ease the conflict within your mind, even for a little while but Jason was more then willing to keep up the fight until you get better again to stand up on your own.