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fireladyofink · 2 days ago

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Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

What are some words or phrases you feel like you overuse?

What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

Would you ever accept requests or commissions?

Coffee or tea while you write?

What is your favorite line/section from [insert fic]?

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

What makes a fic 'successful' in your opinion?

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Do you have an 'official' creative writing background such as a degree or previous experience publishing?

What makes you happiest? New fic comments, kudos, bookmarks, user subscribers, story subscribers, or Tumblr asks?

Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

What do you struggle with most when writing?

What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

How many WIPs do you have and how many do you expect to finish?

How do you get over writer's block?

Share your favorite kiss scene from [insert fic]. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

What stops you from writing more in your free time?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Which scene/theme was the inspiration for [insert fic]?

Are there any moments in [insert fic] that feel "blurry" to you? Is this a stylistic choice, or would you go back and clarify the descriptions if you were given the chance?

Do you ever "prep" your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing, or do you just dive right in?

Are any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Have you noticed your style change over time?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

A character you enjoy making suffer.

A character you want to protect.

What is your favorite fic to get comments/messages on?

Wild Card: Ask me something else!

#questions #ask game #asks

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missarchive · 2 days ago

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motel six

spencer reid

cw; spencer reid x fem!reader, spencer gets caught jacking off, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, softdom!reader, sub!spencer, one bed troupe, oral (m. receiving), aftercare, unprotected p in v, spencer’s a little desperate and awkward (what’s new)

an; HIII ALLL!!! This is based on an ask I received earlier this month, but I have had a few similar ones so I finally made a fic for them. The truth is that I have been seeing a beautiful woman and she is taking up most of my time. BUT- I managed to sneak this one in. I will start posting more consistently again now that my writer’s block has finally disappeared. As always, please leave some feedback if you liked it (if you didn’t just know you’re stepping on my hopes and dreams). Love and miss u guys xoxo

wc; around 3k

Your stomach twists. A long day chasing leads and poring over case files has already left you drained, and now you have to share a room with someone? You glance around at your teammates, who are pairing off with little hesitation. Morgan claims a room with Rossi. Hotch and JJ take another. Emily and Garcia get the third. That leaves…

You turn your head just as Spencer Reid—resident genius, profiler extraordinaire, and your usual case partner—adjusts the strap of his bag with an unmistakable grimace. His hazel eyes dart to yours before flicking away, his jaw tightening.

Of course.

"Looks like it's you and me, Reid," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he nods stiffly and brushes past you toward the room number scribbled on the keycard sleeve. Your stomach sinks further, but you push down the unease and follow.

The room is as underwhelming as expected: beige walls, scratchy-looking blankets, and a single queen bed shoved against one side. A rickety wooden chair sits near the window, but otherwise, the space is cramped.

Spencer stops in the doorway, his whole body tensing. "You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair."

You frown. "Reid, that thing looks like it’ll collapse if you breathe on it too hard. We can just—"

"I said I’ll sleep in the chair," he snaps, dropping his go-bag by the door.

The sharpness in his voice catches you off guard. Spencer is always a little awkward, sometimes distant, but rarely outright rude. You watch as he rubs his temple, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he might crack a tooth. He looks… angry. At you?

"Okay," you say slowly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he bites out. "Just drop it."

You exhale sharply, irritation flaring. "Spencer, we’re both exhausted. If something’s wrong, you can just—"

"Just leave it alone, Y/N."

His words are clipped, final. You stare at him for a moment, searching his face for an answer, but he won’t meet your gaze. The room suddenly feels suffocating.

Fine. If he wants to be an ass, let him.

"I’m going outside," you mutter, grabbing your jacket. "Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have figured out how to use your words like an adult."

You don’t wait for a response before stepping out into the cool night air.

The motel parking lot is nearly empty, save for the team's vehicles and a couple of semi-trucks parked along the far end. You breathe in the crisp air, letting it wash away some of the frustration bubbling inside you.

Spencer’s behavior isn’t just annoying—it stings. You thought the two of you were friends. Sure, he can be awkward and distant, but he’s never been outright cruel before. Whatever is bothering him, he clearly doesn’t want to share it with you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the cold seeps through your thin jacket. After a few minutes, your irritation starts to wane, replaced by exhaustion. You don’t have the energy to stay mad, and honestly, all you want is to collapse into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

With a sigh, you make your way back toward the room. The hallway is silent, the only sound your footsteps against the aging carpet. You reach for the door handle but freeze as a muffled noise seeps through the thin walls.

A low, breathy moan.

Your heart stutters.

You strain to listen, barely breathing as another quiet sound follows—one you recognize immediately.

A strangled gasp, unmistakably Spencer’s.

Heat rushes to your face as your brain supplies every possible explanation, each one more embarrassing than the last. You should walk away. You should turn around and pretend you never heard anything. But your hand stays frozen on the doorknob, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Another moan drifts through the door, this one louder. You swallow against the sudden lump in your throat.

"Fuck," Spencer gasps. "O-oh god— please."

His voice is low, rough. Desperate.

You grip the doorknob tighter, debating for what feels like an eternity. Should you walk away? Or—

You ease the door open, pressing your hand against it as if to stop yourself from charging forward. Spencer’s back is to you, his head thrown back as he works himself over, his hand moving in rapid strokes.

You can’t help it—you step further into the room, drinking in the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on the bed, shirtless and pale in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. His arm muscles are tense, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The blanket is thrown back, revealing his naked lower half: his long legs, his perfect hands—

His cock, thick and wet between his fingers.

You feel a rush of arousal at the sight, your blood pulsing hot. This is so wrong. So inappropriate. He’s your teammate, for god’s sake, and yet—

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to walk away.

Spencer's hips jerk upwards, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Y/N," he gasps again, his head falling back against the pillow. His eyelids flutter shut, his brows drawn together.

"Y/N, fuck, please—" His hand moves faster, stroking himself with a rough desperation that makes your breath hitch. You can’t look away as he thrusts against his grip, his hips writhing, his spine arched.

"Ah- fuck," he gasps, his body tensing, his fist tightening around himself. His mouth falls open, his eyes squeezing shut as he comes with a strangled moan.

You press your hand over your mouth, holding back a whimper of your own as you watch him.

Spencer sags against the mattress, his chest heaving. He's so fucking beautiful, and—

And you’re still standing here, watching him.

Your eyes dart to his face, and your stomach plummets as he turns his head.

He opens his eyes, and you meet his gaze across the room.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Then you both leap into action.

He scrambles upright, fumbling for the blanket to cover himself. You jump backward, tripping over the threshold and landing hard on your ass.

"Shit," you hiss, wincing at the pain that shoots up your tailbone. "Shit. I—fuck, I’m sorry. I should—"

"Y/N," Spencer says in a strangled voice. "I—I thought you were gone. I didn’t know you were—"

He trails off, looking anywhere but at you. You struggle to your feet, smoothing your clothes down self-consciously. This is awkward as hell.

"I thought you were asleep," you admit, wincing. "I didn’t mean to—"

Spencer draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He looks so fucking embarrassed, and you can't blame him.

You should say something. Apologize. You should put him at ease—

But the sight of him still has your pulse hammering.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down your racing thoughts. "I’m sorry, Spencer. I really am. I don’t mean—this is just—"

He raises his head, his eyes searching your face. "What were you doing, standing there?" he asks softly.

You swallow against the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you whisper. "It was wrong, what I did. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have watched you. I’m sorry."

Spencer lowers his gaze, his face still flushed. "What if I wanted you to?" he mumbles.

Your heart jumps. "What?"

"I wanted you to watch me," he says louder, his eyes darting up to meet yours. "I’ve been wanting you to for weeks, ever since you asked me to take over the case files."

"What?" you repeat stupidly.

Spencer shifts, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "I started—I started thinking about you. Fantasizing about you. You touching me, kissing me— everything."

Oh.

You stare at him, trying to process. "Reid," you say softly. "I—"

"Don’t apologize," he says quickly. "It’s not your fault, I just—I wanted you. So fucking bad. I thought that sleeping next to you would be—"

"What?" you prompt gently.

He exhales sharply. "That it would be uncomfortable," he says in a rough whisper. "That it would drive me crazy. That maybe you’d—maybe you’d feel it too."

His gaze flicks up to yours again, full of hope.

Your heart races. "Is that what you want?" you ask, stepping forward.

Spencer's breath hitches, his fingers tightening around his knees. "Yes," he rasps. "Oh fuck, yes. If you—Y/N, I’ll do anything you want. Just—just don’t leave me alone again. Please."

His words send a surge of pleasure through your veins. The sight of him, desperate and pleading, is almost too much to bear.

"Spencer," you whisper, taking another step forward. "Come here."

He scrambles to his feet, rushing toward you. You meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. He melts against you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck with a sigh.

"I can’t believe you saw that," he murmurs into your skin.

"I can’t believe I did either," you admit with a chuckle. "But I’m glad I did."

Spencer raises his head, his hazel eyes searching yours. "You are?"

You nod, smiling softly. "Yes."

His face flushes. "Do—do you want to watch me again?"

You smile wider. "Maybe later," you tease. "Right now, I think it’s my turn."

Spencer's eyes widen as you press him backwards, onto the bed. "I thought you were tired," he murmurs, his voice already thickening with arousal.

"I am," you agree, smiling. "But this is more important." You drop your jacket onto the floor, pulling off your shirt and jeans in quick motions. Spencer's eyes dart down to take in the sight of your naked body, and you flush at his hungry gaze.

He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow as you climb on top of him.

It takes a lot to shock Spencer Reid. But you're definitely up for the challenge. The look on his face is priceless as you take his cock in your mouth, not wasting any more time. His hips buck against the mattress, his hands threading into your hair.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Oh my god. Y/N."

He tangles his fingers in your hair, urging you on as you work him over. He's so responsive, moaning and gasping and whining—fuck, it's a beautiful sound.

You work him deeper, taking

Spencer moans loudly as you take him deeper, his thighs trembling. "Y/N, oh fuck, I—fuck—"

You press one hand against his hip, holding him steady as you swirl your tongue over the underside of his cock. Spencer bucks against your grip, his fingers tightening in your hair. He's still so sensitive from his previous release, but he's still getting harder—thicker—by the second.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, teasing the spot behind the head.

"Oh fuck," Spencer gasps, his voice broken. "Y/N, please—please don’t stop. I’m going to— ah."

You press your other hand against his stomach, feeling the muscles contract. His whole body is straining upwards, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

You take him all the way in, swallowing around his length as you work your lips over his shaft. Spencer comes with a cry, his hips jerking as he empties down your throat. You swallow every drop, holding his gaze as you slowly pull back.

"Touch," he rasps, his fingers searching for your own.

You swallow against the ache in your throat and smile up at him, lacing your fingers with his. "How are you feeling?" you ask, running your thumb over his hand, keeping your voice soft as to not disturb the air.

Spencer sighs, though not out of exhaustion, you assume he’s still taking everything in as you see his head rolling against the pillow. "It’s never felt like that before."

You grin. "Glad I could help."

He shifts, reaching for his discarded pants on the floor. "We should—we should clean up," he mumbles, his eyes darting to yours. He flushes when he sees your expression, and his face turns even redder as you realize what he’s doing.

"Reid," you laugh. "Are you really reaching for tissues right now?"

His ears turn bright red. "Well, what—what else am I supposed to do?"

You shift, straddling his hips as you lean down. "How about we do something else," you murmur. You kiss his jawline, working your way down his neck.

"Like what?" he asks in a breathy voice.

"Like this," you reply. You shift, taking his cock inside you. Spencer's breath hitches, and he groans at the feel of you surrounding him. You clasp his shoulders as you begin to move, his hands falling to your hips. He gasps with each thrust, his eyes falling shut as his head lolls back against the pillow.

"Y/N," he whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. “I don’t know if I can-."

You ride him harder, sliding up and down his cock. “Yes you can, baby. I know you can give me one more,” Spencer's hips rock upwards to meet you, his breath coming in broken gasps.

His fingers tighten around your hips, holding you close as he thrusts upwards.

You’re both panting and gasping now as you chase the peak. You're so close. So fucking close.

"Please—" Spencer groans. "Y/N. I'm—fuck, I'm coming."

You feel him spasm inside you, his fingers tightening almost painfully around your hips. You groan, your movements slowing as you ride him through his orgasm. Spencer's eyes are closed, his mouth open as he gasps for air. His body trembles beneath you, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as you reach yours, too.

You slump forward, catching yourself on his shoulders as you press your forehead against his. He opens his eyes and smiles at you, a warm expression that makes your chest ache.

"Hi," he murmurs softly.

"Hi Spencer." You smile back.

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the weight of each other’s bodies. Finally, you roll off him, stretching out next to him on the creaky motel bed.

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms as you smile. He nestles against you, his arm snaking around your waist as he presses his face against your chest.

You wrap your arm around him, whispering soft praise into his hair as you stroke his skin gently. He relaxes further, his body growing heavy with sleep.

The mattress is uncomfortable, the sheets too thin. But somehow, you feel more at ease than you have in weeks.

Spencer Reid is a brilliant man. But he’s also really fucking good at other things too. And you’re excited to find out what else he’s good at.

You smile to yourself, your chest warm with affection.

"Goodnight, Reid," you whisper into his hair.

He hums a soft reply, his breathing already slowing. You wrap your arm tighter around him, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off into sleep. Tomorrow, the case will continue, and so will your job. But right now, you have Spencer in your arms.

And that’s more than enough. You smile again, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you drift off to sleep. This room might not be perfect. But it’s home for the moment, and that’s all you need. You drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Spencer's heartbeat against your chest.

#missarchive #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid

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angstywaifu · 2 days ago

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Treating You Right - Aaric Graycastle

Summary: You and Aaric grew up together, but you never got along. But when you both end up as cadet's in the riders quadrant, he changes. His behaviour for all those years not entirely being how he wanted to treat you. A/N: I had so many requests for another Aaric fic so I kind of just compiled them all into one. So if you sent a request for Aaric, this is for you! Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Fingering. Unprotected Sex. Use of pet names (sweetheart). Rivals/enemies to lovers. Masterlist | Links

“You’re staring again.” Sloane teases, pulling me from my thoughts or lack there of.

Across the room, Aaric is in the middle of a challenge with another cadet from Third Wing. And as per usual he’s making it look easy. Barely breaking a sweat as he does it. Like he always has. I’m one of the few that knows who he actually is. Cam Tauri. The son of the King. A son I grew up around and never got along with well. He always acted so up himself. Living up to his title. But since being here, he’d changed. Or maybe he was putting on a front all those years.

“I am not.” I snap back as she laughs at me.

”You were. Like you always do. Starting to think you don’t hate him as much as you let on.” She teases again with a knowing smile.

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head. ”Trust me, I hate him.”

”Then why are you staring at him?” She states with a cocked brow. Gods she was too good at reading me. I’d only known her a few weeks and I felt like she knew me better than anyone.

”Figuring out the best way to take him out.” I point out.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’d believe you if it weren’t for the fact were on the same squad.”

”Maybe I’m waiting till we graduate to take my shot.” I fire back.

She wasn’t wrong though. I had been staring. And not for the reasons I was telling her. If it wasn’t for the fact we disliked each other, I’d be all over Aaric. And I hated that I wanted that. Hated how I’d started noticing him more since we had been here. And being in the same squad, there was no escaping him for the next three years if we both survived that long.

I’m grateful the library is rarely used by other cadets in this Quadrant. It was the one place I could find alone time with all us first years crammed into the same dorm. The one place I could let my guard down and relax. Or so I thought. The sound of the door opening pulls me from the book I’d been reading for Kaori’s class on the different dragons. Footsteps sound around the empty library as whoever it is makes their way further and further into the space. I prayed they were heading towards another spot in the library. But it seems luck was not on my side as the familiar face or Aaric rounds the corner of one of the shelves.

”Oh great, it’s you.” I say with an eye roll, turning my attention back to my book. “To what do I owe this pleasure.”

”Ouch. And here I was coming to you in peace.” He states as he walks over to me and sits down in the chair across the table from me.

”I didn’t say you could sit your highness.” I throw at him, watching as he stiffens at my words before relaxing again. We both know we’re alone, no one nearby to hear me.

”Well someone’s cranky.” He notes, leaning back in the chair as he clasps his hands and rests them in his lap.

I slam my book shut and look up at him. “And someone needs to shut up. I’m trying to study. So unless you need something, you can go.”

”I’m here to apologise.” He tells me as his green eyes pierce into me.

I cock my eyebrow at him. “You? Apologise? Didn’t think you were capable of that.”

He sighs heavily as he turns his head. “Well I am. I had to keep appearances up for my father. Treat certain people a certain way. But I don’t have to anymore. And I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I treated you before we got here. That I wish I could have treated you how I wanted to. Be your friend.”

I scoff and shake my head at him as he turns to look at me again. “Please, don’t pretend you give a shit about me.”

”I’m not pretending. Not anymore.” He tells me as he leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

I just stare at him, unsure how to take what he’s telling me. Part of my wants to grab my things and storm off, not believe a single word he says. But part of me wants to listen to him. Believe what he’s saying. Because part of me knows it’s true. He was never like his older brothers Alic and Halden. They were cruel and harsh, always bullying me. Something Aaric never did. He would say things to me, but nothing like his brothers. In his own way he was being kinder, but doing enough to not arouse suspicion. My family was nothing to his. My father might have been part of his father’s court, but we were nothing to him. And we’re treated as such.

I grab my book, shoving it into my pack before standing up. “Sorry Cam, but I’m going to need more than some apology to prove what you’re saying to me.” I go to walk past him, heading towards the door to take me back into the Quadrant, but he moves quickly, stepping into my path.

”What do you need then?” He asks me sternly as he looks down at me.

”Prove to me you actually didn’t want to treat me that way. Treat me like you actually want to be my friend or ask for whatever it is you want from me.” I tell him.

He furrows his brow. “Why would I want something from you?”

”Because I’m not sure why you have the sudden interest in being my friend after all these years if you don’t have some ulterior motive. Your family hasn’t given me a lot of reasons to want to trust you.” I point out, Aaric nodding his head slowly. “So prove this is not some ploy on your fathers behalf.”

Over the next few weeks Aaric does start to prove it. Not once does he treat me like he use to. Hell, we even manage to have pleasant conversations which come easier to me than I expect, which earns me a few curious looks from Sloane as she takes in mine and Aaric’s new found friendship, if that's what you could even call it. But it doesn’t last long when we’re thrown into chaos. Not even two weeks after we bond our dragons we’re thrown into being part of the rebellion. All of our squad ending up in Aretia with other fliers willing to defend Navarre from the real threat of Venin and Wyvern. And now we all had to rethink everything we’d ever been taught, meaning all of us we’re drained at the end of the day with adjusting to our new routine and relearning everything. Meaning our squad had barely had time to have some down time.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. Strange. We’d all gone to bed an hour ago, who the hell is knocking at my door at this hour? I chuck the pack I’d taken on our bonding exercise with the Fliers under my bed and walk over to the door. I pull it open, revealing Aaric whose hand is raised again to knock on my door. His bright green eyes locking onto mine immediately. I open my mouth to ask him what's wrong when he rushes forward, his hands grasping my face as he crushes his lips against mine.

I instantly melt into the kiss, hands grasping the front of his shirt as I pull him into my room as he kicks the door closed behind him. His kiss consumes me, my whole body wanting more of him, giving into the thoughts I’d had over the last few months. His hands leave my face, skimming down my body as they glide over the material of the silk night dress I’d changed into for sleep. His fingers play with the edge where it ends at the top of my thighs before grasping my thighs as he picks me up with ease before turning around. He sits on the edge of the bed, settling me in his lap as my legs settle either side of his.

I break the kiss, giggling as Aaric tries to chase my lips and growls in annoyance. He goes to object but stops when he sees me grasp the edge of the nightdress, his green eyes following my movements as I pull the material up my body, leaving me in just the matching panties as I sit in his lap. I turn my eyes back to him as I discard the material to the floor, my cheeks flushing as he just stares at me in awe. On reflex I go to cover myself up, but his hands reach out and grasp my wrists.

”Don’t.” He tells me, his voice rough and commanding. “Don’t ever cover yourself up.”

I just look at him and nod as I lower my arms, resting my hands on his shoulders as his hands caress my skin, leaving goose bumps where he’s been. I lower my hand to the edge of his shirt, Aaric leaning back to give me room to remove the material from him. I’d seen Aaric shirtless before thanks to challenges and various training sessions in the gym. But I can’t help but stare at the toned and defined muscles of his torso as I trace over them with my fingers, causing him to shiver at my touch.

My eyes meet his again, catching the slight smirk on his lips before he kisses me again. It starts off softer, slower. Almost as if he wants to savour the moment. But it doesn’t take long for it to build in intensity. A moan escaping my lips as his hands grips my hips and pull me down on him is his undoing. His fingers digging into my hip as he tilts his head and deepens this kiss as my hand rests against his neck, the other tangling in his hair. My hips rocking back and forth against his, causing his fingers to grip on to my hips tighter, to the point I’m sure they’re going to be bruised tomorrow. I yelp as he flips us over, my back hitting the bed as he looms over me before gripping the matching panties to my night dress and pulling them down my legs.

”Careful Prince, wouldn’t want someone to think you’re impatient.” I tease as he tosses them to the floor.

His eyes raise to mine as he smirks at me while pulling down the linen pants he wears before getting onto the bed, causing me to scramble back to make room for him as I lean back on my arms. He kneels between my legs, shoving them open as he settles between them.

”Trust me sweetheart, I’ve been patient.” He tells me as he looks down at me.

I open my mouth to reply, but a moan comes out instead as he glides his fingers between my legs before toying with my clit. Fucking hell.

”Seems I’m not the only one whose impatient tonight.” He teases as he continues to smirk at me.

My hands fits the sheets as he lowers his fingers and pushes them inside of me. “Fuck me.” I nearly moan out, throwing my head back as he thrusts them in and out.

”Oh, I plan to sweetheart.” He assures me, curling his fingers inside of me.

The room is filled with my moans and heavy breathing as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out, spreading them wider and wider as he goes. I whimper as he pulls them out, my body sagging at the loss of them. I yelp again as he flips me onto my stomach, grabbing my hips and pulling me into a kneeling position as he settles between them, his cock rubbing against me. I cry out when he thrust in, not wasting any time as he slides all the way in, the position I’m in causing him to hit the perfect spot immediately. I’d already been close from just his fingers. There was no way I was lasting long now he was inside me. I look over my shoulder at him as I push myself up on my hands, watching as he looks down at where he slides in and out of me. His green eyes flicker up and meet mine as he bites his bottom lip. Holy shit, that was more attractive than it should be.

”Doing such a good job sweetheart.” He tells me, praising me as he continues to slam into me. “Feel so good.”

”Aaric… please.” I moan out, lowering my head as my body starts to shake, rocking my hips back and forth to meet his thrusts.

”Please what sweetheart? Use your words.” He tells me, his hands gripping my hips as I start to go limp.

”I’m c-close.” I stutter out as my arms give out, my head and upper body resting against the bed.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire, feels like it’s about to combust as I teeter on the edge. Aaric reaches around, his fingers finding my clit and applying pressure. I cry out as my body starts to shake as I tumble over the edge, Aaric drawing out my pleasure as he continues to thrust in and out while using his hand. A few moments later Aaric’s hips still as he falls forward, bracing himself above me as his hands land either side of my head. Both of us gasping for air as we come down from our high.

”You have your own room, right?” Aaric asks after a few moments.

”Y-yes.” I mutter out, doing my best to nod incase he doesn’t hear me.

”Good.”

I feel Aaric move, the bed dipping to my left before his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his side. My body instantly relaxing at his touch. I barely register him placing the blanket over us before falling asleep with my head against his chest.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #aaric fourth wing #aaric graycastle x reader #aaric x reader #fourth wing smut #onyx storm #iron flame

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pinkyqily · 16 hours ago

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ONLY YOURS - JUJU WATKINS X READER

Summary: Because of recent speculation, online, it makes you rethink your relationship with juju.

Warning: cursing, angst to fluff, reader bluffing, miscommunication from r

Author's note: this fic was requested by @atditsitzjt and I hope you enjoy reading this, we love Otto in this house, I just needed someone who juju is close to build up fic tension.

feedbacks are always welcome and happy readings readers 💐

To be honest, you had no reason to think that juju would cheat on you.

But overthinking is a bitch and that how you and juju found yourself in this messy position in you're relationship.

It all started with when you saw a comment about how juju is always with Otto and doesn't she have a girlfriend to go to.

That comment didn't bother you at all until the sudden change of your algorithm.

You started seeing post of people shipping them together, pictures that looked way too intimate.

how they are always together from practice to hanging outside of campus together.

You felt like your heart got twisted and toyed with. You waited until she would come over to your place to try and bring it up, not wanting to jump into conclusion yet wanting to give her the benefit of doubt.

Juju came around, and she could tell something was wrong, but she didn't want to push your buttons after the long day she had.

You both enjoyed each other company, but the sense of lingering tension was obviously in the air and if anyone was to enter the room they would most likely feel suffocated.

You were laying on your girlfriend as she scrolled through her phone on Instagram.

But you couldn't keep quite anymore and got off her, she looked at you a confused.

you cleared your throat to speak.

"So you and Otto hang out with each other a lot." You started with.

"Yeah, she's my best friend, you know that." She said.

"You guys are really close for best friend".

"What point are you trying to make?". She said, looking irritated.

"I'm gonna be straight with you, Juju are you cheatin-. Before you could finish you heard her cut you off. "Don't you finish that sentence, what made you come to this." The way she reacted caught you off guard.

"Oh, I'm sorry that my supposed girlfriend loves hanging out with her best friend more than her actual gf, that it has the internet speculating if you guys are dating".

"You have to be serious, you're getting your claims from delusional people on the internet?". She said looking really hurt by the not so accusation you put against her.

"Yeah because they make more sense than whatever your fucking saying juju".

"What can't you understand she's my best friend just because we're always together, means nothing to me." You heard her say, she tired grabbing your hands but you simply moved back creating more space between the two of you.

"But it does to me do you ever think about how I would feel huh, you don't see me always hanging out with my best friend like that". You told her getting upset that she couldn't understand your point of view.

"One she's been with me since day one, she works with the team too, so of course we're always gonna be at the same place two just because we're always together means nothing to me". She explained to you. Grabbing both your hands as she continued speaking

"You're my girlfriend, not her, the person I love and adore you make me feel all sorts of things when we're together."

You felt a little shakend, she was someone who was always straight foward but doesn't to pushy with it. You had nothing to say to her they only thing you could do was leave the living room.

where you both we're staying so you could get some air.

You felt like a huge asshole for doubting her. What type of partner accuses there significant other, onto of that you use the internet as some type of excuses just because of your insecurities instead of communicating with her.

Oh you felt bad, after what felt likes hours but was only a few minutes you went back inside after staying outside. Juju was just how you left her, she was sitting on the arm of the couch fidgeting with her fingers.

You stood in front of her, but there was still the lack of distance between two of you.

You started by saying

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have accused you like that I don't know what wrong with me everything people were saying just got to me". You told her.

"I'm not gonna lie, your accusations hurt me, especially when you know I would never do you like that." She said, pulling you closer as she laid her head on your shoulder.

After your conversation with her that night, you expected her not to stay over like she normally does but she did.

You're both laying down in bed you couldn't fall asleep yet.

"Baby, I just wanted you to know I'm really sorry, and I feel so stupid thinking about it." You said, thinking she fell asleep.

"It okay, just go back to bed mhm". You heard her say as she pulled you closer by your waist.

"Goodnight, I love you." You said to her as you slowly able to fall asleep and be at peace without your mind playing tricks on you.

"I love you too." She said her arms stil wrapped around your body.

#juju watkins #juju watkins x reader #juju watkins imagine #wbb #usc women’s basketball #usc wbb x reader #wbb x reader #wbb fic #wcbb x reader #wcbb fanfics #wbb imagine #ncaa wbb #usc trojans #usc wbb #wbb oneshot #wbb fanfiction #wbb fluff #juju watkins fanfics

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cherrycheolkat · 2 days ago

Note

heyyyyy kat, this bingo card game is so fun!! im always looking forward to your next post. please can i request something from it too? i would like vehicle sex and oral fixation pretty please 🥺

hihiii ofc you can ^^ also that's sweet - i'm glad you like my fics <3 um i am maybe a little stuck on mingyu x noona but hope this is fun and sorry it took a few days for me to figure this one out

♡ kat

bingo square: vehicle sex + oral fixation

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader | mingyu x noona reader

summary: y/n was heading back to her apartment when mingyu offered her a ride - she didn’t realize her least focused student could actually be fully engrossed with a single activity

genre: college au, collegestudent!mingyu, teachassistant!reader

word count: 1.8k

rating: 18+, mdni

warnings: explicit language, smut, age gap, car sex, topping from bottom, penetrative sex, finger sucking, nipple play

she had packed up after another class where maybe a quarter of the students actually paid attention to her - just because she was the ta, which was annoying. she was the one who graded all of their horrendous papers. and then there was maybe her most annoying student, kim mingyu - she rolled ideas, just thinking about him.

when she walked around the class for the last few weeks, she had noticed that he was literally watching march madness coverage and completely ignoring her lectures. she had gotten annoyed this evening and used her laser pointer on his screen. and just because that didn’t seem to phase him, she had called him out. she grinned as she replayed it in her mind - his half-stuttering bullshit answer that she meticously corrected. she had seen the way he stared daggers at her the rest of the session. but she didn’t care, as long as maybe paid attention - that was the point.

she walked through the quiet halls and could finally breathe when she exited the building, feeling the cool night air - she caught the sharp scent of ozone, and knew it was going to rain. she groaned, realizing she hadn’t brought her umbrella. she made it just outside of the building when she felt the first few ominous drops. she sighed and pulled the collar of her jacket up closer - she would get soaked, but it could be worse.

she didn’t initially notice the black car next to her. she was concerned with getting home, not some person who was lost on campus.

“y/n?”

she paused, glancing over to the car. the driver had rolled down the window closest to her - she leaned down and tried to control her face as she saw none other than kim mingyu leaning towards the open window, looking at her with a smirk. she rolled her eyes, “come to my office hours if you have an issue, mingyu,” she kept walking.

but he stayed next to her, “you know it’s starting to rain, right?”

“and?”

“do you want a ride?” his voice was too sweet for her liking, especially since she had pointedly embarrassed him maybe 45 minutes before.

she shook her head, “no, thanks - have a nice night,” she tried to sound cordial and nothing more.

“come on, y/n, it’s not a big deal - even if you called me out in class,” he almost whispered the last part.

she tried to smile, “i shouldn’t take rides from students,” she mumbled.

he grinned, “you’re not the professor, y/n, even if you basically do his job for him.”

she could feel rain drops hitting her more persistently - she groaned, “okay, fuck, fine.” she got into his ridiculously nice car and immediately wondered if he were a trust fund kid.

“so where am i taking you?” he asked softly.

she didn’t love the idea of him knowing where she lived, but she gave him her address - well close to her address - it was her friend’s place a few houses down from her own. if anyone egged her friend’s house, she would have a top suspect, she thought wryly.

she leaned on the arm rest, trying to make it clear that she didn’t want to spend anymore time in his car than was necessary. the problem was when she felt his hand brush her thigh, and she practically jumped.

“sorry,” he mumbled. she might have believed him if he hadn’t looked so smug about it.

she pursed her lips, “you know, if you bothered to pay attention in class, i wouldn’t have called on you - so if you’re annoyed about something”—

he cut her off, “why would i be annoyed? i wanted your attention, and i got it,” he smiled.

she flushed, not knowing what to say.

“you could just say you aren’t interested - i’m in your class, blah, blah, blah,” he offered, his voice low and silky.

she stared out the window not wanting to think about that he was a student - a junior student to her, but just another student for all intents and purposes. like he had said, she wasn’t the professor.

when he touched her thigh again, she barely noticed until he squeezed her thigh while they waited at a stop light.

she glanced at him, “so what do you want? what do you think is happening right now exactly?”

he glanced at her for a moment, “i’m thinking how much i want to know if you’re wearing a bra today or not.” he said it so smoothly - she looked at him, taking in his profile as he watched the road. she wasn’t unaware of the way some students looked at her. she hadn’t pegged him as one of ‘those’ students.

she felt his hand slide closer to her groin. she should probably stop him, but in all fairness, she liked how his hand looked on her thigh. she liked that he had thicker fingers - she liked that he had the hands of a man - there was nothing dainty about his fingers. she wondered how they would feel stretching her pussy.

when they got to her friend’s address, she sighed, “it’s actually further down,” she pointed.

he laughed softly, “ah - so you were going to hide in the bushes?”

she rolled her eyes, “no, it’s my friend’s place, and i have a spare key,” she responded tartly - as though she would hunker down in the bushes.

he was already pulling into her driveway. it was darker than her friend’s - there was more tree cover from heavy oaks on both sides.

she didn’t touch the door handle. she was patient, wondering what little fantasy was playing in his mind.

when he shifted in his seat, “come here,” he whispered.

she glanced over, seeing the room between him and the steering wheel. it felt distinctly high school. but she wasn’t above that. she shifted to straddle him. he was fast to shove her jacket out of the way, and even faster to shover her thin sweater up to expose her tits to the cooler air of the car.

she wasn’t prepared for the way he moaned at seeing her, “fuck,” he muttered, “look at you, baby,” he whispered.

his hands slid over her breasts roughly, squeezing them while he moaned softly.

“so now you know - no bra,” she whispered, leaning down so her lips were just next to his ear. She leaned back, letting him have the view he wanted so badly.

he nodded, swallowing hard, as his fingers traced over her nipples - she knew why his eyes suddenly flashed to hers.

“serioulsy,” he whispered before he was suddenly leaning into her and sucking softly at her breast.

she knew what he had felt, the little tiny piercings she had - she could feel his tongue playing with the tiny metal barbell - she moaned softly, her fingers pulling his short hair softly, loving how warm his mouth was. she moaned when he sucked harder, his tongue alternating between making little circles around her nipple and playing with her piercing.

it felt like ages before he pulled away from her left breast, groaning, “how the fuck are you single?” he breathed.

she laughed, “it’s not like they’re not magic.”

he shook his head, leaning in to kiss her right breast, “yes, they are,” he whispered against her skin, licking and sucking the nipple he had been neglecting. she felt him pull her hips closer to his. she gulped when she felt how hard he was.

she bit her lip softly when she felt the rough way he was sucking at her skin - she knew he would leave marks. she had the feeling that that was exactly his goal. she found herself pushing him back, pressing her fingers between his lips instead. she blushed watching the way he sucked on her fingers - it was when she made him gag and he didn’t seem to care that she knew she was too far down the path not to fuck him.

he whimpered when she pulled her fingers away, “want to fuck, baby boy, not just tease each other,” she breathed as leaned over him, her fingers tracing along his cheek. he stared at her, already looking dazed.

she rolled her hips against him - he moaned softly. she smiled, “do you even want to move?”

he swallowed, “why? i like this view,” he murmured.

“you just want someone else to do the work for you,” she didn’t care that her voice had sharpened.

he shook his head, “promise i can fuck you from exactly where i am.”

she grinned, “mhmm, i’m sure.”

she wasn’t sure how either really managed to get out of their pants, but she knew she was slick enough to take his cock without prepping. and the slide was absolutely worth it - she arched back against the steering wheel, moaning, not sure that she had ever been stretched so well as she was in that single moment.

she heard him, “such a good girl, taking all of me like that,” he whispered, kissing her throat.

and then he shifted her just right so he could fuck up into her. his cock hit every spot she needed him to, and the way he held her hips so tightly - she knew there would be bruises the next day. she let her hands slide under his shirt, feeling his toned stomach, and the way his muscles flexed as he moved his hips. her head lolled to the side - he really was good. so good. she knew she left thin, angry scratch marks across his stomach - she knew he was pulling moan after moan from her

but it was when he came that she yelped softly, she was already stretched completely and now he was fucking her full of his cum and stroking her clit. apparently, he wouldn’t be satisfied until she came too.

she quivered from the attention, whining softly, saying his name over and over, and then her orgasm hit her - washing over her like a wave - her eyelids fluttered closed as she felt her body reacting to his. she was shaking, leaning into him, knowing she had come undone for him.

she felt his hands tracing over her skin, like he was keeping her from floating away. when he tipped her chin back to kiss her, it was surprising to her - how gentle he was.

it was maybe less surprising that she woke up late the next morning with him in her bed - their limbs tangled after they had spent half the night fucking like animals.

when she tried to get up, he only pulled her back, “stay with me,” he whispered. he was much more beguiling than she wanted to admit, but she still stayed, happily wrapped in his arms.

a/n: again, trying to force myself to write a drabble and not go over 1k words skssksksss so 1.8k is perf right?? T-T

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo ask the newest bingo is [here] but there are still open squares from the previous two [here] and nsfw only bingo is [here]

tag list: @syluslittlecrow ☁︎ @gyuguys ☁︎ @haik-chu ☁︎ @tinyelfperson ☁︎ @lovetaroandtaemin ☁︎ @starlit-rin ☁︎ @gigglensnort ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite ☁︎

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here] & this is my [master list] if you want to read more

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moriwood · 1 day ago

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Flower Puff Boy — p.js

park jongseong x male reader fluff with very lil angst 2.3k words

Over the past year, people have come to know you as the guy who always gives flowers. You’ve used every occasion as an excuse to purchase flowers from Jay, your neighborhood florist, and each time you walked in, you always ended up with a free flower from him. As Valentine’s Day nears, you realize what flowers truly mean to him and you.

includes: flower language! (might be wrong, i’m not good with flowers myself); a call back to my other xo era-inspired fic (pls read it too if u haven’t yet :’3) warning: n/a

You were never well-versed in the language of flowers. No special fascination, no favorite blooms nor scents growing up. But over the past year, you have come to be known as the guy who gives flowers. For friends who started new jobs, relatives who celebrated their birthdays, and even your coworker who merely complained about the blandness of her beige desk, flowers had become your go-to gift.

You first stepped into Flower Puffs on a whim, a small shop tucked into a side road with little traffic. Despite its humble appearance, its color always stood out against the dull low-rise apartments beside it. The chalkboard outside boasted seasonal arrangements and flower meanings scribbled in neat, cursive letters. It started simple: a gift for your mother on Mother’s Day.

—

Behind the counter, a young man arranges a bouquet. His sleeves were rolled up, and the veins along his arms were like vines growing on a trellis. He glances up at the sound of the bell jingling above the door. His eyes lock onto yours, lips stretching into a smile as charming as the flowers that surrounded him.

“Hey there. Mother’s Day?”

You hesitate by the entrance. His directness catches you off guard, though it makes sense—most of his clients for the day were probably here for the same reason.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Good call,” he replies, his smile reaching to his eyes. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps around the counter. “Something classic or something unique?”

You shift on your feet, glancing at the rows of flowers neatly arranged on wooden displays. “Uh… I don’t really know flowers.”

He chuckles softly, approaching the nearest display to you. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

He hums as he gestures at his different floral arrangements, voice filled to the brim with enthusiasm. It’s quite captivating—the way he spoke about flowers—detailing their scientific properties, from colors to scents, then unraveling the messages they somehow conveyed without words.

He picks up some delicate stems, their green, fuzzy leaves adorned with tiny yellow flowers that spiral upward along its length. Oddly, they remind you of the herbs you use to season food. “Agrimonias mean gratitude and protection. Old legends say that if you sleep with agrimonias under your pillow, they ward off evil.”

He then picks up another few bright yellow flowers, bigger than but as slender as the agrimonias. “These hawksbeards here mean something similar—protection and contentment.”

“And some Peruvian lilies,” he says, picking up some flowers in a darker shade of yellow, with lines of purple decorating its petals. “They mean a lot of things: wealth, fortune, and devotion. If it’s for your mom, you probably want the most for her, right?”

You nod. There’s a strange intimacy in the interaction, listening to someone speak about something they’re clearly passionate about in such a quiet environment. You reach out to take the bouquet he’s begun assembling, and for a split second, your fingers brush.

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker to your face in amusement then he steps back with a grin. He plucks a white flower from one of the nearby displays and twirls it between his fingers.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “A calla lily. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“What does it mean?”

“Magnificent beauty,” he replies smoothly, “like you.”

You freeze, caught between surprise and amusement. The confidence in his delivery makes you think that this is a regular schtick he does with his customers; however, for a beat too long, you consider if he could be as genuine as the flowers that he sells.

A laugh bubbles up in your throat as you notice the board on the counter that reads Flower Puffs in colorful chalk.

“Well, thank you… Flower Puff Boy,” you finally reply.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” he cackles, slapping a hand over his eyes. “But Jay would probably be better,” he corrects. “And you?”

—

It all began there, and you kept on coming back. Every occasion has become a perfect time to come visit Jay’s shop.

And each time, he gives you a flower. Even on days where you decide not to purchase anything and just pass the time at his shop, you always leave with a single flower in your hand. You keep them all, pressed in between pages of your books, tucked into vases by your windowsill, like tokens of each visit. In your mind, you’ve authored a tiny dictionary of all their meanings.

Wood sorrels for joy, when a childhood friend came to visit you in the city.

Mayflowers for perseverance, when your boss just recovered from a major surgery.

Lemon geraniums for unexpected meetings, when you welcomed a new guy in the workplace.

Then he gave you a lily of the valley for the return of happiness, because he hadn’t expected you to come back so soon.

Then milkvetches, because, as he put it, your presence softened his pains—something he didn’t explain further.

Then French marigolds for jealousy, after you mentioned to him how attractive the new guy at work was.

He didn’t seem to lie about what his flowers meant, yet you never took the time to question if the flowers really meant anything to him—to you. After all, he’s just a merchant, and you’re just a customer. Assuming otherwise would be foolish, especially when, after nearly a year of frequenting his shop, you knew nothing much other than his name and his line of work.

What do you do outside the shop? What else do you like other than flowers?

Were those even questions you could ask?

And yet, you still return. Not exactly for him, but for the giddy feeling you get when you learn something new about a flower—or so you tell yourself.

The bell rings as you step inside, and as always, the familiar florist stands behind the counter, carefully arranging a bouquet. He’s leaning over the counter, speaking with a customer—a guy around your age, donning an oversized sweater and smiling brightly. Jay notices you, glancing at you, but his attention is swiftly drawn back to the man he was talking to.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the shop is too small not to overhear everything. Turning to the wooden displays, you pretend to browse through the flowers, testing yourself on the meanings you’ve learned.

“With a love letter and everything,” the guy says.

Jay chuckles. “Sounds… romantic… Who’s the lucky guy?”

Mustards. Greenish-yellow, as in the plant with the seeds that are used to make the condiment with the same name. It meant indifference, Jay said, when you wanted to buy something for a leaving coworker who you really didn’t care about.

“No idea. The flowers had me thinking they got it from you.”

Jay hums. “Sunoo got one. Then I think Heeseung?”

Cobaeas. Large, bell-shaped, and violet. Gossip, like you tuning in more to their conversation. Who are these people that they’re mentioning?

“Heeseung?” the guy repeats.

“Said he’s getting ‘em to cheer someone up. Maybe it’s him?”

The guy laughs. “I don’t think he swings my way. If it’s Sunoo or Heeseung, then this person probably bought it elsewhere.”

Goldenrods. So small, Jay just uses them to fill up his flower arrangements. He said they could mean precaution, but for what exactly?

“I hope you find out soon, or maybe not. Then I’ll make you a better bouquet. No secret messages though, just a delicate arrangement of flowers from your favorite florist.”

French marigolds. Jealousy. Huh.

You turn back to the couple by the counter, finding the guy chuckling and shaking his head. “I’ll take that offer when the mystery turns exhausting. But I’m pretty invested right now.”

Jay smiles at him, all easygoing and warm as usual. “Let me know how it turns out then.”

The guy waves goodbye, taking one last look at the bouquet in his hands before heading out. Jay then exhales, fingers tapping against the wood. He notices you again, now with his full attention, and grins.

“What’re you doing over there? Come tell me your excuse for visiting today. Don’t tell me it’s Lunar New Year.”

You force a chuckle, stepping closer. “Birthday of a friend. Was just testing if I remember the botanical stuff you’ve taught me.”

Jay tilts his head. He points to some oxeye daisies, petals white with a yellow center. “What do those mean?”

“Patience. Purity. The he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not flower.”

“Correct,” he replies, picking one and twirling it between his fingers. “Is this friend you’re talking about a friend-friend or…”

“Or?”

“Friends with ulterior motives,” Jay laughs. “Friends from a different dimension.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “No. A real, very existing friend.”

Jay studies you for a moment, an embarrassing warmth creeping into your face. You might make every occasion an excuse to visit Jay, but you won’t stoop so low as to invent stories about imaginary people.

“You have to stop giving out flowers on a whim like that, your friend might misinterpret,” he says.

You hesitate briefly, then you roll your eyes in realization. “I could say the same thing about you giving free flowers to all your customers.”

Jay furrows his brows. “I don’t?”

“Huh?”

A beat passes.

“I don’t give free flowers to all my customers,” Jay repeats.

“Just me then?”

If not all customers, then maybe just the ones who buy a lot. That makes sense. Definitely not just you, don’t be delusional.

“Just you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

The guy from earlier left with his bouquet and nothing else. Another beat passes. Then Jay claps his hands together.

“So! A birthday bouquet. Got flowers in mind or you want my floral magic again?”

You blankly nod, mind still reeling from what Jay has just told you. “You do your magic, I’ll watch.”

Jay begins to work, slow as he selects the first few flowers, then fingers moving more efficiently as the flower arrangement grows into something more colorful and “meaningful.” You shift your weight from foot to foot as you watch him, letting the faint snip of scissors and rustling of wrapping paper fill in the silence.

After a moment, you find yourself asking: “Do you really believe in it?”

Jay glances up, pausing from cutting a length of pink ribbon. “In what?”

“Flowers and their meanings,” you clarify.

“Well, they mean something if you want them to,” he replies, before resuming what he was doing with the ribbon, gently tying it around the bouquet. “I mean,” Jay hesitates. “Flowers are just like any other gift or gesture. They only matter as much as you let them.”

He pushes the finished bouquet towards you, giving you a warm smile. “Or maybe you just like giving beautiful people something beautiful, and that’s as valid as any other reason,” he adds. “I’ve never been good with words anyway, so I’d appreciate flowers even if they really meant nothing other than pretty, colorful things.”

You nod, smiling back in understanding. Then the words tumble out before you can think too hard about them, a joke too sincere, a humorous statement that’s been stripped of its humor. Because you’re just that good with words unlike this Flower Puff Boy.

“Would it be fraternization with the enemy if I brought you flowers for Valentine’s?”

Jay stills, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he catches on. “I guess I’ll give you white catchflies then. Betrayal!”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, prodding at the bouquet on the counter. “Have to check out the competition.”

Jay gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “After all the free flowers!?”

Your lips twitch. “Wasn’t exactly a fan of such a manipulative business tactic,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue in mock offence. “Guess I’ll have to stop the freebies then.”

The playful banter comes easily, but your heart stutters, thumping in your chest and wavering your voice in the process. For almost a year, you thought that Jay’s easy charm was just part of customer service. Maybe it was, but now, it definitely doesn’t feel like it.

“Valentine’s, huh?” Jay grins. “Receiving flowers on that day instead of selling them would be a change.”

You glance at the long-forgotten bouquet for your friend, your fingers idly brushing over the brown paper wrapped around the flowers.

“Actually,” you start, voice a little quieter, “could you make another bouquet for me? To pick up on a different day? Forgot something.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? What occasion?”

You smile, keeping it light. “Secret.”

Jay playfully narrows his eyes. “Am I gonna be jealous of another ‘friend’ of yours?”

“Should you?” you laugh, making Jay grumble in fake frustration. “I’ve got specific flowers in mind.”

“Okay, tell me what flowers you want,” he sighs. “I’ll prepare them by the date you need them.”

White chrysanthemums. Moss rosebuds. Peach blossoms. And lastly, yellow jonquils.

“Do you know what these flowers mean?” Jay slowly asks, as if he’s still processing the list of flowers you just gave him.

You nod, heat once again rushing to your face. “Do you?”

Jay shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We might have different dictionaries. Spell it out for me, please?”

You take a moment, the words spilling as if it came from a script, though your voice shakes. “I’m not lying when I say that this is a confession. You have captivated me and I desire a return of this affection.”

“That’s quite a specific message,” Jay replies, exhaling. “Who’s it for then?”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of what this scene means. “You.”

Jay shakes his head, but you see the fondness in his expression. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters. “When will you be picking it up?”

“On Valentine’s, of course.”

He laughs. “I’m a florist. Wait for my reply in flowers by then.”

A sense of ease washes over you. “I’ll see you by then, Flower Puff Boy.”

Jay watches you with a smile as you turn toward the door, the familiar chime ringing once again.

For the first time, you leave the shop with no free flower to take home. And for the first time, you’re comfortable admitting that it wasn’t just the flowers that you were always looking forward to.

author's note: it’s over 2 weeks too late for valentine’s but hey i made it! would y’all believe me if i said i broke my arm a few months ago and it stalled everything for a while 😭 i hav a lot of drafts ongoing so let’s hope i don’t disappear for another few months ADF:gpzicvbpzpvo sorry for always slacking y'allllls

references: Flower language taken from the 1867 book “The illustrated language of flowers” by Mrs. L. Burke: https://archive.org/details/illustratedlang00burka

— moriwood.

#enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop fanfiction #enhypen x reader #park jongseong x male reader #fluff #park jongseong x reader #mori fics #jay x male reader #jay x reader

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macapunoz · 1 day ago

Text

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets.

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that.

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months.

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination.

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week.

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now.

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered.

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?!

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol.

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away.

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers.

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love.

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart.

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos.

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store.

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket.

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun.

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it.

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name.

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda.

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

#[ macaworkz ]#k-films #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #scoups x reader #scoups x you #seventeen x you #svt x you #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen angst #svt angst #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol

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ikkyfics · 20 hours ago

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hi!!! im sorry i dont request often, but ive been so in love with ur fics... my atj obsession is coming back full force and you write dave soooo well <33

maybe a fic where reader isn't exactly popular (pretty and maybe has a few close friends) and has a big crush on dave? like she can't understand how he's 'invisible to girls', cause she stares at him in whatever classes they both have, and she stands at her locker for forever just staring longingly at him and he never notices. maybe her best friend tries to convince her to talk to him eventually ..

was thinking it could be sfw and maybe fluffy (maybe a little angsty if you want) idk!!! thank you for considering it if you do, and im excited for what other work you have lined up ❤️

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: in which Dave doesn't notice any of your signals

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, idiots in love, no use of y/n

A/N: SO SO SO SORRY, I know it's been forever since you sent this request, but I only just got around to doing something. I kind of lost count of how many times I started and deleted this fic. If you read this, I appreciate you not giving up on me, and thank you so much for the message, it was very very kind and I can only thank you for those sweet words. I hope you can enjoy this, darling (and I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request)

You always looked at him.

Sometimes subtly, when he walked down the school hallway with that casual stride, balancing his backpack on one shoulder, his headphones hanging around his neck, his brown curls falling slightly over his forehead. Other times, you didn’t even try to hide it, like when he laughed at something stupid during lunch and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses, or when you saw him from afar during gym class, not understanding how no one else noticed how good he looked in that blue shirt.

It was a mystery to you. How was it possible that no girl at school looked at Dave Lizewski? How was it possible that no one saw what you saw?

"You should just tell him you like him and get it over with," your friend casually remarked, while you checked your phone for the thousandth time, waiting for Dave’s reply.

You pretended not to hear, but the heat on your face gave you away.

That was it. You liked him. More than you should like a friend you only exchanged messages with and talked to when you bumped into each other in the hallways. More than you should like someone who, probably, didn’t see any of it.

So, when Dave suggested you two go to the movies together to watch a Batman re-release, you tried not to overthink it.

But that became impossible when you found yourself standing in front of the mirror for too long, adjusting your top, letting your hair down and tying it up three times before deciding which way looked the least intentional. Your hands were a little sweaty, and you rolled your eyes at yourself when you realized you had chosen that specific perfume, the one that always made someone comment on how good you smelled.

It was just Dave.

Just Dave, who got adorably awkward when you accidentally complimented him. Just Dave, who laughed at your bad jokes and sent stupid memes in the middle of the night. Just Dave, who—when he met you in front of the theater—stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, blinked a few times, and without even trying to hide it, gave you that quick once-over from head to toe before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

"You look… uh, different today."

You raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Different how?"

Dave opened and closed his mouth once, clearly trying to choose his words. His curls fell slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head to the side, and he made that unconscious motion of pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Pretty."

It was a bit hesitant, but genuine enough to make the heat rise to your cheeks.

"I’m always pretty," you joked, trying to keep your composure.

Dave smiled that awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know."

And then, as if realizing he was giving too much away, he pointed toward the theater doors. "We should go in."

He was right. But as you passed through the ticket booth and grabbed your tickets, you could still feel his gaze on you from time to time.

The theater was packed, and the tight seats meant you were close enough that when he moved, his knee brushed against yours.

The room darkened, and soon the movie started. You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy when every little movement of his caught your attention. The way he leaned over to grab more popcorn and, in the process, his fingers brushed against yours, his warm skin against yours in a fleeting touch that left an uncomfortable awareness in its wake. As if, somehow, that brief contact was more significant than it should have been.

He didn’t seem to notice. He just stayed there, leaning on the armrest, relaxed, his eyes lit up by the glow of the screen. Every now and then, he’d bite his lower lip without realizing it, an unconscious habit of concentration that made something twist in your stomach. His jaw looked more defined like that, and you felt an annoying urge to look longer than you should.

And then he leaned in.

You felt it before you saw it. The movement beside you, the sudden warmth of his presence getting closer, and then his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered:

"Did you know Christian Bale almost lost the role because they thought he was too skinny?"

It sent an immediate shiver down your spine.

Maybe it was the fact that his voice came out lower than necessary, raspy on purpose or by accident. Or maybe it was because he was close, close in a way that didn’t seem normal for two friends watching a movie. His face was almost touching yours, and your mind made a stupid connection, the kind that should’ve been ignored: if you turned your head just a little, if you leaned an inch in the wrong direction, his lips would touch yours.

You swallowed hard.

"Is that true?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, and he chuckled softly, as if he noticed.

"He gained like 100 pounds of muscle in six months."

"Is that even possible?" You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the screen, as if ignoring the proximity would be enough to not feel every detail of it.

"If you’re Batman, it is."

The reply came in an almost playful whisper, and then he pulled back as if nothing had happened, leaning back into his seat.

Unlike you, who stayed there, absorbing the fact that your heart was beating way too fast for something that was supposedly nothing.

But it wasn’t just that.

His fingers were still close to yours on the armrest between the seats, so close that if either of you moved, the touches would repeat. You noticed when he grabbed more popcorn and his knuckles brushed lightly against your skin. Maybe you were imagining things, but he didn’t seem in such a hurry to move his hand away this time.

The movie went on, and by this point, you couldn’t tell if you were following the story or just the small details about him. The way he shifted in his seat, the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling with his breath, the warmth radiating from him so close to you.

His voice came low, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Did your soda run out?"

You blinked, needing a second to process the question, before realizing that yes, the cup of soda next to you was empty.

"Yeah."

"Then have some of mine. You must be thirsty after all that popcorn."

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been. But when he tilted the cup toward you, you hesitated for a moment. Your eyes met his, and Dave smiled slightly, waiting for you to take the cup.

So you took it.

You brought the straw to your mouth and drank, feeling the cold soda running down your throat. But that wasn’t all you felt. Dave was watching. Not just casually. He didn’t look away the next second, didn’t glance at the screen as if nothing had happened. He was watching.

When you lowered the cup and handed it back to him, your fingers touched for a moment. Warm, slightly sticky from the popcorn salt, but still soft. Dave blinked a few times, as if processing something, and then drank from the same straw without a second thought.

The rest of the movie went on like that. Little moments that made it seem like you were something more. You whispered that you wanted to try the chocolate he bought, and he offered it, holding the candy near your mouth almost casually. Later, he made a comment about some scene, and you replied softly, leaning your face closer to his than necessary. It was all a silent game that neither of you seemed willing to admit you were playing.

But then the movie ended.

You needed to go to the bathroom, and Dave murmured that he’d wait outside. You nodded, adjusted your jacket, and walked away, trying to ignore the silly feeling that you were leaving something behind.

It was when you came back that you felt something strange.

There he was, standing near the theater exit, and right in front of him was a girl. You didn’t know her, but you recognized that smile. A sugary smile, a deliberate lean of her body toward him. She laughed softly, playing with her hair, saying something that made Dave furrow his brows, confused. And then you understood.

She was flirting with him.

And he had no idea.

Your body froze mid-step. It was stupid, but for a moment, you felt a strange weight in your chest. What would happen if, suddenly, someone started seeing in him what you saw? If someone looked at him and saw exactly what you saw? If someone fell for Dave Lizewski the way you were falling for him?

Your stomach churned.

That’s when he looked at you.

His face lit up in the same second, and he smiled—that genuine, easy smile he didn’t give to the girl in front of him. He muttered something quickly to her, nothing rude, just a hurried goodbye, and then started walking toward you.

And you, who still felt the heaviness in your chest, didn’t know what to do when he stopped beside you and asked, as if nothing had happened:

"Let's go?”

You could still feel the warmth of the movie theater on your skin, the memory of your fingers brushing against the popcorn, the brief touch of your hands, the low sound of his voice, raspy and almost lazy, echoing in your ear. It was absurd how every detail seemed amplified now, as if the simple fact of being alone on this walk made everything feel more real.

Dave adjusted the collar of his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, and took two quick steps to align himself beside you. He always did that—making sure you walked together, close, your shoulders almost touching with every movement. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and just let out a short sigh.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t get the image of the girl at the theater out of your mind. Or the way she looked at him, or the casual way Dave stood there, listening, completely unaware.

"She was pretty."

The words came out suddenly, and Dave turned his head toward you, slightly confused. "What?"

"The girl at the theater." You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on the path. "She was pretty."

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out where you were going with this. Then he shrugged. "Yeah."

It was a small, indifferent sound. But for some reason, it annoyed you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, and looked at him. "And she was flirting with you."

Dave furrowed his brows, laughing lightly, as if that were absurd. "No, she wasn’t."

"Yes, she was."

"No, she wasn’t."

You stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop too, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden hesitation. The cold wind passed between you, but all you felt was the heat rising to your face.

"You’re too much of an idiot to notice."

His smile faltered a little, and Dave opened his mouth, as if to retort, but couldn’t find the words.

"I’m not an idiot." He sounded slightly offended, furrowing his brows in a way that only made him seem more naive.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"Then tell me," you challenged, tilting your head to the side, crossing your arms as you stared at him. "If a girl were flirting with you, would you notice?"

Dave let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head. "Obviously."

"No, you wouldn’t."

"I would."

"You wouldn’t."

He rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated way. "Okay, then. How are you so sure about that?"

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t think much. You just looked at him, at his messy curls and blue eyes behind his glasses, at the face you knew so well and at the answer that had been begging to come out for a long time.

"Because I’ve been giving you every possible sign, and you haven’t noticed."

The silence that followed your confession wasn’t empty.

It was heavy, loaded with something indescribable, something that tightened your chest and made the air feel denser around you.

Dave stood in front of you, his face partially lit by the nearest streetlight, his hair casting shadows over his eyes. But even with the poor lighting, you could see it.

The shock.

His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze fixed on yours, unblinking, and the expression that took over his face was a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage, the pulse vibrating in every extremity of your body. Your hands were cold, but the heat rising to your face was almost unbearable.

You had said it.

You had said it out loud.

And now there was no turning back.

Nervousness washed over you like a wave, sweeping away any trace of courage that remained. Your chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and your fingers moved slightly, restless, before you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"I like you, Dave."

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but it was too late to fix it.

Dave blinked, as if the words had just hit him with full force.

"I’ve liked you for a while. A long time." You forced a short laugh, looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. "But you never noticed."

He wet his lips, looking away, at anything that wasn’t you, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed again, without a single word coming out.

"Dave," you called, and he finally looked at you again.

His eyes were intense now, as if they were trying to absorb every detail of you, every tiny movement.

You felt the hesitation in the air.

The weight of what had just happened.

But then, he did something unexpected.

With an almost hesitant movement, Dave slowly raised his hand, as if testing his own limits, as if he still couldn’t believe he could touch you. His fingers brushed against the sleeve of your jacket before finally holding your forearm, the touch light, uncertain, but real.

"I’m an idiot."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, and the way he said it made your chest tighten in a strange way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued:

"I—" Dave took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I didn’t notice because..." He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm. "Because I never thought it was possible."

Your heart stopped for a second.

His eyes were locked on yours, and there was something so genuine there, something so true, that you felt your throat close up.

"I never thought you could like me."

The confession was soft, said with a half-smile that didn’t match the uncertainty shining in his eyes.

And in that moment, you realized.

You realized he wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t feel the same.

He was hesitating because he had always felt it.

Because he had always wanted it, but never thought he was allowed to want it.

You felt your breathing quicken, and the distance between you seemed smaller now, your bodies leaning in an almost imperceptible way, as if drawn to each other.

Dave blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to understand the reality of the situation. As if he were trying to memorize this moment, to store it somewhere safe inside himself.

And then, he laughed.

Soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and shook his head. "I really am an idiot."

You let out a weak laugh, the nervousness still pulsing inside you, but now mixed with something else.

Something warm.

Something good.

Dave lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip before looking at you again, and then he did it again—that subtle movement of leaning closer. Not enough to break the last barrier between you, but enough for you to feel his warmth in the air, for every cell in your body to be aware of his presence.

"Tell me it’s not too late for me to notice now."

His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense, blue and fixed on you as if nothing else in the world existed.

And the answer came before you could even think.

"Of course it’s not."

#dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski fanfiction #reader insert #no use of y/n #fluff #idiots in love #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #romance #aaron taylor johnson #atj #atj x reader #kick ass #kick ass x you #kick ass x reader #dave lizewski

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wlwsoccerfics · 2 days ago

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Navigating Motherhood(GiuliaGwinnXMiedemaReader)

A/N: Hope you enjoy this cute little fic. Short but sweet.

Summary: you and your wife navigating life as Professional Football players and First time moms.

It has been two months since you and your wife Giulia became mothers. You have given birth to a beautiful Baby Girl named Florence 'Flo' Violet Gwinn-Miedema. You played for FC Bayern Munich, just like Giulia did.

Today was the first day you would get back into Training with the Team and of course the Girls had asked if you two could bring Baby Gwinn-Miedema with you. They wanted to see their little niece again.

Of course you agreed. You were quite happy to bring her along for the ride. In a few weeks you would take on Arsenal in the Champions League. Arsenal also happened to be the Club your Sister in law Beth played at. So you were excited to see her. Even though you wouldn't be playing in that game. Your sister Viv had just left after coming to munich for a few days to meet her Baby Niece and so you could see your nephew Gideon again. Your sister and your Sister-in-law had him two years ago. Viv gave birth to him.

It was a good thing you could always asked Beth and Viv for advice when it came to raising Florence. Cause your daughter and your nephew were close enough in age.

"Babe?" You hear your wife say. She was walking into the bathroom with Flo in her arms.

"yes liefje?" You asked.

"are you ready to go?" she wanted to know.

"i am! Just had to get my contacts in!" You informed Giulia.

When you were about to leave the house Flo started crying. You frowned softly. Knowing that she probably was hungry.

"someone is hungry!" You stated and gently took her from Giulia. Sitting down on the Couch with her.

"i will Text the group Chat that we will be a bit late to practice." Giulia said, kissing your head and then your daughters.

You gently stroked her tiny fingers while she was nursing.

"you are making mommies be late to work! Good thing you are so adorable so i will let it slide!" You told her with a soft smile on your face. Giulia laughed at your little joke.

"she really is the cutest." Giulia admitted.

"our daughter can't even talk yet, and still has us wrapped around her little fingers already!" You replied with a laugh escaping your lips.

After Flo finished nursing and got burped you changed her diaper before the three of you finally left for practice. Giulia was driving.

"are you okay, Love?" She asked you cause she could tell that you started to get nervous again.

"i am just nervous. It's the first time in almost a year that i will be Training with the Team again! And not do light Training!" You explained to her.

"you gonna do just fine Babe!" Giulia told you. "You already are Superwoman for staying active while growing a tiny human! Which by the way you didn't have to do. Cause carrying a Baby is work enough, but you still decided to have your own workout plan!" She added on. You appreciated how proud she was of you.

"thanks for saying that. also liefje, we need to work on our time management because you know i hate being late. Even when the reason why is our really adorable Baby Girl!" You told her.

You reached the FC Bayern Campus around 30 minutes after practice started. So you quickly got dressed and went out to the pitch. Giulia was carrying Florence in her Baby carrier. Needless to say that practice was on hold when you arrived cause everyone wanted to hold your daughter. You apologized for being late again and for crashing practice but no one seemed to mind.

"she is such a doll!" Lea told you. Looking at her with a smile while Tuva was holding her.

"thanks Lea, took 9 months to Cook her to perfection!" You said jokingly. All of your anxiety gone now. It felt good to be back and not just visiting.

You enjoyed practice. It was an amazing feeling. Only having two take a longer break to nurse Flo again. Other then that everything was just fine. You enjoyed every single Minute of practice.

When it was time to leave, Flo was asleep in her Baby carrier and Giulia was carrying her back to the Car. This time you were the one driving Home.

"how are you feeling?" Giulia wanted to know.

"honestly? Great but i think we have so much to learn and figure out. Making sure we are amazing parents cause this Is what our daughter deserves. And being great at our Job! Cause that's what our Team deserves." You said. "How are you feeling?" You wanted to know.

"good, i agree with you though! We have alot to learn and figure out, but we have eachother and so many people that can help is with it! We got this! Figuring out how to put our daughter and our in Order!" She answered. Good thing you really weren't alone and had a few people to always ask for help. and the two of you had eachother.

#woso x reader #woso request #woso fic #giulia gwinn x miedema reader #viv miedemaxmiedemareader #Viv MiedemaXBethMeasXmiedema Reader #fcbayernmunichxreader

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sitkowski · 21 hours ago

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punish || part one

one || i want to know what it feels like

pairing: incubus!jolly x f!reader cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ (for this chapter) allusions to mind manipulations, murder, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation. word count: 1.8k author's notes: okay and we're off! this one is gonna be a wild ride and it's my first multi chaptered fic in a while. chapter title comes from "onanist" by ethel cain, divider by @saradika-graphics.

⇉ masterpost || punish masterpost || playlist || taglist signups

There is a very attractive boy at the bar with silver hair that keeps looking Jolly’s way. He’s been sitting in a booth in the back for hours now, people watching. He’s selective about his meals, not about their gender. He can look at a person and see how well they will feed him, how they will taste. Some will last him a week, others mere hours. It’s been hundreds of years, more than he cares to recount now, but he still feels that rush of picking out the perfect meal, seeing the desperation in their eyes as they offer him everything they have.

Incubus. Sleep demon. Devil. Nightmare. He’s heard them all and he’s embraced what he is. He hasn’t felt remorse about the things that he has done to survive in a very long time. Lack of humanity, lack of conscience, call it what you will. He likes to think of it as surviving. If that means picking off a few club kids here and there to satiate his appetite for this evening, then so be it. It’s all food to him; emotions, sexual energy, the act itself. He isn’t fond of taking people against their will very often, and there are plenty of willing people who just need a little nudge in the right direction.

As he passes through the crowd to reach the bar, he siphons a little bit of sexual energy as he goes; a touch here, a glance there. The place is crowded, and so many bodies pressed together leave Jolly feeling high almost. Humans are very predictable and Jolly is a little vain, if he’s being honest with himself. He uses the fact that he is attractive to his advantage, like now as he approaches the bar and leans against it, giving that silver haired boy his most charming smile.

A little nudge.

It’s easy enough to lead him outside to his demise. The mouth of the alley behind the bar is dark and Jolly backs him into a corner, lowering his mouth just inches from his. He wonders what he looks like to this boy, if he can see through the human glamour he’s come to consider his skin. Jolly reaches up, dragging his fingers over his cheek, watching them lengthen against his pale flesh.

“You’re a fine meal indeed,” he whispers, and the boy’s mouth curves into a smile.

“Thank you.”

“No,” Jolly’s voice grows deeper and he presses one of those nails into the boy’s neck. Blood wells around the wound and he pulls it back to lick it away from his fingers. He tastes like iron and ripe fruit. “Thank you.”

The boy trembles in his arms as the poison takes hold, and Jolly honestly loves this part. Watching the life force, the soul and the tastiest part of a human, be exhaled like smoke that he leans in to take into himself as if he were shotgunning a cigarette. He takes it greedily and the boy doesn’t struggle. The poison doesn’t allow it, something Jolly’s always been a little grateful for. Not because he doesn’t like to inflict pain but because it makes it easier to get away with leaving the poor boy’s body in the alley to be found at a later time.

His hands twitch as he steps back to make sure that he left the boy hidden as well as looking somewhat comfortable. If it weren’t for the blood soaking into his pale blue shirt, the poor soul would just look as if he were sleeping. He’s fed one hunger but there’s always another waiting for him. Sometimes he combines the two, and sometimes he’ll only pick someone up to either be a meal, or to warm a spot in his bed for a while and they get to leave with their lives in the morning.

Jolly makes his way back into the bar, looking for a meal of another kind.

It seems like the most cliche thing in the world; your friends have abandoned you at the bar, and you find yourself having a conversation with a guy that leads to more drinks and more conversation and sitting close to one another like you’re in the middle of a meet cute romcom movie. But the two of you have been talking for over an hour, and maybe you’re imagining the connection you feel. A spark, or whatever. The way he makes you feel as if you’re the only person at this bar.

You don’t question bringing him home with you.

At least you remembered to get his first name. Joakim—call me Jolly, everyone does—is a perfect gentleman on the short walk from the bar to your tiny apartment. He drapes his leather jacket over your shoulders and he walks closer to the street, keeping his hand on your lower back the whole way. Maybe you should feel nervous, bringing a gorgeous stranger back to your place. You did tell your friends you weren’t leaving alone, but that was the most you did.

There's a brief moment where you think you've made a mistake, but then Jolly's touching you, hands warm as they brush against the skin beneath your top while he backs you up against your apartment door to kiss you. You immediately feel breathless with want and you bring your arms up around his shoulders, rising up on your tiptoes as he pulls you hard against his body. Only the sound of his jacket hitting the floor with a slap draws you away, and you shakily pick it up and shove it into his hands before you dig through your purse, sighing as he presses himself against your back.

You can feel him hard against you through the fabric of your skirt and you manage to get the door unlocked, reaching back to fist a hand in his shirt and yank him inside. Immediately he's on you again, fingers sliding into your hair to cup the back of your neck and push you into the nearest wall. Your hands clutch his face, and you can feel how hot his skin is, he's almost burning up. You’ve never felt this needy for someone before, and maybe you should be more concerned.

He grasps your chin, pushing your head back to lick a line under your jaw and drag his teeth over your pulse point. Your panties are instantly soaked just from a little bit of kissing, and you let your head fall back against the wall as he clenches his fingers harder in the hair at the nape of your neck.

When Jolly lifts his head to look into your eyes, your breath hitches in your chest. He looks inhuman, eyes nearly black and his hair hanging in his face. The corner of his mouth tilts upward and he steps back swiftly, so fast you almost slide down the wall.

“Why don’t you show me where your bedroom is, beautiful?”

His words pull at something low in your stomach and you nod, trying to step away from the wall. Before you can make it very far, he’s pulling you back, and kissing you breathless again. You fall into his chest, whimpering and trying to pull him down the short hallway at the same time. At first, he’s unmovable, but he eventually relents and you lead him into your bedroom. He doesn’t bother to look around at anything. It doesn’t really bother you. Not when his hands slide beneath your sweater and he tugs it over your head, throwing it aside. He lowers the cups of your bra, stroking your nipples leisurely with his thumb while he wets his bottom lip with his tongue. Your eyes track the movement greedily, unable to voice how much you want him. The idea of speaking right now is entirely lost on you. Finally, you reach behind yourself to undo the hooks, pulling the fabric away and dropping it by your feet

Jolly sinks down to his knees in front of you, and you watch raptly as he reaches up beneath your skirt to pull your underwear down your thighs. They get caught around your boots and he helps you out of them, clenching the fabric in his fist for a moment before he brings it up to his face and presses his nose into the balled up lace. Your skin flushes at the sight and he looks up at you before he tosses them onto your growing pile of clothes.

"Do you know what I want to do to you? I want to worship every inch of your skin, I want to make you scream. I want to eat you alive."

You nod, and he keeps staring at you until you realize that he wants you to actually give him permission to touch you further. “Yes, please.”

His fingers trail up and down your thighs, each pass lighting your skin on fire. You realize that he’s not looking at your face, he’s watching as your wetness is starting to run down your inner thigh. It doesn’t really register how turned on you actually are, until he stands up fluidly and tells you to get out of the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t take off his own, and this should strike you as odd, but it doesn’t.

The second he buries his face between your thighs, you come, sudden and sharp. Jolly doesn't stop, licking you through it. Your hands come down to grasp the back of his head, twisting into the strands and tugging hard. He growls against your cunt and you feel the vibrations of it, your entire body trembling in pleasure as your thighs tighten helplessly around his head. He's already dragging you towards your second orgasm, tongue flicking over your clit before he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard. Your back arches off the bed and you choke out a sobbing moan as he brings you over the edge again.

Your eyes widen as Jolly begins to lick at you again, and you want to tell him to stop, that it's too much, but your words die in your throat. You're practically riding his face as you come a third time, grabbing a pillow to pull over your face to muffle your screams so your neighbors don't hear.

When he finally lets you breathe, your hips are still twitching and tears are in your eyes. His mouth trails softly up your stomach, over the side of your breast and he plucks the pillow from your hands. His face is wet with your arousal and he looks smug. You finally find the sense to reach between your bodies to get to the front of his pants, but he grabs your wrist.

“This was just for you,” he assures you, voice coming out rough. “And maybe it gives me an excuse to see you again.”

It sounds so reasonable, even though you had thought this was going to be nothing more than a one night stand. When you walk him to the door a short time later, he says he’s going to call you but you don’t get your hopes up.

You’re probably never going to see him again.

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae @rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses @thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow

@malice-ov-mercy @itsjustforce @darksigns-exe @baddestomens @collidewiththesavannah @sorrowsofsilence @fadingangelwisp @wonh0z @xxrainstorm @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kait16xo

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

#fic: punish #jolly karlsson x f!reader #incubus!jolly #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens smut #jolly karlsson fic #.ficbysitkowski

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synnamon-hearts · 2 days ago

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This is a bit out of left field. How is the fandom feeling for incubus! Josh ? 👁️

He still looks the same from the canon game, his form depends on your imagination once he comes at night to feast! I'll send in more details if I'm not tired. Love your worksss weewooo

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Oh. My. GOD. Literally s-creaming right now because I used to write incubus fics in another fandom a long time ago and it was like one of, if not my most favorite trope, and I wanted to start doing it with Josh too but I wasn't sure how people would feel about it. Well, thanks to this request, my question was answered.

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Incubus!Josh always appears at night when you are sleeping, just towering over the foot of your bed, watching you for a few minutes like a predator studies his prey to access the situation. Once he's got you somewhat figured out, he will wake you. Some days it can be by gently rubbing your thighs, or biting your neck hard. It really depends on his mood but he always has that same mischievous smirk when your eyes finally open.

I think his eyes are fairly emotionless, though like his smile, also hold something slightly dangerous and mischievous in them as a small warning sign that he has something planned.

Now Incubus!Josh's real face is hidden due to a collection of energies he puts around himself as almost a mask. They only allow you to see what you want to see. (See what I did there?) So every time you see him, he appears as what version of Josh you desire the most.

His voice is a bit more low and almost raspy as well, almost like if Josh smoked at least 4 more cigarettes a day than usual. He always greets you sweetly when you awaken to him.

"Hey, sweet little thing. Did I frighten you?"

Then chuckling, he would reach out and caress your cheek while fondly looking over your features. "Don't be frightened, little thing. I don't plan to harm you. I just need to feed. And my my, aren't you a delicious little late night meal?"

One part of you will feel frightened. I mean it's a natural instinct when you wake up to this mysterious man in your room who is talking about eating you. But most of that fear is driven out by something else: desire.

Incubus!Josh has a special aura that he can release into the air, it's to make people feel more safe around him. He doesn't want to hurt them. His main goal is to make them feel good so he can feed off of the erotic and arousing energies they produce while he does so. And this aura he puts off lowers their fear instincts by subconsciously letting them know this.

Now Incubus!Josh is really special because he can read minds as well as the subconscious thoughts that linger in the shadows of one's mind that they may not even know they have themselves. This allows him to seek out people's true desires.

He may attempt to get this information while you are sleeping, or when you are awake. If being awake is the case, for some, all it takes is some common foreplay of kisses and gentle caresses to get those juicy thoughts flowing.

Or for the more close-minded people, he may have to put a spell on you to put you in a temporary trance-like state to get you to open your thoughts to him.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Incubus!Josh will always figure you out one way or another. And when he does, prepare of a full night of the most fun you have ever had. Whatever you both do, Josh is in absolute ecstasy. He moans so loudly whenever you cum, but not because he feels the same level of pleasure you feel. Because it's feeding him and making him stronger.

This fuels his need to continue and make you cum as many times as possible. I'm talking he gets so determined that he growls like a rabid beast as he fucks you. He will make you cum so many times until you literally pass out from exhaustion. He does this for two reasons:

1. He wants to milk you dry of all the sexual energies he can.

2. It makes it easier to disappear afterwards.

After you pass out, Incubus!Josh comes to a full stop. He may be a demon, but he respects that you are to a point of needing rest now. He will caress your hair and clean you up, even tuck you into bed afterwards.

When you wake up, you feel exhausted still. You will probably have to call in sick from work. Though you physically show signs of a rough night, your mind will simply play everything off as a dream. If that is due to the extreme exhaustion or something Incubus!Josh does to keep himself as just a mere fantasy in the minds of humans as a safety precaution is unknown.

For the first few hours of the day, Incubus!Josh will watch you from the darkest shadow in your room, thoughts that will never get spoken going through his mind as he studies you. Ah humans, what curious little creatures. Perhaps he will stick around to see what else makes this one tick?

#until dawn #until dawn josh #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington smut #incubus!josh washington #synnysrequests #synnysheadcanons

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fic-writer-confessions · 1 day ago

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I've always disliked x reader fic--not, like, hate, but you know the attitude. The "y/n" jokes, thinking of them as sort of cringey, being annoyed by them in the fandom tags... and so on and so forth.

But on the other hand, I've been writing fanfic for 15 years now. I know that my work is good--and that's not a confidence thing, it's just that creative writing is my literal full-time job, and has been for years.

I've written for so many different fandoms, both large and small, in so many capacities: fluff fics, angst fics, long multi-chapter fics, one shots, NSFW, ye olde "holy grail" fics (M or E rated one-shots spanning about 15k with the lowercase lyrics titles), slash, femslash, straight pairings, gen fics, you name it.

Without fail, over the past five years or so, the amount of engagement I get is just... disappointing, most of the time. I appreciate every comment I get, and I have made genuine friendships and relationships with people who appreciated my work. I'm also writing for myself more than anyone else. But it's still disheartening when a fic I've spent weeks working on gets maybe 3 comments. I know it's just the new fandom etiquette not to comment, but still.

But a few weeks ago, I was scrolling through a fandom tag and saw someone wishing there were more x reader fics for a particular character--and they way they worded it was just so genuine I immediately wanted to write something for them, so I figured "what the hell" and cranked something fairly low-effort out pretty quickly.

I have never received feedback on a fic like this. This was a small blog for a small-to-midsized fandom, but the ratio of hits to comments and kudos was insane. I even had several people personally reach out to me on tumblr to thank me for the fic or ask if there was ever any possibility of me writing more x reader fic. And I did some research into other x reader fics for my other fandoms--same thing, much higher ratio of engagement.

I'm still not going to read or write much more of it myself (I'm aromantic), but damn. I get why there is so much x reader fic now--these fans engage. If they like something, they don't hesitate to say it, and if they're not sure the message has gotten across, they track you down on other platforms to make sure you know just how much they like what you do. It is so incredibly refreshing. Having only just dipped my toes in, the amount of respect I have for this community has skyrocketed. And with the research I have started doing into x reader fics--there is so much more here on a genre-convention level than I ever knew.

Not saying every fanfic writer needs to become an x reader fic author, but like... first, my god, the jokes really aren't that funny anymore when you compare them to the reality of the community. (I haven't even seen many fics use the "y/n" thing for example.) But secondly, if you're feeling discouraged about writing... just give it a shot. It doesn't have to be that long, you don't have to completely change your style for it. But give it a chance, and get a little more appreciation for your fellow fans in the process.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #reader #confessions #writing #fic writer confessions #writeblr #ao3 writer #fanfic confession

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randomfoggytiger · 2 days ago

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Hello again, “Mourning the Lost” anon here. Thank you so much for the recs, I was struggling to find fics set directly after the end of This is Not Happening but before Mulder is exhumed; I’m working my way through the list! I noticed your reply to my ask had “Part 1/3” in the title, should I be expecting parts 2 and 3 sometime soon? 👀

Collector's Edition: Season 8, Mourning the Lost (Part 2/3)

My, oh my, how the vacay time flies~.

Yes indeedy, there are a lengthy three parts to your fic request-- because I, for one, can't figure out how to do things by half measure.

Loose chronological order below~

@alsoablankslate/tabulaxrasa‘s (LJ, tripod) Trepidatious

She dressed all in black almost unconsciously. She isn't a widow, she reproached herself. He isn't dead. But she cannot bear anything brighter.

They looked at her like she is a widow. She doesn't want them to look at all.

Within Scully remembers how rich Mulder made her life.

baronessblixen’s

A dream, a nightmare (Ao3)

It’s not a conscious decision to grip the shirt, to lie down in his bed, her head against his pillow. This is my side of the bed, Scully, she thinks, seeing him grin at her. She doesn’t need to close her eyes to dream of him. It’s faint, but the shirt still smells like him. Involuntary memory, the mental image of Mulder says to her, walking around in her mind, in her last memory of him.

Within Scully remembers the night before Mulder left.

Missing You

There was nothing she could do. No matter if there was music, or the whirring of the computer, or Doggett making conversation. The fact remained that there was no Mulder. No mid-day jokes to make her giggle. No humming of random songs that would get stuck in her head, too. No sunflower seeds cracking. She misses that noise the most.

Pre-TINH Scully is bereft in her partner's absence.

Not Today (Ao3)

Mulder used to keep a few mugs on the lower shelf just for her, knowing she couldn’t reach up high. The first time, so early in their partnership, he laughed when she tried her best, on her tiptoes, her blouse riding up. He handed her a mug, promised he’d think of something. He did; he kept his promise.

But that was years ago.

Post TINH Scully refuses to finish moving out of Mulder’s apartment.

SusanProto’s Dealing with Disappointment

I wake up each morning and wonder if this will be the day a clue falls into my lap or a piece of information finds its way onto my desk.

I go to bed each night disappointed.

Post Without Skinner observes Scully boldly pressing onward.

@mytardisisparked's (Ao3) Shirts (Ao3)

Her skin crawls to think of what people might say, not because she’s ashamed in any way, but because she knows that no one will ever understand the depth of her relationship with Mulder; no one can grasp exactly what he meant to her and what she meant to him. They will think of tawdry nights out on the road or locked doors in their downstairs office, rather than the encompassing love and comfort and friendship that lay between them. The rumors will make their relationship sound cheap and dirty when it was anything but.

And then there are the people who will romanticize it, who will imagine her grief and try to sympathize when they have no real idea of how large the gaping hole in her heart is.

Post Without-Three Words Scully wears Mulder's shirts.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls’s one in five billion - Chapter 2: “You can’t die. Please don’t die.”

“Mulder,” she says, choked on tears. “Mulder. Mulder.” He is unresponsive, which is strange because he always has something to say. She rocks him slightly. She has never held him, not like this, not when she wanted to.

TINH Scully begs Mulder back to life.

pinebluffvariant’s Dresser (prompt #3)

She’d taken great care in selecting his outfit, down to the details: she had carefully searched his surprisingly sturdy thrift store dresser and folded his best dress socks, underwear, and tie into a silk pouch. You shouldn’t get silk wet, so she didn’t cry. She held her breath the whole time.

Post TINH ISTJ flies with Mulder’s body.

@seek-its-opposite's all the old familiar places (Ao3)

She thinks that grief is an X-File, and wouldn’t Mulder find that fitting. She and Mulder (she and Mulder, she and Mulder) once chased a monster that presented itself as its victims’ worst fears. Grief is that monster without the bare-faced cunning, the obvious motive, the wink at the camera. Grief is that monster in the shadows: a dark kaleidoscopic thing that changes as soon as it’s recognized. It hit her as a whispered “agent” and Skinner’s hand on her shoulder and her feet leaving the floor. It was the vague, throbbing sense that she should fight her way out of Doggett’s arms. It was blades of grass slicing the lifelines on her palms. Wild eyes, denial, a pounding head, everything muffled and blurred and not enough air. The next day, it was forgetting that she’d called her mother already.

After that it was as slick and as tangible as the shirt that she hugged in her sleep.

Post TINH Mulder’s legacy lives on through Scully, her family, Doggett, and the files.

@sigritandtheelves's This Last Moment

She holds his hand.

Skinner finds her this way, hours later, expression vacant, still touching him. She is a beautiful thing made of glass that has broken.

“You can’t,” he says, but she only stares at him. “You can’t stay. We need to bring him home,” he insists.

At this her mask trembles. Home. Bring him home. That’s all she wanted to do. She won’t let go when Skinner touches her shoulder. “I just need this one moment. This last one.”

But when she says the word last, something cracks.

Post TINH Scully (and Three Words Scully) works through the grief of Mulder’s loss (and his distanced resurgence.)

spookycc's Together, Broken

Fox Mulder. The nameplate stares me in the face, and I pick it up, almost reverently, just as I suspect Agent Scully does. He is the reason she goes on, in the face of all the obstacles we've encountered in our search.

TINH Doggett feels like he's failed Scully.

@starwalker42's (Ao3) febuwhump day 3: immortality

As she stands over his grave, watching the dirt fall from her fingers, all she can think is that he must be out there, somewhere, waiting patiently for her. That seems like something Mulder would do.

Post TINH Scully is afraid she'll won't be able to join Mulder on the other side.

@nachosncheezies's The Bet (Ao3)

She had been wearing his sweatshirt - her sweatshirt - to sleep whenever the weather and the tiny furnace in her belly would allow it.

AU-- Mulder and Scully married in the Pilot... which complicates her grief after TINH.

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts's Pray the Light

She calls in sick the day after the funeral. She does not apply for bereavement leave; she cannot bear the thought of filling out the form. She’s filled it out before, for her father, for Missy; there is a blank space that says relationship to deceased and there is nothing, nothing she could write in that space.

So she calls in sick and she drives to his apartment to feed the fish, and then she takes off her shoes and curls herself into a ball on his couch. After some indeterminate amount of time - ten minutes, half a day - she gets up and goes home. And the next day, and the next.

It’s a routine and a relief. The drive to Alexandria is the only prayer that doesn’t taste like ash in her mouth.

Post TINH Scully and Skinner are coping silently.

@scullyphile's (Ao3) missed calls

The worst time of day was between one and four a.m., when she lay awake missing him, especially once she realized she couldn’t sleep because she was hoping he would call.

Post TINH Scully clings to phone, hoping INTP will call.

@cecilysass/cecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's Opposition And Synthesis

Is it the nature of all things to be paired?, Scully wondered.

Post TINH Scully can't fill the hole Mulder's absence has created.

@i-gaze-at-scully/i_gaze_at_scully's Peaches to lovers

Oh Scully, he murmurs. Don’t cry. She touches her finger to her cheek, surprised at the rivulet she finds making its way to her lips. The salt reminds her of sunflower seeds and she can hear the crack, see him smile around the shell.

Post TINH Scully avoids the memories in her apartment.

Euphrosyne's Starlight

She has taken to seeing Mulder again.

It upset her less than it should; less than it would Skinner, or Doggett, or even Frohike, if she chose to tell them.

Post TINH Scully sits alone in her apartment with her secrets.

@cuminspice's Without You (Ao3)

She lightly touched the top of the headstone, and then traced her fingers across the raised granite letters. M-U-L-D-E-R.

“Mulder it’s me,” Scully said quietly.

Post TINH Scully talks to Mulder's headstone.

@agentwhalesong/sadandangstyagent's (Ao3) Could It Be Any Harder?

“I wish you had been there to see it,” she completes after a few seconds of silence.

Her smile slowly fades as she comes to the conclusion that the answer isn’t coming. She knows that there is no way that he will get out of that grave and suddenly say, “wow, Scully, you’ve really changed since the last time I saw you.”

Post TINH Scully visits Mulder's grave.

TLynn's (LJ, XF Fanfic) Writhing Towards An Unforeseen Divination

Dana Scully was never one to believe in fate or destiny. She refused to accept that her path was already set out for her, whether it be by some unknown and unseen force or her own parents, and she was proud of the direction she had taken herself in the time she had been on this planet. But at the same time, she clung to the belief that everything happened for a reason. There was a reason she went into medicine, there was a reason she met Jack and Daniel, and there was a reason she pursued a career with The Bureau. There was a reason she was partnered with Mulder, there was a reason she believed his stories, and there was a reason she fell in love with him.

But there was nothing to convince her there was a reason for his death.

Post TINH Scully's baby remains her only anchor.

bellefleur’s Easter Vigil

In this land of miracles, the barren conceive, and the dead live again. Resurrection is possible. Perhaps it is even to be expected. She isn't sure, since she no longer understands the rules.

All she knows for sure is that he was dead. She held his lifeless body. She touched his decaying flesh. She stood watch as they sealed him in the casket and then lowered him into the ground.

He was dead. And then he wasn't.

He is risen.

Deadalive Scully thinks of her waxing, waning faith in miracles.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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