#watching him without him realizing it sometimes

[slvttyplum]

nanami loves you in a sundress, something flowy that highlights every dip and curve on your body and the way it slightly rises up whenever you’re walking or sitting down.

he was never too picky with what you wore, but if he could have his whole closet filled with cute sundresses just for you to wear every day of the week, he would.

this man found every excuse in the book to have you put one on, from picnic dates to regular dates to taking a nice walk on a beach; he didn’t care. one thing he was going to do was convince you to wear one.

“look at this one, honey; it goes well with your complexion; just wear this.���

slowly easing you into wearing the dress, which you always ended up doing because they were so cute, and then the look he had on his face when you finally slipped into it; there was no way you could say no.

the fact that he loved the way you looked in the dress and how you looked like a goddess wearing one, he got stiff from you wearing them, one of the “cons.”

pushing you to wear one just for him to be hard the entire time, palming himself down as he stared at you.

sometimes he couldn’t wait, no matter how hard he tried.

yeah, you looked gorgeous like always, but he would wait for hours, torturing himself as he watched your every move you made in that dress.

he even started touching you without realizing it, putting his hand on your thigh and rambling on about random stuff to distract himself, then slowly sliding his hand up your dress and in between your thighs.

leaning in closer so his voice was down to a whisper, telling you to follow him to the nearest bathroom.

nanami tried to wait until the two of you got home. well, that was when you first started wearing them out, but then he just couldn’t keep the day going in good conscience knowing he was going to die if he didn’t fuck you.

“come with me; i want to make you feel good.”

okay, maybe just maybe he purposely made you wear sundresses because it turned him on. what’s the harm in that? it turned into some great sex then and later.

bending you over the bathroom sink and slowly sliding up your dress, making sure to savor the view and how you looked from the back before sliding your panties to the side.

yeah, this was the consequence of wearing these damn dresses, and no, no, there were no complaints, just inconvenience when nanami didn't want to stop.

"okay, let's go to the car then." this man was desperate as hell because your entrées didn't even come out yet.

the point is, i just know this man loves a good sundress and will bend and fold you over in one.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTALKERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How it's like having him as your stalker?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You never noticed him at first.

Which was strange, really. Because Dick was a presence—magnetic, charming, always the kind of guy who could steal attention in any room, even when he wasn’t trying.

But with you? He liked to stay hidden. Lurking in the shadows. Watching.

At first, it was innocent (or so he told himself). He noticed you at a coffee shop one day, lost in a book, chewing on the end of your pen as you scribbled something in a notebook. He found himself drawn to the little things—the way you furrowed your brows when concentrating, the way you smiled at something on your phone, the soft way you carried yourself. It was just curiosity at first. That’s all.

Then he saw you again. And again. And suddenly, he was seeing you everywhere.

It became a habit, a compulsion. He memorized your routine like it was a mission. When you got coffee. What time you left work. What stores you liked to browse in. He told himself he was just making sure you were safe—because Gotham was dangerous, right? A girl like you, alone? Vulnerable? It only made sense that he’d keep an eye on you.

Then he got closer.

It started small. Brushing past you on the subway, close enough to inhale the scent of your shampoo. Sitting near you in a cafe, pretending to be busy on his phone while he listened to the way you spoke. Learning your favorite drink, so he could leave it waiting for you at the counter when you arrived—anonymously, of course. You’d glance around, confused, but never knew it was him.

You weren’t even aware that he was already in your apartment.

Not when you were there, of course—he’d never scare you like that. But while you were out? He’d slip inside with an ease that almost disappointed him (you really needed better locks). He never took anything—he just… looked. Examined the little pieces of your life. The books stacked beside your bed. The jewelry you left on the dresser. The clothes draped over the chair, still carrying the ghost of your body’s warmth.

He touched them sometimes. Ran his fingers over the fabric. Just to feel close to you.

The obsession grew.

He started taking things—small things, things you wouldn’t notice were gone. A hair tie. A receipt you left on the counter. A half-used tube of lip balm. They were trophies, proof that he was part of your world even if you didn’t know it yet.

And the pictures. Oh, the pictures.

They covered his walls. You smiling. You asleep on the bus, head tucked against the window. You looking at a menu, deep in thought. Hundreds of them, from every angle, every moment of your life he could capture without you noticing.

And the best part?

You liked him.

You had no idea, of course, but Dick could see it. The way you glanced at him when he finally started talking to you, when he finally made himself known in your life. It was easy—he was charming, he was sweet, he was everything you’d want in a guy.

So he inserted himself into your life, seamlessly.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here!” A bright smile. A friendly laugh. “What a coincidence, huh?”

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was orchestrated, down to the second. Every “random” encounter, every meeting—it was all planned, deliberate. But you didn’t question it. Why would you? He was Dick Grayson. A gentleman. A hero.

You never realized the full weight of his devotion.

Never realized how deep it ran.

Never realized how much worse it could get.

Because the thought of losing you? The thought of someone else having you?

It made him sick.

It made him furious.

It made him violent.

You noticed the change after a while. The possessiveness in his touch, the way his grip lingered on your wrist, the way his blue eyes darkened when you so much as smiled at another man.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he’d say, voice honey-sweet. “You’re too trusting, sweetheart. Not everyone has good intentions.”

Not like him.

So when your ex went missing, you didn’t think much of it.

When that guy at work—the one who flirted with you—got mugged and beaten within an inch of his life, you chalked it up to Gotham’s crime rate.

And when you started feeling like you were being watched, even in the safety of your own home—well.

Dick was always there to reassure you.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And he meant it.

Even if that meant keeping you all to himself.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[flwrkid14]

Tim Works Hard So He Can Nap Harder

The thing about Tim is that he gets things done.

Not in a normal, reasonable, “wow, he’s really productive” way. No, Tim operates on an entirely different plane of efficiency—one that defies common sense and possibly the laws of physics.

Give him a five-hour task? He’ll finish it in two. Tell him something is impossible? He’ll stare at you, offended, before proving you so wrong it physically hurts.

Sometimes, it’s out of sheer spite. Bruce once told him a mission was too complicated for him to handle alone, so Tim completed it in record time out of pettiness alone. Jason told Tim he didn’t have the skill set for corporate espionage. So Tim hacked three shell companies overnight, uncovered Black Mask’s entire financial network, and sent Jason a PowerPoint presentation with the subject line: “Skill Set Acquired”.

Other times, it’s about time management. Tim understands, at his very core, that the faster he works, the sooner he can stop working. If he has to burn through a mountain of reports in a single hour so he can take a nap, then so be it. If he has to analyze data at inhuman speeds so he can binge-watch a show later, then he will.

The bats have learned to just… let it happen.

Dick once made the mistake of asking Tim to help him streamline his schedule. Tim, in under an hour, not only optimized his entire calendar but also accounted for every possible emergency, scheduled backup time slots for rescheduling, and somehow made Dick twice as productive without making him feel busier. It was kinda terrifying.

Barbara asked him to double-check some intel. He cross-referenced it against every available database, found three hidden links no one had noticed, and sent her a color-coded report with visual aids.

Bruce told him to track a smuggling ring in Gotham. Tim mapped out their entire operation in one night, had arrests lined up by morning, and then went home to sleep like a corpse.

Steph once sarcastically asked if Tim could figure out how to clean up the Gotham underworld in a week. Tim pulled out a ten-step plan before she even finished her sentence.

Tim doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t believe in half-measures. He works fast, works well, and then disappears before anyone can ask him for more.

The only thing scarier than Tim’s efficiency is the fact that he actively chooses to use it selectively.

Because while Tim is capable of working like a one-man army, when it benefits him, he’s also capable of weaponized uselessness. If he doesn’t want to do something, suddenly he’s the most inefficient person alive.

He’ll take weeks to answer a text. He’ll forget how to do basic tasks. He’ll act so completely incapable of anything that people just stop asking him for things.

But when he wants something done?

It’s over before you even realize he started.

[chleem]

Love Deception III

Series : ceo!drew starkey x assistant!reader

Summary: In order to secure a business deal, you pose as Drew’s girlfriend at an engagement party.

Genre: fake dating, slowburn, age gap (31 & 26), (read at own caution

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work!

⋆.˚ inspired by this tweet!

♡⸝⸝ two | index | four

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Wow, this looks amazing, Mrs Harrington,”

You immediately compliment the food scattered across the dining table, eyes lightening up at the sight of it. You hadn’t even realized you were hungry until you saw how beautifully cooked this dinner was. 

“Call me Lily,” she gives you a wink, her smile warm and inviting. Her eyes flicker between you and Drew as her husband instinctively pulls out her chair, “sit- sit, make yourselves comfortable.”

Your hand reaches to pull out your chair, instead, crashing with Drew’s, whose… surprisingly, doing it for you. 

You quickly retreat, glancing at Drew, hoping to catch a flicker of anything—anything—that might give away what he's thinking, but his expression remains neutral, as always. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, sitting down in your seat. 

“I haven’t cooked this much since Thanksgiving,” Lily jokes, starting to pick up food onto her own plate. “But I just had to for-“

Your eyes begin to scan the table, her voice fading into the background as your focus sharpens. 

Cacio e Pepe. You spot it, one of your favorite dishes—there, across the table. 

On Drew’s side of the table. 

You watch as he serves some onto his own plate, and you contemplate about speaking up. 

“-do you cook at home, y/n?”

The sudden and first question of the evening tears your attention away from the plate of pasta. 

“Oh, uh… sometimes, but just really quick, simple stuff,” you answer, and your eyes land on the seafood risotto in front of you. You’re suddenly torn—your favorite dish is across the table, but this risotto... it's right in front of you. 

Okay. Risotto’s not bad either, right? 

You grab the the communal spoon, and serve yourself a portion of the seafood risotto.

There’s also steak on the table, perfectly seared, and you can’t resist adding a slice of that as well. 

“Simple’s often the best,” James winks over at you, earning a chuckle from his wife. 

You politely smile, preparing to dig into the food on your plate, when it’s suddenly snatched away. 

Your fork hovers mid-air as you blink in surprise. 

Drew’s hand has swapped your plate with his, and now your eyes land on the contents:, the Cacio e Pepe, a side salad, and a slice of that steak. 

You glance up at Drew, but he doesn't look at you, focusing on his own plate. 

But you can see- that little, briefly there, curve of his lip. 

“So, are there anything you two like to do? Like, outside of work?”

You slowly start eating the food Drew swapped with yours, the flavors of the Cacio e Pepe hitting you in unexpected waves of comfort.

“Y/n likes art,” he says, without looking at you. “She goes- visits a new gallery every week.”

You blink, slightly surprised. How does he know that?

You manage a tight smile, turning your attention to the Harringtons across the table as you chew, James laughing softly before chiming in with another question.

“No, no, I meant together,” he corrects, his gaze shifting between you and Drew, clearly intrigued. “What do you two do together?”

Your eyes flicker to Drew once again, seeing the way he pauses. 

You clear your throat, stepping in. Because, that’s your job, right? As his assistant, help him fill in some gaps. 

Including now, as you lie, “Well, we... go on trips.”

“Really? Where do you go?” Lily eagerly asks, before taking another bite of her own food, “Drew certainly doesn’t seem like the type.”

An exchange of soft laughs echo through the table, yourself included. 

“No- no, but we go somewhere- somewhere out of the city,” Drew says, his tone casual, but there's a slight pause as if he's carefully choosing his words. He takes a slow sip of his wine, glancing up briefly at you, "just quiet spots. Y’know, a change of scenery.”

“So…nature? Into hiking?” Lily coos, her voice filled with curiosity.

You look down at your plate, eyes widening slightly. Hiking? 

You’re not exactly an outdoor enthusiast. 

The thought of long trails and bugs isn’t exactly your idea of a getaway, but before you can even formulate a response, Drew answers smoothly.

“Yeah—yeah, but more, uh, calming,” he says, “we like peaceful walks and, uh, places to just… relax.”

His answer is vague enough to keep things believable without making either of you look too out-of-character.

The Harringtons however, seem to buy it, their smiles widening. 

“That sounds perfect,” she says, her tone bright.

You quietly chew on your plate, savoring the rich cuisine that you don’t often get to indulge in. The warmth of the food is comforting, giving you a moment of peace amidst the conversation.

Then, out of nowhere, you hear James’s voice cut through the air, “actually, there’s something we wanna… ask you two about.”

You glance up, sensing a shift in the tone of the conversation. James leans forward slightly, a glint of excitement in his eyes, as Lily’s gaze flits between you and Drew, her expression curious.

You swallow the bite in your mouth, suddenly aware of the tension that seems to hang in the air.

Drew remains composed, but you can tell by the way his jaw tightens slightly that he’s listening carefully.

Oh shit- what are they gonna ask?

It’s not even ten minutes into this dinner, and already, it seems like they’re dropping a huge bomb. 

“We just wanna get this out the way-“

“Before we talk about anything else-“

“Or we get too full-"

“We’ve been thinking for a long time-“

“Always talking-“

“Wondering if you two might be up for it-“

“You wanna say it?”

“You say it-“

“Okay, okay- I’ll say it-“

The back-and-forth between them feels almost scripted, like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com. You half-expect the camera to zoom in on their animated faces, as if this moment is building to some huge revelation.

Your tight smile and slightly widened eyes might just give away how uncomfortable you felt right now. 

“So, every year, we have an annual hunting party,” James starts, and you gulp down the food in your mouth. 

Hunting party? You blink, processing the words. People still do that? People can still do that?…But then again, they were ridiculously rich. Of course they did extravagant things like that.

“Wow- that sounds, amazing,” you hear Drew comment beside you. As sarcastic as it sounds, he somehow makes it come across as genuinely interested.

James nods, continuing, “It’s a tradition we’ve had for years, and we always invite our closest friends.”

“- and we thought it’d be a great fit for you two. A chance to get to know everyone better—and of course, enjoy the outdoors!” Lily practically cheers, clapping her hands in excitement. 

The couple’s smiles felt like as if you were staring directly at the sun.

Oh my fucking god. 

You’re still processing the idea of an actual hunting event. The image in your head involves fancy rifles, a private estate, and people dressed in expensive outdoor gear. 

It’s hard to picture yourself in the midst of all that, but you nod along, trying to mask your surprise. 

You advert to the food, chewing on it intently. 

You really don’t know what to think. A whole day with rich strangers, all while pretending to be Drew’s girlfriend? Definitely not your idea of fun.

It…it sounded like a nightmare. 

Willingly spend time with a bunch of rich people? Yeah- no. 

“Oh, and it’s the whole weekend!” Lily adds, as if it would make the decision better, “so, a little getaway!”

“An island that’s been passed down from each generation,” James chimes in, his tone dripping with pride. “It’s private, of course. No interruptions, just us and nature.”

You nod absently, trying to force the smile back on your face. An island? Great.

Basically no room for escaping. 

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay calm, to play along.

The food seems tasteless now, and you can’t focus on anything else but the suffocating pressure to deliver. 

Say yes? Say no?

But then, you feel the gentle warmth of a hand placed on your thigh.

It’s Drew’s hand, his ring cold against your skin— yet steady, and strangely comforting. 

Almost as if his touch is a reminder that you’re not in this alone…or a subtle cue that you need to hold it together, his fingers gently gripping your flesh.

You look at him, seeing that he’s already staring at you. You see that smile on his face- the one you know can’t be faked. 

“We’ll think about it,” Drew says, his tone polite, turning away from you. "I mean, we’ve got other schedules, and so on.”

His hand remains there, and you feel a sense of reassurance in a moment where everything seems all too wrong. 

The moment you feel that pressure start to lift, Lily and James exchange an almost imperceptible glance. It’s clear they’re a little disappointed, but they don’t push. They simply nod, their smiles tightening just slightly.

“Well, of course,” James says with a gracious wave of his hand. “Take your time. We’ll send over the details. No rush.”

“Thank you, we’ll definitely—definitely try and fit it into our schedule,” Drew smiles, his voice smooth, the professional manner of his never slipping. 

Yet, just like that, his hand slips off your thigh.

The absence of his touch is oddly jarring. For a second, you almost feel a sense of loss, as if the warmth and quiet reassurance he provided had evaporated with his hand.

You shift, feeling self-conscious as you force another bite into your mouth. 

“But, uh, what made you consider us?” Drew asks, his tone light, more jokingly now. He leans back slightly in his chair, his usual confidence returning now that he doesn’t have to answer any more questions about your relationship.

His eyes twinkle with that familiar mischievous and easygoing gleam, but yours twinkle down at his hands, suddenly aware of how his hands look. Or more, the one that was just gently caressing your thigh. 

James chuckles, “want us to be completely honest?”

“Please- of course,” Drew takes a sip of his wine.

You lean back into your chair, letting out a small breath as the energy of the dinner shifts, the spotlight turning back to Drew as the Harringtons continue, clearly amused by the change in tone.

As you take another bite of your food, it suddenly tastes different—like you can finally savor it again.

“We’re getting married. We like to hang out in twos.”

So the rumors are true.

The Harringtons, a newly engaged couple, has become one of those pairs who only seem to socialize with other couples.

“And at the engagement party- we talked about that deal, right?” James continues, a knowing look passing between him and Lily.

The deal! He’s mentioning it!

“Yeah, the deal,” Drew murmurs, more to himself. 

“And we thought, since our main business partner is now a couple, it could be a great chance to make some new connections,” James adds with a smile, his tone light but purposeful, “make some new friends.”

You smile at his words, and you suddenly realize that these people— seem genuinely kind. There’s a warmth in their offer, a subtle understanding that this isn’t just about business.

“So you must excuse the questions we’ve asked about you two—it’s just so sudden,” Lily adds, her tone softening, trying to ease any lingering discomfort.

You could only smile, because it seems like… they also suspect this relationship is fake. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“We also, um, just got together, so we’re still pretty nervous,” Drew lies.

You could feel his glance on the side of your face, and you nod, both of you playing the part, “yeah, we’re still figuring some stuff out.”

The Harringtons nod, almost understandingly at your comment. 

“Well, for us, at home, we also like to keep it ‘no business’ talks,” Lily adds, her tone soft and playful. She gives James a knowing smile, clearly at ease now. “Just a little rule we’ve adopted.”

You’re happy about the subtle shift in topics, moving back to the couple across from you.

“Really? Then what would you guys talk about, or …do?” You ask. 

Lily's smile widens, clearly enjoying the question, and James chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Well, anything but business,” James says, leaning back in his chair. “A tv show, her new nails-“

Lily holds out her hand with a playful twirl, showing off her freshly done nails. They’re painted in baby pink, along with crazily cute and 3D stickers on each finger. 

“These?” She laughs, wiggling her fingers. 

“Oh- they’re beautiful,” you compliment, instinctively reaching your hand out to hers, admiring the detail.

Lily beams, her eyes lighting up at the praise, letting you hold her hand for a few seconds. “I’m obsessed with them right now. James thinks they’re a little too much, but that’s just him.”

Her husband chuckles, shaking his head lightly, as if this is an ongoing debate between them. “They’re... definitely a lot, but hey, whatever makes her happy.”

“What- I think James is a boring old man,” Drew teases, and you turn around, raising an eyebrow at him unexpectedly.

You didn’t see this side of Drew— so at ease around clients. He was always polished, professional, but this playful teasing? It was a side you rarely got to see. 

It threw you off for a second, and you can’t help but glance over at him, wondering how comfortable he really is in this situation.

His grin widens as he catches your look, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

James raises an eyebrow, a bit taken aback, but he laughs it off. “Well, someone’s gotta keep things balanced around here.”

“He’s a boring old man!” Lily loudly whispers to you and Drew, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can’t help but chuckle, glancing over at James, who’s still trying to process the teasing.

You lower your voice, leaning closer to Lily. “I think you’re right.”

“I knew you’d get it,” she says with a wink, before turning back to James, who’s now pretending to be offended.

Your grin widens, playing along, but deep down, something feels off. You’re grinning, but inside, your heart is cringing. This feels way too casual, you think. Too... friend-like with clients.

It’s a strange feeling—being so relaxed in a setting where you’re supposed to be professional. You're used to keeping things composed, especially with Drew, your boss. But here you are, being pulled into this lighthearted banter that doesn’t sit right.

And you feel as if you’re the only one that doesn’t fit in, because well, all three of them have huge, staggering amount of wealth upon them. 

You? You only have staggering amounts of debt, unease, and responsibilities. 

“But seriously though- we also play board games,” James says, bringing the conversation back. 

“..maybe we’re so boring that we need to torture others to eat dinner with us on a Friday,”Lily teases her husband.

You and Drew exchange a polite laugh, and he’s quick to assure them, “no, no, we couldn’t have spent tonight, in any other way.”

“How flattering,” James smiles, clearly pleased with the response. “Then would you two stay later to play a round of Monopoly?”

You laugh, glancing over at Drew, awaiting his call. 

After all, he was the boss, and he decided when the job was done. And in the Harringtons' case, it might be undone for a veryyyy long time.

Drew slides an arm around the back of your chair, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

“Of course,” Drew says, “we’ll definitely, definitely stay for the afterparty.”

The Harringtons smile, as if it’s the best news they’ve ever received. 

The rest of the dinner breezes by smoothly. The conversation flows effortlessly, the awkwardness from earlier fading into the background. The atmosphere feels lighter now, with laughter and casual chatter filling the air. As much as you can’t fully relax, the Harringtons’ warmth and easy-going nature make it a bit easier to play the part, just like Drew so effortlessly does.

By the time dessert is served, you're almost starting to forget that this whole evening was part of a bigger plan. Almost.

——

The car ride home is heavy with silence. 

It’s the kind of quiet that settles in when you realize how far you’ve pushed the boundaries, how much you’ve flirted— pretended to love your boss, all for the business deal.

At least during the engagement party, you’ve drank enough to nap in the car. 

Okay, maybe napping in the car with your boss right next to you was weird too. 

Now? Just a few sips of wine, but still really awake. 

You look out the window, the scenery slowly shifting—luxury to more worn streets, as it leads to your neighborhood. Your home.

This, the scenery outside the exact reason why you always ask to be dropped off at the subway station. 

You didn’t know why, but it was suddenly awkward to be alone with Drew. Maybe it was the pretending, or the touches. But it was a bit suffocating, to be sweet with your boss. 

And just as the station comes into view, you lean forward, telling the driver, “Oh, drop me off here, thanks.” 

It was a phrase that you have stopped saying three months into working with Drew, but now, it has resurfaced again. 

You start to unbuckle your seatbelt, the flickering car lights casting shadows on your hand, when Drew’s hand covers yours, brushing it off gently.

“Just drive to her place,” Drew says, his voice steady.

The driver nods, pulling away from the curb.

“What? No, just pull over-“

“Just sit back,” Drew interrupts.  

You glance over at him, confused, and he’s leaning back in his seat, legs spread out like he’s settled in for a long ride. He’s not looking at you; looking straight ahead and biting gently on his lower lip. 

You hesitate, your hand still half on the seatbelt, but you drop it, sinking back into the leather seat.

You rest one of your hands on the middle seat, and your eyes drift over to Drew’s hand, resting there, palm spread, the ring glistening in the dim light of the car. 

You can’t help but stare, the size of his hand almost too much to ignore. It reminds you of how his fingers felt earlier—strong, sure, and just…Drew. 

Your breath catches, and for a second, you’re suddenly so aware of being in the backseat with Drew. And also this whole…arrangement with him. 

No- no, don’t overthink it. It’s just a job. Nothing more. 

You turn away, focusing your gaze on the streets that become more familiar with each passing block.

Just as the hum of the air conditioning fills the car again, Drew’s deep voice cuts through. 

“That…trip,” he starts. 

You don’t want to look at him. You keep your back leaned against the seat, eyes glued to the window.

When you don’t reply, he adds, “The hunting party?”

Oh shit. 

You totally forgot. You’d gotten so lost in the whole dinner, the board games afterwards, that it slipped through your mind. 

Not looking at him doesn’t last long, though, as you quickly turn around. 

You’re met with those blue eyes of his, the only thing that shines through the dark car.

“Right," you say, voice a little too tight, "The hunting party.”

“..you don’t wanna go.”

“No—no, I do,” you lie, looking ahead, trying to steady your breath. You nod, but it feels stiff, too obvious. You weren’t a bad liar, but somehow, you can’t fake it around Drew. Not entirely. 

“It sounds amazing,” you whisper, trying to sound excited. 

You can feel the weight of his stare burning the side of your face, making your skin feel too tight. The silence stretches for a few seconds, though, felt like eternity. 

You weren’t sure why it was so awkward with Drew now. But it is. 

“…you don’t wanna go,” he repeats again, and this time, you hear the smile in his voice, the slight tease and knowing. “Why?”

Your lips press together, and you instinctively pout, the expression betraying you before you can stop it. You want to say something, anything, to brush off his words, but they hang there, heavy and expectant.

“I want to go,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe it. The pout lingers on your lips, despite your best effort to hide it. 

“Come on, just admit it,” Drew presses, his voice low, almost coaxing, “you promised.”

There it was again. Yesterday, he’d just remind you of the promise you made with him, one of the first conversations you two had. To be fully transparent with each other, for this assistant/boss dynamic to work. 

He didn’t need to remind you for the past year, since, well, it had become a habit, where you spoke your mind without hesitation. 

But, maybe because of your new role, that this might be getting a bit personal. 

Too personal. 

“Fine,” you mutter, crossing your arms, still keeping your eyes fixed ahead, afraid  to meet his gaze. 

How does one rephrase thoughts? To sound more…professional?

“I… I don’t want to be around rich people,” you blur out. 

Somehow, it sounded much better in your brain. 

You could feel your cheeks going red, your lips forming a wider pout, mainly out of embarrassment. 

But before you can retreat into silence, you push forward, desperate to make sense of it.

“It’s an island…and three whole days! That would be…” you glance up to make the calculations in your head, “72 hours! We would have to fake for 72 hours. We couldn’t even get through that dinner- or the one last week!”

“Y/n-“

“I think…the problem might be me, though. I- I don’t think I’m cut out to play your girlfriend. I’m just an assistant-“

“Y/n-“

“And you’re this- CEO, with your perfect suit, life-“

“Y/n,” Drew interrupts, his voice cutting through your ramble, calm but firm.

You freeze, suddenly aware of how far you’ve gone. You didn’t even realize you’d said that much.

In a rush of embarrassment, you bury your face into your palms, your heart pounding in your chest. God, why did I just say all of that?

The silence stretches, and all you can hear is the pounding of your own thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumble through your hands, wishing you could take it all back.

You cringe at how unprofessional that was. 

But then again, Drew did invite you to say everything you were thinking of. 

Then Drew laughs.

It’s that signature deep-throated laugh, the one that rolls out of him effortlessly when he’s genuinely amused, or when he finds something unexpectedly funny.

You don’t know why, but you wanna see it. 

You turn your head over, and sure enough, he is smiling. You could see it; his mouth parted slightly in a smile, and his eyes, even softer in the shadows, crinkling at the corners.

“Sorry- sorry, but, that was cute.”

Your eyes widen at his compliment; it was the second one of the night. 

“Are you saying- saying that you’re not good enough to be my girlfriend?”

You blink at his word choice, eyes widening more, if that’s even possible. 

“To play your girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Drew shifts in his spot, and you can see him spreading his legs further. He leans an arm against the car door, fingertips rubbing the side of his face, as if deep in thought.

“Yeah- I mean, I’m not an actor. I can’t lie.”

“But only you would make sense.”

“That’s a stretch-“

“No, seriously,” he starts, and you could hear the exact moment when his work mode switches on- the voice he uses when he’s persuading investments, all smooth and calculated. 

“You…you’ve worked with me for more than two years. I know you. And I know that- that you know how to read the situation, think on your feet. That’s exactly what- what I need.”

“…besides, didn’t I say this to you the other day?” Drew adds, his gaze softening, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

The memory of a few days ago, when you were in Drew’s office, him asking you to be his fake girlfriend, flashed through your mind. 

“You did—but you saw how we did just then. We were a mess.”

“I- I wouldn’t call it a mess.”

You give him a look, one that mixes exasperation with disbelief. “They said it themselves. They don’t believe we’re together.”

Drew’s answer comes with a pause, his gaze narrowing slightly, “then… then what should we do?”

You know that once Drew asks those words, it’s almost like a test to your role as his assistant. To come up with the best solution, deliver it perfectly, like you always do. 

But, the stakes are higher now, more real than you’d anticipated. The Harringtons, the deal, everything—it’s all hinged on the belief that you and Drew are a couple, and you know that if you’re going to pull this off, things are about to get a lot more complicated. 

Your mind begins to race. You need to convince the world, but convincing the Harringtons is just the start.

The next step—how you make them believe—is suddenly so clear, yet so daunting.

You swallow, trying to steady your breath. “We need…need to practice.”

The car comes to a stop, and when you glance outside, you realize it’s your apartment complex. 

But you don’t make a move to get out. Instead, you’re focused on Drew’s expression. The streetlight outside bathes his face in a soft glow, casting shadows that make his features look even sharper. 

You catch the corner of his lips tugging up into a slight smile.

Why is he smiling? You don’t know. 

“Practice?” He repeats, his voice low, almost as if amused. 

You move uncomfortably in your seat, trying to maintain your usual professional tone, but it's harder now. "Yeah," you say, your voice steadier than you feel, "practice. If we want this to be convincing, we need to be… real.”

"And...practice can help?"

"...yeah."

Drew tilts his head slightly, “how?”

"Small things," you start slowly, "things that couples do. Holding hands, nicknames... I don’t know. Just enough to make it feel natural.”

He’s taking a long time to answer again, and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Was this too much? Too forward? Too unprofessional?

You fidget with your fingers, looking down at your lap again. 

Finally, Drew speaks, and you could hear him moving in his seat again. 

"You sure?"

High risk high reward.

Fuck it.

"Yes."

“Okay. I’ll- I’ll practice with you.”

You blink, your breath catching for a split second. 

His tone is different— it’s almost too calm, too easy. He’s agreeing to this, just like that. And somehow, that makes the situation feel even more intense.

You look back up, your smile briefly there. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Um- so, yes to the hunting party?”

“Uh- yeah, yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll tell the Harringtons tomorrow.”

Drew nods, biting down on his lower lip. 

“Then, um, I should get out now,” you say, clicking your seatbelt off. 

He doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, there’s a brief pause where he seems to reconsider something, but then, as if snapping back to the present, he nods, “yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

You give him a smile, one tinged with nerves, before opening the car door. The cool night air hits you as you step out. 

And you don’t know why, but you do it again; giving a quick wave to the blacked-out windows, even though you can’t see anything inside. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Your feet move before you could even process it, and once you step into your apartment building, the realization hits you at once; 

You’re gonna practice being Drew’s girlfriend. 

Practice. 

…practice. 

Which, is as simple as it sounds, right?

Right?

-------------------------------

word count: 4.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i was smiling like mad crazy when writing this. also, the pics of anya and drew??? so cute tf

and yes, a part of me died at the sag awards when he's no longer blond... but buzzcut ?- classic.

official taglist for this series: @ecstqzy @wheeniemyloove @melvigaristaa @hugheswife @maybankslover @iwannagetdickeddown @lilithblackkk @mattiwe01 @rafeslvttygirl @jessiskindacoolig @suzuki-18

elevator | other | two | index | four

[gf2bellamy]

hi, angel! your writing is beautiful and i hope it’s okay that i ask for a request. i was wondering if i could get some hurt/comfort of ANY FORM but i would particularly enjoy reader comforting spencer. maybe they find him high as a kite in his apartment and they help him sober up and they take care of him (s2) or maybe he has a terrible nightmare involving reader and they calm him down (s12 post-prison). who knows! it’s all up to you. thank you again!

nightmares — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer has nightmares , also mention of spencer not sleeping a/n: hiii !!<333 i hope you like this :)

You weren’t really paying attention to whatever science fiction show was playing—just a random episode of something Spencer had put on earlier.

It had been a nice evening. Garcia and Luke had stopped by, the four of you laughing over takeout containers and easy conversation in Spencer’s apartment. Hours had slipped away without notice, and by the time Garcia and Luke decided to head home, it was very late.

Now, it was just you and Spencer. Well, Spencer was fast asleep.

You sat curled up in his armchair, your legs tucked beneath you, watching him from across the room. His head rested against a pillow on the couch, his breath steady and slow. Loose curls fell over his face, shifting slightly every time he exhaled.

For a moment, you considered going home. You could slip out quietly, head back to your own bed and let him sleep undisturbed.

But the thought of him waking up to an empty apartment made you hesitate.

You knew how much silence could sometimes feel suffocating to him, how loneliness could creep in during the quiet hours of the night.

So, instead, you leaned back against the chair, resting your head against the plush fabric, willing yourself to stay awake just a little longer.

Just in case he stirred. Just in case he needed someone there when he did.

Some time had passed, and you were pretty sure you had dozed off for a few seconds when a sound from the couch jolted you back to awareness. Blinking away the haze of sleep, you turned your head, rubbing your eyes as you tried to focus.

Spencer shifted restlessly, his body twitching, his breath coming faster.

At first, you thought he was simply stirring, but as you watched, confusion giving way to concern, you realized—he was having a nightmare.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should wake him. Spencer didn’t talk much about his nightmares, but you knew he had them.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up from the armchair, stepping lightly toward the couch. His face was tense, brows furrowed, his lips moving as he muttered something under his breath—words you couldn’t quite catch.

“Spencer,” you said softly, reaching out to graze his arm, your fingers barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t wake. If anything, he tensed further, his body practically curling in on itself.

Your heart clenched.

This time, you gripped his arm a little more firmly, shaking him gently but with purpose. “Spencer,” you repeated, voice a little steadier now.

His breath hitched, his body stiffening beneath your touch. And then, all at once, his eyes flew open.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just stared at each other, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the shadows of whatever nightmare had gripped him still lingering in his eyes.

Spencer sat up slightly, shifting so there was space for you to sit at the edge of the couch. Hesitantly, you lowered yourself down, your fingers twitching at your sides, unsure if you should reach for him again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a shaky hand through his curls, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, watching as his fingers trembled slightly in his hair. You hesitated before adding, “Are you okay?”

A stupid question, you realized the second it left your lips. Of course, he wasn’t. How could he be?

It had only been a few months since he got out of prison, but the weight of it still clung to him. You saw it in the way his shoulders tensed at sudden noises, in the way his eyes darted around unfamiliar spaces as if searching for an escape.

And in moments like this—when sleep wasn’t an escape but a trap, forcing him to relive things he never spoke about.

He let out a slow breath, dropping his hand from his hair. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickered to yours for a moment before he looked away, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting to keep himself together.

Your chest ached. You wanted to say something that would make it better, something that would chase away whatever ghosts were haunting him. But words felt useless.

So instead, you reached for his hand.

He tensed at first—just a slight, instinctive reaction—but then, after a beat, he let you take it. His fingers were warm against yours.

“I… I couldn’t save you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “In the dream, you were… and I couldn’t…” He trailed off, his grip tightening on your hand as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Your heart broke a little at the raw vulnerability in his voice. “Spencer,” you said softly, waiting until he opened his eyes to look at you. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to save me because I’m already safe. We’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice cracking.

“Stop apologizing,” you said gently.You traced his fingers lightly, barely a whisper of touch.

“I’m sorry you have them,” you murmured, your voice quiet, almost unsure. Your eyes flickered downward, focusing on the way your fingers tangled together.

Spencer followed your gaze, watching your hands with an unreadable expression. He was sitting more upright now.

He was silent for a long moment before exhaling through his nose, shaking his head. “They’re… inevitable,” he said, voice rough around the edges. “I’ve had nightmares before. But these…” He trailed off, his fingers twitching against yours.

“These are different,” you finished for him.

He swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

You didn’t ask for details. You didn’t press. If he wanted to tell you, he would. If he needed the space to keep it to himself, you’d give him that, too.

Still, you wanted to help—somehow.

“What do you do when you have them?” you asked softly. You were certain this wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares about prison.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a second before he answered. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you repeated, your heartbeat picking up as you felt his grip tighten slightly around your hand. His thumb absentmindedly traced slow, careful circles against your skin, and you had to remind yourself to focus.

“I just stay awake after having them,” he admitted, his voice quiet. His eyes flickered toward the television before settling back on your entangled hands.

You frowned. “Well, that’s not healthy.”

A ghost of a smile almost—almost—touched his lips. “I don’t think nightmares care much about health,” he murmured.

You sighed, shifting slightly so you were angled toward him more. “Still, you can’t just stay awake all night every time.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but his fingers stilled against yours, and you could tell he was thinking about it.

“I don’t think you should stay awake now,” you murmured, your voice soft but certain. “It’s not good for you. And I’m worried about you, Spence.”

You had been suppressing the urge to reach for him all night, resisting the pull of wanting to smooth his unruly curls.

But now, you let yourself give in. Gently, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear.

Spencer exhaled sharply, to tell you that you didn’t need to worry about him. “You don’t have to be—”

“But I am,” you whispered, your fingertips grazing lightly against his temple before you pulled back.

An idea formed in your mind, and before you could say it, Spencer must have already guessed where your thoughts were headed.

“No, you don’t have to—” he started, already shaking his head.

“Maybe it’ll help,” you interrupted, standing up, your hand still holding his. You didn’t let go. “Unless… you don’t want to?”

Spencer hesitated for only a second before following your lead, standing as well. “No, I want to, I just—” He swallowed, his voice quieting. “What if I have another nightmare and wake you up?”

You were already gently pulling him toward his bedroom, your fingers laced with his. You looked back at him, offering the smallest smile.

“I don’t mind.”

And you meant it.

You pulled him into his bedroom, where the bedcovers were neatly tucked in. As you let go of his hand, the reality of the situation began to settle in. Nervousness bubbled up in your chest.

You quickly pulled the covers back, trying to focus on the simple task of making the bed look comfortable.

He sat on the bed first, scooting over to give you room. You followed, sliding in beside him.

Spencer laid his head back on the pillow, his eyes closing briefly. You did the same, but the silence stretched for a moment longer than usual.

Then, as if by some silent agreement, you both turned your heads at the same time.

You met his eyes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Your hair is so chaotic,” you said softly in a playful tone.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a smile too. “I know,” he replied, his voice light. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.”

You laughed quietly, the sound low and warm between you.

And without thinking, you reached over, your fingers gently pushing a few stray curls from his forehead. He didn’t pull away, letting you fix it, the touch soft and almost reverent.

“You’re lucky I like chaos,” you murmured, the smile still lingering as you brushed your fingers through his hair for a second longer than you intended.

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he turned slightly toward you, the space between you now much smaller than before. His hand found yours, fingers brushing lightly, sending warmth flooding through you.

“Thanks for staying,” he said quietly.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in response. “Of course.”

After a beat, he shifted, and before you even realized it, his body had turned toward yours, his arm pulling you gently closer. You didn’t resist, your body responding instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of him beside you.

Slowly, you both became a tangle of limbs, your head resting against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling the tension leave your body as Spencer’s breathing slowed beside you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, the motion soothing.

The next morning, the soft light from the window gently woke you up. Your eyes opened slowly, still heavy with sleep, but then you realized after a moment that Spencer was already awake.

He was tracing soothing circles on your back, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, lost in thought.

You stirred slightly in his arms, and his attention shifted, his eyes landing on you. He watched you for a moment before you finally lifted your head, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice low and groggy, as his hand brushed a few strands of hair away from your face.

“Hi,” you whispered back, smiling softly but resisting the urge to just close your eyes again and fall back to sleep against his chest.

There was a brief moment of silence between you both. Spencer’s fingers continued their slow, calming motion on your back, but then he spoke again, his voice quieter now, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he said, his words tentative but hopeful, as if he was waiting for confirmation.

A rush of happiness flooded through you, you sat up, crossing your legs in front of you. You turned toward him with a wide, genuine smile, your heart skipping a beat.

“Really?” you asked, your eyes sparkling as you looked at him.

“Really,” Spencer nodded, his voice still soft but with an edge of relief in it.

You couldn’t help but smile even wider, the warmth in your chest spreading. “I’m so glad, Spence,” you said, your voice filled with genuine happiness.

Spencer seemed to search your face for a moment, then his hand reached out to rest gently on yours, fingers interlacing. He gave you a small but sincere smile.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You squeezed his hand gently. "Anytime," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his. "I’ll always be here."

And in that moment, Spencer realized just how much you meant to him, how much peace you’d brought into his life, even when he wasn’t asking for it.

[eringobragh420]

ᥫ᭡ CODY RHODES dating headcanons ᥫ᭡

♣️ Pairing — Cody Rhodes ♥︎ f!Reader (no use of y/n) ♣️ Word Count — 900 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Mention of dacryphilia, cockwarming, unprotected p in v, plugs and toys, Sir/Daddy kink, anal, cum (18+) ♣️ Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! ♣️ MASTERLIST

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 likes coming home—or to the hotel room, or the bus—to find you waiting for him. Naked. Ready to be used any way he sees fit. You change your position and location often—on the bed in the master, on your knees in the living room, splayed across the dining table. You’re his favorite surprise.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 drags the golden chain from his vest down your nude body—between your breasts, dipping into your belly button, and he licks his perfect lips when the jewelry slips along your glistening folds.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 never even considered cockwarming until he met you. Now it’s all he thinks about. Making you sit on his lap, thick cock buried so far in your cunt he’s positive it’s entered your stomach, and you’re not permitted to move, not allowed to distract him as he peruses schedules and itineraries, signs contracts and even makes business calls. You always fail—hips swiveling, pussy clenching, cumming without even realizing it was about to happen—and maybe that’s his goal. Because then you try extra hard next time.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 cums a lot. You have to swallow twice—three times if he’s been gone for an extended period of time—when he shoots in your mouth. His facials are literal showers. And his load starts leaking out of your pussy before he’s even finished giving it to you.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 keeps your panties in his pocket. Pants pocket, suit jacket pocket, vest pocket. During interviews, meet-and-greets, even while he’s in front of tens of thousands of people cutting a heartfelt promo. You’re always with him.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 is a voyeur. He’ll sit in the chair a few feet from the bed, puffing on a King of Denmark cigar, lazily massaging the lump in his pants as your fingers slip and slide along your exposed clit, as they pinch your nipples and fondle your breasts. A cigar that costs almost $5,000—he purchases ten at a time, along with the $9,000 humidor to keep them in—bought for the sole purpose of enjoying while watching you make yourself cum, his name on your lips.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 likes you to wear plugs or toys when you’re out with friends. Sometimes during work. He’ll squeeze a cute, bejeweled plug into your ass before you head out to dinner—watching you squirm and roll your hips to find a comfortable position. Or if there’s a function that might keep the two of you apart and engaged with other people, he’ll instruct you to insert a toy in your pussy that he can control via an app on his phone. From across the room, with the tap of a button, your cunt will flutter to life, and Cody smirks as he sips his drink, watching you fidget against the secret vibrations.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 has a dacryphilia kink. He’ll intentionally hurt you—spank your thighs a little too hard, choke you a little too tightly, bury his thick cock in your ass too soon—so he can hear you weep, so he can press his forehead to yours and watch with electrified eyes as tears drip down your cheeks. And then he apologizes, lying through his perfect teeth that he didn’t mean to, that he got carried away, that he won’t do it again. You believe him every time, willingly or otherwise, and he breaks his promise. Every time.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 has a Sir Mode and a Daddy Mode in the bedroom and there’s no in-between. Sir is usually the one who comes home after a particularly trying or dissatisfying—to put it lightly—night at work. Sir demands obedience from you, respect, adoration. Sir doesn’t smile, or laugh. Sir takes what he wants from his filthy little slut. Daddy, on the other hand, encourages your bratty side. Daddy wants the back talk, and hearing you giggle at the playful, “punishing” swats to your ass. Daddy loves to kiss you and tell you how pretty you are.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 wishes you didn’t want to watch his matches from the front row, but there’s not much he can do about it. He’s caught you biting your nails until they were nearly non-existent, crying (and not for any reason that he enjoys), clinging tightly to whichever unfortunate friend you’d chosen to bring along that night. You’ve had to be physically restrained from jumping the barricade on more than one occasion, security threatening to move you to a different section altogether if you didn’t behave.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 remembers every holiday and every anniversary—first kiss, first date, first night spent together—and he showers you with extravagant gifts on each one. Diamonds, trips to tropical islands, a new wardrobe, front row tickets and backstage passes to your favorite artist.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 loves your thighs. His favorite hobby is watching you walk around in your underwear, his blue eyes mapping the backs of your thighs into the perfect swell of your ass. The lines above your thighs and below your hips—he thinks they’re called thighbrows—turn him into a savage. He has to touch them, play with them, kiss them, lick them.

➵  𝒞ℴ𝒹𝓎 is a cuddler. His heart soars when you crawl into his lap for nothing other than to be held—pressing your face into his neck, sighing dramatically. His smile is uncontrollable as you tuck yourself under his arm and wrap your own arms around his waist and simply hold him while you wait to board a plane, or in the moments before his music hits, or in the first class seats on a flight across the country.

TAGLIST: @southerngirl41 @femdisa @riverina69 @rollinssection @paramedicnerd004 @mandmilovehim @brianochka @yourmommyagone22 @sweetmoonlove0214 @partypoison00 @missbmc94 @lils2795 @aureliacorvina @magicalbuttertarts @madimcg14 @thealliasylum @lov3rla03 @plaidpajamallama @princesstiti14 @damianpriestfangirl82

[abyssyby]

messy spaces

— your boys try very, very hard to keep a secret…

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: rocket baby & shy baby's (also referred to in my head as sunlight (lucian/cian) & sun-warmth (kyros/kyro)) debut! a little self-indulgent, soft sylus family moment bc he'd be a great husband and a wonderful father of two sensory-seeking boys. i hope you enjoy! ❀ -urs

sylus x reader | fluff, domestic family stuff, twin boy dad!sylus, crafty-hobby-collector mom reader, keiran & luke are here too!

Sylus needs to get you out of the house. 

He watches you flit around the room like a bird, a twin on your hip, rambling in delight about how the boys had burped loud enough they could have scared away a wanderer. And you were beautiful, a picture of comforting grace— in one of his large shirts, your hair a mess (thanks to your son chewing on it) and bright and joyful eyes shining. 

But he needs you out of the house.

He hums appreciatively when you plop down beside him on the couch, his arm automatically wounding around your shoulders and pulling you to his side. The tip of his nose tickles you as it feathers from your neck to your cheek, where he presses his lips tenderly. 

You flush and clear your throat, because no matter how long you’ve been together, with him every moment always feels like the first time. “Cian, was looking for you earlier, wanted to show you something.” 

“Hm?” he mutters, kissing back down the trail he’d traced. “What was it?” 

You shrug. “He wouldn’t show me, said it was papa’s secret.” 

Sylus’s panic was undetectable if it weren’t for the stutter in his movement. The slight flex of one of his fingers in your shoulder, the soft exhale through his nose. Ever so in tune with your husband, you raise a brow. “What is it?” 

The look he gives you is cool and unassuming, and then he flashes you a charming smile. “It’s harder to keep secrets from you when you’ve gotten so sharp.” 

“I’ve always been sharp.” you frown.

He kisses you soundly on the lips, pleased with the little pout he coaxed out of you. “And beautiful.” 

He looks at the sleeping child in your arms and bends down to kiss his forehead too. Your heart melts at the sight. Then he stands, and your frown deepens. “Where are you going?” 

“To handle a whistleblower.” he says, straightening his clothes and shooting you a mischievous grin. “And to teach him how to keep secrets from mama properly.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

For every corner, every nook and cranny of the base, Sylus had a mental replica of how it should be. One of the most surprising things you realized when you’d started to live together was how clean he was. He liked keeping things in a certain order, and because of this, he was good at leaving and moving without a trace. 

You’d abide to his rules when you moved in as much as you could, but you couldn’t keep up with his tidiness. It never bothered him though, instead, he delighted in it— to see some of his toiletries pushed to the side to make way for your own, how you sometimes accumulate glasses of water with lipstick stains by your bedside, your clothes at the foot of the bed when you’re rushing to get changed— knowing you are here, under the same roof, in the same space, with him. 

And just as he felt with your trail of breadcrumbs, he felt it tenfold with his boys. The post-hurricane-esque damage of toys and trinkets in his spotless living room, the mess of baby food on the dining table after a meal, crayon marks on his pristine walls, a stray stuffie in his office. A shock to find, of course, but it was never unwelcome. 

And so, he follows his son’s trail to the playroom (once an extra armory, flipped by you and the big twins while he was away). It wasn’t hard, it was literally a trail of animal crackers.

He pushes the already ajar door open. “Lucian—“

“—there’s too many of them, little boss—“

“—And another one—“ 

Three heads look up at him as he enters. One would argue three of his sons were caught red handed dealing illegally acquired animal crackers (it wasn’t snack time yet). But there they were, his loyal henchmen in party hats and his own three year old in a crown, arm very evidently elbow-deep into the cracker tin canister. 

“Papa!” Lucian smiles, crumbs all over his cheeks and chubby little fingers. 

“Boss.” Luke and Keiran greet as well, glancing down at the hands in their lap. 

Lucian doesn’t stay idle, instead he shakes off his crown and rushes to Sylus’s leg. He is picked up and balanced in the crook of his father’s elbow. Sylus’s eyes soften with a molten glow as he brings up gentle fingers to brush away the dirt on his boy’s cheeks. “What are you doing, little boss?” 

“Papa, I sharin’!” he grins proudly. Sylus raises a brow. 

He peeks over the child’s shoulder to Keiran and Luke with their masks half raised, already munching on the animal crackers on their plastic plates. He gives them a pointed look that makes them slow and turn away, knowing full well they weren’t supposed to succumb to snacks-during-not-snack-time. “With Luke and Keiran?” 

“Mhm!” Lucian is already trying to make his way up Sylus’s shoulders. Sylus lets him. 

“Mm, that’s kind of you.” 

A crumbly finger leaves an imprint just beside Sylus’s eye. “I good.” 

“Yes, angel.” Sylus looks up at him. Lucian’s face, a reflection of his own with your irises and your smile, hangs upside down to meet his gaze. “Did you find my surprise?” 

Lucian frowns for a moment. After the day he’s had, retrieving a memory after such a long business transaction must be a monumental feat for a clever little mind. The time today he found Luke and Keiran and was told to “shh!”. But it comes to him eventually, and when it does his face lights up like the sun. “Ah-huh!” 

“Did you show mama?” 

“No.” 

“Did you tell mama?” 

Lucian blinks. “I tell: no, mama! No go in!” 

Ah, yes. Of course. Sylus chuckles, pinching his cheeks. “Good job, angel.” 

He’ll clean the mess up later, not that he truly minds it, but he wouldn’t want ants festering in his children’s favorite room.

And that’s what it was: his need for you to have your own favorite room.

He never thought that setting up an old armory would bring this much joy to his children, having once thought the whole base was theirs to conquer, and yet seeing them return somewhere when they have no idea where to go, seeing them drift in and out of the playroom made him realize: that was their little safe space. 

And just as his little adventurers were half of him, who once in a lifetime ago, could never have enough space, enough lands, enough resources and things to dominate, they were also half you. Yearning for peace, a quiet little bubble to gather your thoughts, regulate your heart and breathe. 

He has his spaces. His boys have the base and the playroom. You… you need your bubble. 

Lucian hangs tight on his father’s head, both arms perfectly hugging the circumference as Sylus walks to the hidden room. Papa’s secret surprise.

Down the labyrinth halls, around the priceless statue of a dragon he bought at an auction (its pedestal desecrated with Bluey stickers), there lies the auspicious grey door Lucian had thought would be a good hiding spot. 

“Is book room.” Lucian says, one hand mindlessly drifting down to cover Sylus’s left eye.

Sylus doesn’t flinch, but nods. “It's mama’s room.” 

“Upstairs…” Lucian answers quietly, thinking it was a question. 

Sylus chuckles and pushes the door open. 

The incense marinates the room in the scent of fresh linens and citrus, and the sunlight shoots through the half-drawn curtains onto the soft plush carpet— the kind of texture you and Kyros particularly enjoyed. On the wall, a large shelf with lines of books and empty spaces for you to fill. A corner with an easel and paints; old paintings you’d stored away in the spare rooms to make way for your childrens’ needs dusted and placed on your old wooden art table. Your favorite weapons encased in glass, decorated the bare walls.

A desk with a laptop for your writings. A basket of yarn and needles and the other things you bring to your shared bed to poke and weave. A circular couch, closer to a cat-bed, by the window. A hammock by the wall. A beanbag in the corner. And more, so much more.

Everything Sylus had taken note of, committed to memory. Things you’ve said, “sorry for the mess” for. Things he’d thought of and said— she’d like this. All gathered, collected and stuffed— organized in this room. 

“Smell nice.” Lucian says, scrambling to get down his father’s shoulders. He does it too quickly, almost falling if it weren’t for Sylus’s foresight. He catches his toddler by the armpits with little fanfare and sets him down on his feet. Lucian, against his usual nature, walks carefully into the room, as if afraid to disrupt its peace. “Mama like books.” 

“She does.” Sylus nods, inspecting the work the bigger twins have done with the lighting. Silently regarding their good work, he looks down to his son eyeing the hammock. “Wanna try?” 

Lucian runs towards the hammock and grabs onto the tassels. But before he can tug the entire thing to come crashing down, Sylus lifts him up and places him in the giant seat. He pushes the swing and Lucian’s giggles bounce off the walls.  

Sylus beams at your smile on his son’s face. The sun setting through the western window bathing the room in a warm glow. He can’t wait to show you. He can’t wait to give it to you. He hopes, still, despite how long and how sure he’s known you, that you like it.

And that’s why he needed to get you out of the house. 

Sylus has a plan— he’s good at planning, and even better at executing those plans— and that involves gifting this to you as the big ta-da! The final pièce de résistance at the end of a good day. 

There is a traveling carnival in a few days, one he’d invited you to go see days before. You’d arm yourselves with baby carriers and strollers, extra diapers and snacks, hats and hand-held fans, and bring the boys to experience it. Then, he’d take you to a nice restaurant with air conditioning to cool down. You’d order your favorite meal, he’d pick the onions off of Kyros’s plate, and Lucain would be a mess of squash and cream. And after, you’d make it in time for the fireworks to set off across the river.

He’d drive home, hold your hand as he watches you in the corner of his eye fight back sleep, while the little snores in the back lull you to unconsciousness. You’d take the kids in from the car and set them down in the nursery, and before you head back to your own bedroom, he’d ask you if you’d like to see something he’s working on. Might even bring up Lucian’s term of— 

“Papa secret.” 

He freezes— this time, completely detectable. He has better instincts than this in other, more dire situations, like ambushes and break-ins.

But not for you. 

You, standing by the door with a smug little smirk on your pretty face. One hand guiding an already awake other twin to toddle in towards his brother. 

Lucian screams in surprise and delight, caught— because he wasn’t very good at secrets just yet. But although close, he wasn’t the one who pulled the pin on this grenade. 

Kyros. The quiet little thing. All whispers and contained excitement. The one Sylus had assumed to be safe. Wrongly.  

Now, happily chanting over and over, “Papa secret, papa secret…” 

Sylus sighs, running his fingers through his neatly done hair out of exasperation, and then turning to look at you with a defeated upturn of his lips. “Beloved.” 

You lunge. Arms embracing his shoulders and molding your lips to his. He catches you just a second later through the haze, and grins into your kiss. “You…” 

He asks, “Do you like it?”

You pull back and nod. Words cannot surmise how you feel. The stars bursting in your chest, the tears burning your eyes, the love— oh, the love the spills over and takes captive your entire soul. 

Sylus laughs, cupping your face in his large hands and kissing you again. “I’m glad.” 

You sniff, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Is this mine?” 

His thumb brushes the corner of your eye. “I don’t crochet.” 

Your fist lands on his chest with no real force. He catches it, spreads out your fingers over his heart. You stare at him thoughtfully, and it knocks the breath out of him how your eyes twinkle in the light. 

“I wanted to surprise you.” He says, tone almost apologetic. 

You smile. It dawns on you that he probably had planned this huge reveal. You consider him and brush his hair away from his eyes. “I am surprised.” 

He exhales, a scoff and an exasperated laugh. “I’m sure you’ve had your suspicions.” 

And you can’t hide the little smile you try to suppress— sure, the little twins were expected to blab one way or another, but you didn’t really need them when you have the big twins acting shifty and weird around you when you asked them what the light fixtures were for when they came in the mail. “Maybe a little.” 

“Please.” He taps your forehead with a teasing finger. “You’ve always been sharp.” 

Just before you can kiss him senseless again, his attention is called with a tug on his pant leg. Kyros stares up at him.

“Pa, up pease?” He says, pointing to his brother on the swinging hammock. 

He gives you an apologetic look which you return with a fond smile, as he pulls away from you and hauls Kyros up and places him beside his brother. 

“Papa, swing fast-fast!” Lucian howls, shaking the blanket and making the new hinges groan. 

Sylus secures Kyros with pillows and guides his hands to hold the corners of the blanket. “Tell me when it’s too fast, okay?” 

Kyros nods. And Sylus pushes. 

Quickly, the room’s once undisrupted peace is washed with a peaceful kind of chaos. Intended to be a space for you and all the things you love, now filled with the entire world. 

As Sylus pulls back to let the hammock swing from its own momentum, you wrap your arms around his torso from behind, pressing your face in the space between his shoulders. You mutter a muffled, “Thank you, my love.” 

Sylus takes your hands and brings them to his lips in reply. Needing you to know that your thanks is welcome but not needed. All he needs is this— you, your kids, and the wonderful mess you’ve made in his life.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

[neeeooon]

Hi !! I really love your writing!! Can I request blue lock boys more specific Rin Sae , Isagi and add whoever you want with an s/o that is a very famous and talented footballer that has countries and clubs fight over them and pay them ridiculous amounts just to play for them and s/o is like a real sweetheart but a real egoistic monster in the field

OFC and thank you so much!! 🤍

when you’re a famous footballer ;

bf bllk (aged up) x egoist!reader

itoshi rin

-> on paper, rin should hate you. he should see you as competition and want nothing more than to beat you, but he loves playing with you

-> you don’t get many chances to play together, since you’re busy in conferences with your team and the several clubs fighting over your egoist self, but when you’re finally together, you’re on the field

-> “oh, rin! i brought you some treats from sweden!” “thank you, sweetheart.” “do you want to play later? i learned some new plays i think will make my opponents cry ☺️”

-> rin used to be jealous when you’d get numerous calls and appear in several articles regarding your talent, but that jealousy soon turned into nothing but protectiveness. “be careful, okay? call me when you land in berlin.” “i will. i’ll bring home more candy you can sell to your friends~” “sounds like a deal.”

itoshi sae

-> you were one of the players madrid brought in to train with upcoming stars and quickly hit it off with their striker-turned-midfielder

-> you were the “nice” trainer. the one who never raised your voice during practice, and who brought snacks for the players at the end of the day. but what drew sae to you was your attitude on the field

-> complete 180. he sees you perform the plays you teach them, but your skill set is so far ahead of everyone else that it looks completely different. the fact that he loves and accepts that side of you is the reason he became your boyfriend in the first place

-> “honey, i have a shoot in an hour. do you mind dropping me off?” “not at all. big brand?” “big brand. we might be able to install a soccer field in our yard after i get paid.” “y/n, we don’t have room for a field.” “guess we just need a bigger place then!”

isagi yoichi

-> you are isagi’s sweetheart partner. the only person he refuses to cuss and be nasty around. which is ironic, considering the type of player you are on the field…

-> “where the hell did you learn to pass?! jesus, my grandmother could do better, and she’s blind!”

-> despite your foul mouth ! you are the best player on the field, and you spent hours the next morning practicing with your teammate to improve their passes so that they didn’t shoot like your blind grandmother

-> you love sneaking into isagi’s matches, wearing a disguise so people don’t realize you’re dating, and watching his ego with your own two eyes. it’s so different than yours, and you know that one day you’ll be getting professional deals together

nagi seishiro

-> there were only a few players in the world who could awaken something in nagi, and you’re one of them

-> watching you play made him want to play. the way you glide across the field, slipping between players before they realize you’re even close, scoring with such insane precision, it leaves your own teammates shocked

-> nagi’s chest always swelled up when he watched you. he told you this, shamelessly and eager to play with you, and you gladly offered to practice with him

-> now, you can’t imagine training without your lazy boyfriend. he doesn’t have the skill to copy like reo, but he doesn’t train to copy you. sometimes you catch yourself thinking he might surpass you one day, but your ego always squashes that thought pretty quick

[chokkzou]

PART. 1 ! the bllk boys discovering that they are your cute submissives (?

characters: isagi, reo, nagi, bachira, hiori, ness and kaiser.

tw?: top! male reader x sub! bllk. i speak spanish so sorry if there is any mistake or idk

link to part two !

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Yoichi Isagi has always been someone who thrives on recognition and validation. He lives for those moments when his skills are acknowledged, when he feels like he’s making a difference, when someone tells him that he’s doing great. But it wasn’t until you came into the picture that he realized just how much your words affected him.

At first, he thought it was normal—after all, he liked being praised, right? But then you started doing it in ways that left him completely off guard. A simple "good job, yoichi," said in a low, smooth tone after a match, your fingers barely brushing his sweat-dampened hair? That had him completely losing focus for the next few minutes.

And you noticed. It didn’t take you long to realize that whenever you praised him directly, with intensity in your voice, isagi would react in the most adorably helpless way. His lips would part slightly, his eyes would flicker with something unspoken, and sometimes—if you were close enough—you could hear the way his breath hitched for just a second.

One day, you decided to take it a step further. After watching him score a goal, you pulled him aside, leaned in close, and murmured, "You looked so good out there." His face turned completely red. His hands clenched into fists, his body stiffened, and he stammered something incoherent before looking away, desperately trying to regain his composure.

That’s when you knew. Compliments were his kryptonite. And if you ever wanted to see him break, all you had to do was whisper something sweet with a bit too much confidence.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Reo Mikage is used to taking the lead. He’s confident, he knows what he wants, and he’s never had a problem going after it. But for some reason, when it’s you taking control, he absolutely melts.

It started with small things—placing your hand on the small of his back to guide him through a crowded space, casually hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his head up, pulling him by the wrist with just enough force to make it clear that you were in charge.

At first, he brushed it off, laughing it away like it was nothing. But you saw the way his breath faltered each time, the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way he swallowed a little too hard when you did it without warning.

The moment you realized how much he loved it? You had casually placed your hands on his hips to move him aside while saying, "let me through, reo." He froze.

It was barely a second, but you saw the way his pupils dilated slightly, the way his lips parted as if he was about to say something but completely forgot how to speak. And when he finally stepped aside, he did it almost robotically, like his brain was still catching up with what just happened.

After that, you made sure to test the limits—pulling him into you when he wasn’t expecting it, whispering "stay still" in his ear just to see if he could obey. Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Seishiro Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He’s lazy, indifferent, and rarely puts effort into anything unless it’s truly worth his time. But for some reason, he cares so much when it comes to you.

It started out simple—he began noticing the small things you did for him. You’d grab his water bottle before he even asked, adjust his hoodie when it slid off his shoulder, remind him to eat when he got too distracted with his phone. And each time you did something for him, he’d just… stare.

Not in a creepy way. More like in complete awe.

One day, when you casually handed him a towel after practice, he took it but didn’t move. He just blinked at you, gripping the fabric a little too tightly, before mumbling, "…you’re spoiling me."

But he didn’t stop you.

And you noticed something else— nagi never initiated much, but when you did, he followed effortlessly. If you tugged on his sleeve, he’d move. If you tilted his chin up, he wouldn’t resist. If you told him to do something in that smooth, confident voice of yours, he’d do it without even thinking.

So, naturally, you started pushing the boundaries.

One evening, as he lazily lay on the couch, you ran your fingers through his hair and said, "sit up."

And without hesitation, without question, he did.

That’s when you knew— nagi wasn’t just being spoiled. He was waiting to be led.

[ikkyfics]

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."

[universefcb]

Hi!!! Can you make one which Nilo is being jealous of the reader, and biting Pedri playfully, wanting to be close to reader, thanks!

↬❥ Nilo Drama

Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

a/n: I really love Nilo and I'm happy with how big he is! And sorry for the short text, I wrote and rewrote it several times and this is what came out.

REQUESTED

warnings: No.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

It was a quiet afternoon in Pedri's apartment. He was sitting on the couch, looking at something on his phone, while you were next to him, smiling as you told a funny story about something that happened at work.

But in the corner of the room, a pair of watchful eyes were watching everything. Nilo, Pedri's dog, was in his favorite spot, lying down, but he didn't seem to be as comfortable as usual. He was watching the two of you, with his ears tilted forward and his tail slightly raised, a strange expression on his face.

When you laughed out loud, Pedri turned to look at you, and Nilo took advantage of the moment. He stood up quickly, walking to the sofa, and, with an agile movement, lightly bit Pedri's leg - a playful bite, but one that soon caused a reaction.

“Hey! Nilo!” Pedri exclaimed, laughing, trying to gently push him away. “That’s no way to get attention, boy.”

But Nilo, not realizing he was being ignored, took a step back and positioned himself closer to you, leaning his body against your side, as if he wanted to ensure that he was the one receiving all the affection now. The situation left Pedri with an amused expression, but also a little perplexed.

“Are you jealous, Nilo?” you joked, petting the dog, who responded by wagging his tail enthusiastically. “Maybe he wants a little more attention, doesn’t he?”

Pedri laughed at the scene. “It seems he’s determined to steal you from me today.”

You, with a smile, continued to pet Nilo, who seemed to completely relax by your side, ignoring Pedri completely. “Sometimes, Nilo is the one who is right,” you replied with a laugh.

Pedri raised an eyebrow, still surprised by the dog's reaction, but he couldn't help but smile. After all, Nilo had always been very protective of him. Now, he seemed to be showing that loyalty could also be shared.

“Be careful, or he’ll ask to sleep in your bed too.” Pedri joked, approaching the dog, but without taking him away from you.

Nilo just lay down next to you, as if he already knew who was dominating your heart that afternoon. And you, with a smile, thought that maybe you had won the heart of Pedri's little dog.

Taglist: @meganesanchez @nngkay @p4uul0vr @paucubarsisimp

[e-dubbc11]

Such a Flirt

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader; supporting character Sam Winchester

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ please or I’m telling on you) fingering, oral, p in v protected sex (be safe out there everyone), couple of swear words, love confessions

Word Count: 3.3K-ish

Summary: Dean and Sam ask for your help getting information from a bartender at a local bar. You’re a smooth talker and can get info from anyone but Dean hates having to watch you flirt with handsome men.

A/N: Fair warning, there’s only a little plot with this one. I really just wanted to get to the smexy time. I had the strongest urge to write some smut for this smexy son of a bitch, I don’t know why but I’m just very much in love with all things Jensen Ackles right now(I’ve watched Tracker, My Bloody Valentine, and started watching season 3 of the Boys again plus random episodes of Supernatural) I can’t wait to meet him in October! I hope you like this one!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Dude, why are you grinding your teeth like that?” Asked Sam.

Dean’s eyes were fixated on you as you flirted with the bartender. You were trying to see if he knew anything about a man who was in the bar a couple of days ago.

Later, the man couldn’t explain why he had beaten his girlfriend to death after being seen in the bar with a beautiful woman who was definitely NOT his girlfriend.

“Does she have to flirt so hard with that guy?!” Growled Dean. “He’s not even that good looking!”

Dean angrily took a sip of his beer and continued to watch you like a hawk.

Sam rolled his eyes, pressed his lips together in a straight line and tried to continue talking about the case with Dean but he was more interested in what you were saying to the bartender.

“She’s trying to get information for us, Dean. Relax.” Said Sam.

The boys didn’t always need a third “FBI agent.” Sometimes they just needed help getting information from the opposite sex. Men were a lot freer with their words with you rather than the “feds.”

You mostly hunted on your own but they would call you from time to time when they needed your…”wits,” so to speak. Plus, you liked to watch Dean struggle with his feelings for you and you very much liked him back but it was fun to make him jealous.

**********

Before leaving the bunker, you had asked, “What kinda bar is it?”

“What do you mean what kind? It’s a bar, y/n.” Answered Dean.

“Ok, I realize that, Dean but is it a biker bar, a country western bar, one that doesn’t have a theme? I need to know what kinda clothes to bring. I threw a whole bunch in my car, I’ll bring the one outfit I need, and pick up the rest back here before I head home.” You replied.

Sam was already on his laptop doing research so he did a quick search and found the bar’s website online.

“Looks like it’s quite the nice place, y/n. Reviews say it’s an after work hot spot for bankers, real estate brokers, professionals, etc.” Said Sam.

You replied, “Soooooo a little swanky, but don’t dress like a high end call girl, got it. You guys will fit in perfectly wearing your FED suits.”

You decided to go for the “classy attorney” look but without a blazer. A Kelly green fitted silk blouse, black wide-leg pants that had black studs on the seam, and black ankle boots. Your perfectly chosen outfit, paired with a black structured tote bag seemed like impeccable choices.

Eat your heart out, Dean Winchester.

While they were out eating lunch, you did your hair and makeup. You didn’t do this super girly stuff very often but you liked…feeling pretty. The times that the boys needed you to turn on the charm and bat your long lashes to get information, were really fun for you.

Drawing on your black winged eyeliner after having a little too much coffee proved to be difficult sometimes but you were a professional and could probably do it with your eyes closed if you needed to.

A medium tone matte eyeshadow and a bold lip completed the look while a strobe light like highlighter emphasized the high points of your face.

Satisfied with your look, you watched a little tv before changing clothes. They would be back soon to pick you up for drinks after they talked to the local cops.

While in the bathroom, you heard the door open and Dean called out to you.

“Y/n?! You better be ready; we gotta go!” Said Dean.

You emerged from the bathroom fully dressed with the exception of your shoes.

“Ok, ok keep your shirt on, Winchester. I just need my boots.” You replied.

After slipping into your boots, you picked up your bag and finally had a chance to look up. For once, Dean’s brow wasn’t furrowed and you could see his hypnotizing green eyes much better which caught you off guard.

“What is it? Do I have something on my pants?” You said, gazing down at your pants then turning in a circle with your head over your shoulder, trying to look at your own ass.

Dean was speechless and couldn’t get any words out so Sam answered as he tossed a burger at you, “Nope, all good. Let’s go. You can eat in the car.”

They walked up ahead as you locked the door behind you.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? You were staring at her.” Said Sam.

Dean replied, “She looks too good, Sam.”

“Can you wrestle with your feelings for her another time? She’s supposed to look nice.” Sam said.

Nervously, Dean whispered, “Well she’s distracting! And I don’t have THOSE kinds of feelings for her.”

“Whatever you say, dude.” Replied Sam with raised eyebrows.

You covered your mouth so they wouldn’t see you crack a smile.

While riding in the car, you leaned forward so the boys could hear you better. Making sure he could feel your breath on his ear, you said, “You two can go in first, have a seat, and I’ll make my way in after a few minutes. You can keep an eye on me as I walk up to the bar.”

A sly smirk stretched across your lips as you slinked back into your seat and looked at Dean in the rearview mirror, trying his hardest NOT to appear flustered but failing miserably.

You could have made it easy and told Dean how you felt about him but he deserved to be on the receiving end of the teasing. Women made it easy for him, just falling at his feet which meant he had his pick and he hated every time you teased him.

And now, drinking at the corner of the bar, you could feel him burning a hole in your head with his angry stare. It appeared that Dean couldn’t take just sitting there anymore. Sam tried to grab hold of his jacket but he missed and Dean started to walk over to the bar when the bartender walked away to wait on someone else.

“I’m getting some good stuff, Dean. Get outta here!” You whisper yelled at him without looking and without drawing attention to yourself.

He nonchalantly whisper yelled back at you, “You’re being a little TOO friendly with him, don’t ya think?”

“I’m perfectly capable of weaseling information out of a dumb bartender. Now get outta here before I kick your ass all over this bar!” You growled.

“Need something, friend?” The bartender asked Dean.

A tad flustered, Dean replied with a narrowed expression, “Two more beers, buddy. Thanks.”

You got what you needed from the bartender and after another hour or so, you paid for your drinks and left. Dean and Sam followed you out a handful of minutes later.

“Can we get pizza?” You asked.

Dean was always in a better mood if he was fed properly so as a peace offering, you bought pizza on the way back to the motel. And of course, Dean picked up more beer.

Settling in with your dinner, you told them everything Jeremy, the bartender, told you about what he witnessed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I didn’t know the two of you were on a first name basis.” Said Dean.

You rolled your eyes.

“Will you let me finish, please!?” You asked.

“Dean…let her finish. Come on.” Said Sam.

Dean continued to pace back and forth while you talked.

“…So the woman that he left with, Jeremy had never seen before. And this guy hung on her every word, gazed at her like she hung the moon, she said all the right things. Almost like he was legit under a spell or something.” You finished.

Sam had his laptop open. His fingers swiftly typed words into the search engine and he then flipped the screen around to show you and Dean what he found.

“I think we might be dealing with another siren.” Said Sam, confidently. “Two other women were murdered by husbands or boyfriends after encounters with beautiful women at that bar. Sirens need love and they compel people to kill to show devotion to them.” He turned to Dean. “Remember that one we dealt with before? The time where we were trying to kill each other?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I remember. I try not to though.”

Preoccupied with Dean’s eyes, they had darkened a little to match better with the green shirt you had on, you covered your infatuation by pushing the chair across from you out from under the table.

“Take a load off, tiger. You’re makin’ me nervous with all this pacin’ around you’re doin’.” You said in between bites of pizza.

The Winchester brothers were your second family and you knew them well, especially Dean so you knew when something was really bothering him. And right now, something was definitely bothering him.

Sam’s face was buried in his laptop, it was quiet in the room except for the sounds of fingers moving across a keyboard, and the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Something about you being there was keeping Dean on edge so you finally decided to break the silence.

“Dean? Come on. What is it? You’re being extra grouchy right now, so grouchy that pizza couldn’t fix it. Ever since I walked outta the bathroom earlier, you’ve been short with me.” You said, calmly.

He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and traced the outside of his lips with his thumb and forefinger before narrowing his eyes at you.

You knew that look. The look of an extremely handsome literal green-eyed monster glaring at you from across the table. Dean was close to blowing a gasket.

He pointed at you and in his low gravelly voice said, “I don’t like it when you flirt with other men. There! I said it, ok!? You happy!?”

In one fluid motion, Sam closed his laptop, grabbed the keys to the car and said, “I’m gonna go talk to the cops again. Lemme know when you two work THIS out.”

You started to say, “O-ok, well just be—“

“Yep, I’ll be careful. I know what to look for. I’ll see ya guys later.” Said Sam.

The door closed behind him, the Impala roared to life, and Sam drove off, leaving you and Dean alone in the motel room.

“Well that was weird. Anyway…Dean, I’m just doing what you guys asked me to do! You needed me to get information, so I turned on my charm and I got what we needed just like any other time you’ve needed me for something like this!” You said with a raised voice.

Dean stood up from the table and loosened his tie a little. Unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt, he didn’t take his gaze away from you.

“You don’t have to be THAT good, ya know! They eat it up every single time! Lemme ask you this…did that Jeremy guy ask for your number?”

Seeing Dean this upset made you think that he didn’t just have a little crush on you.

Feeling a little warm, you unbuttoned a couple of buttons on your blouse and stood up also. You were reluctant to answer him but finally said softly, “Yes, he did.”

“HA! I fuckin’ knew it! They always do and did you give it to him?” Asked Dean.

You started to answer before he interrupted you, “Dean…”

“Did you!?” He asked again.

Not wanting to confess your feelings first, you tried to stall.

“No, I didn’t!” You shouted.

The table was in between the two of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, your jawlines tight with anger and frustration, and the sound of your heart beating inside your chest was deafening.

“Oh yeah?! And why should I believe you, y/n?!” Dean growled.

“I’ve never given any of them my number, Dean! Not a single one!” You bellowed.

His expression softened as he asked, “Well…why not?”

After a long day, you couldn’t help but collapse onto the bed. You allowed your legs to give out and sat down on the edge of the mattress before answering him.

“Why do you think, ya big dumb animal?! Because the only guy's number I want in my phone is yours, Dean! And Sam’s but for different reasons. You know what I’m trying to say, stop looking at me like that.” You said, nervously.

He walked around the table, gazed down at you with his beautiful green eyes, they were the color of fresh blades of grass, and leaned over to inch his face closer to yours. The sprinkling of freckles across his nose was so youthful and adorable. You swallowed hard as you felt his breath against your eyelashes.

“And why do you think I get the way that I do when I see you flirt with other guys? You know why, don’t you sweetheart.” He said, melodiously.

Dean’s lips were ghosting over yours. You were silently begging him to just kiss you and kiss you hard. All the tension that had been building over the years was coming to a head right now. His tie dangled down from around his neck, you were dying to just pull him on top of you and find out what he tastes like…all of him.

“Because you want me as much as I want you?” You replied, gently touching his tie.

Still holding his tie, you inched yourself up toward the headboard. Dean followed your lead as you removed his tie and began to unbutton his dress shirt.

“I want you more.” He purred into your ear before his perfect lips crashed onto yours.

Dean covered your mouth with his own, devouring you with every kiss he placed on your lips, neck and jaw. You won the fight to be on top, although you were sure he let you win, and you continued to unbutton his shirt while he grasped clumsily at the buttons on yours.

They were small so he was having a hard time with them until you stepped in.

“I’ll do them, baby.” You whispered as he haphazardly tossed his clothes to the side.

You stood up and let your pants fall to your ankles while you finished unbuttoning your silk shirt. His desire for you was very apparent by the large tent in his boxers that you felt against your core as soon as you straddled him. The bottom of the shirt brushed against his thighs and goosebumps peppered across his skin.

You decided to let him finish undressing you.

Dean’s hands gently pushed your shirt off of your shoulders and all that was left was the black lace bra that was barely containing your breasts that he could not wait to get you out of. The man was a pro at unhooking your bra with one hand. If you didn’t want him so badly, you would have stopped to give him shit for it.

He lightly nipped the skin down the side of your neck, making you gasp when he got to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You felt like you could have come just by him biting down on that sweet spot. The growing ache between your thighs was torture and you desperately wanted him to touch you.

Like he read your mind, his strong hands migrated from your breasts down to your waist. Reaching in between your thighs, Dean teased your entrance with one finger, then slid another inside with ease.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He whispered as a strangled moan escaped your lips.

To suffocate your screams, you bit down on your lower lip as he continued to move his talented fingers, hooking them in just the right spot to make you see stars, and drew circles on your clit to really tease you.

“Dean!” You pleaded, just before you hit your peak and tightly clenched around his fingers.

“You can be loud, baby. These kinds of places are used to noises like that, if ya know what I mean.” He said with a wink and a smirk.

You smiled back, pressed your lips to his, and lightly bit down on his bottom lip before starting to pepper kisses down his chest.

After pulling down his boxers, you took him into your mouth. A deep guttural moan and words of praise fled from Dean’s lips when your tongue circled the underside. That made him draw in a sharp breath as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, that feels good, sweetheart.” He hissed and mumbled something else incoherently.

Crawling up his body, he slipped on a condom and then as you straddled him, you replied, “My mouth isn’t just for flirting, Dean.”

He slid into you with ease, burying himself to the hilt, causing you both to gasp before he cut your moan short with a hard kiss. You circled your hips slowly, allowing him to go deeper inside you, and it sent sharp tingles down your spine.

You pulled him in close as your walls began to tighten around him, clinging to him like your life depended on it with your climax starting to build.

Dean’s body was a warm cradle for yours as his fast abrupt strokes were about to send you over the edge and fast. But he loved to look at you so he pulled away slightly and watched your pleasure surge through you.

As you were riding out one orgasm, Dean managed to pull another one from you as you loudly called out his name like no one else was around which made him feral.

His movements became faster, more brutal, pulling out of you just so he could slam into you again and again as his body went rigid underneath you. Crushing your waist, his arms were wrapped around you so tightly that all of the air escaped your lungs.

His release came hard and fast, followed by a strangled moan while your bodies trembled from overstimulation. Dean’s eyes were wide and unfocused as he tried to catch his breath while you leaned in for a gentle kiss and let your fingers glide through his soft brown hair.

Collapsing on top of him, you smiled against his chest as his fingers tickled the outside of your arm and the only thing you could hear was Dean’s heart beating rapidly against your ear.

Trying to get your breathing under control, you covered yourself with the sheet and finally managed to ask, “So…does this mean you don’t want me to flirt for information anymore?”

Dean kissed the top of your head and replied, “As long as you come home with me, I’ll allow it.”

“ALLOW IT?! You’re not the boss of me, Winchester.” You said, sarcastically.

He licked his lips as you looked up at him through your long dark lashes.

In barely more than a whisper, he said, “Well what if I told you you’re really pretty and that I might be…in love with you?”

“Awww…you’re really pretty too!” You said, jokingly.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Alright, I’m tryin’ to—“

Wrapped up in the sheet, you sat upright, cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his, your tongue slipped into his mouth to tangle with his as a low growl escaped his lips.

“I might be in love with you too.” You whispered against his mouth.

Chasing each other’s smiles, he continued to kiss you until you heard a key in the door. Sam walked in, took one look at the two of you and without missing a beat said, “Oh good, you two worked it out. So I was thinking, I might know who—“

He stopped, looked at the two of you and shouted, “Guys…that’s MY bed!!”

You and Dean started to laugh.

Oops.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @deans-spinster-witch @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[r0uke-k4nten]

FORSAKEN X CHILD READER

What would happen if a child were teleported into a spectre without knowledge to fend for themself? What would the other think when there's a child suddenly involved in these deadly games? How do they even survive with a child that has to be protected?

007n7

- he's the first guy to catch you into the cabin unconscious in his perspective bed, he just stood there at the door, unknowingly of what to do, after a while, someone will come to check on him and then in shock as they see a child.

- ngl He was having a flashback where he had a baby c00lkid on his doorway in the middle of the night.

He's going to be a bit awkward after you wake up. He's not going to stay quite. Of course, he knows a thing or two about communicating with a child in this situation. He's going to ask how you got in here, with the obvious answer of no at all.

- This leads into a dead end, with unknown parents, why are you here, where were you the last time before you were here, all of the questions always end with you not remembering and can't be answered.

- he feels bad for you, awful even, he unknowingly is a bit protective of you because you remind him a bit of his missing son, just a little bit though.

- In rounds, he kinda ordered you to stay close to guest or shedletsky as they can protect you.

- if he ever see you hurt, his fatherly instinct kicking in and began to run at you place, picking you up then immediately teleport away, distance from the killer.

- he will scold you if you accidentally hurt yourself, or body blocking someone as he healed you with a medkit. (Where does the medkit come from?)

- He quietly signs an adoption paper without your knowledge, not that you actually mind, he thought.

- if you were a bit on the older side and on the rebellious phase, there will be a lot of arguing to the point you both don't talk to each other after awhile he will feel bad, but it depends on who's in the wrong, he will apologize to you.... With a take-out food.

Elliot

- see you after 007n7 sat you on the living room, asleep.

- he will look at 007n7 suspiciously, as he not trusting that man at all, especially when he suddenly has a kid in his bedroom. He may or may not lower down his distrust on him after an explanation...  key word: may.

- after you woke up, 007n7 slowly began to ask you a reasonable question, he watched from a distance as he realized that you began to feel overwhelmed. He sighed as he picked up some of his warm pizza, giving it to you.

- Being you, you gobble it in the second, feeling embarrassed because of your hunger. But he just laughed it off as his food is mouthwatering.

- In the round, he often took a look out at you if you were ever hurt and gave you a pizza to bust up your health.

- will feel bad for you if you tried to body block the killer when they targeted him, he immediately gives you a pizza afterwards. 

- If you have long hair, he will brush it off for you.

- good with kids actually, sometimes he helps a few kids from his workplace with fun activities.

- maybe he might have thought that you and his sister might get along.

Guest 1337

- damn he miss his family so much.

- You remind him of his family, his daughter more specifically.

- keep a very distant relationship with you unless it is necessary

- doesn't mind that you keep following him in rounds, as it's a benefit for both of you, you will fix a generator while he looks out for the killer.

-if you take a bit too long or you have a bit of a struggle, he tried to help you pinpoint the cable from where to where.

- will be in shock after your body blocked for someone, he pushed the killer and held you close to him while searching for a medkit or Elliot. He will tend your wound and begin to criticize you for your idiotic move ('then why are you bad at punching?' 'shut up.')

- won't talk to you for a while, not because he's mad at you, he's just frightened after what happened. Please just comfort him that you were fine at the end, he needs it.

-he may not be the closest, but he's there for you if you need to be protected.

Two time

- DON'T GET THEM CLOSE WITH A CHILD

-IT'S EITHER WE JOIN A CULT OR WE WILL BE THE SACRIFICE.

“The spawn would be pleased” they said as you're tied to the sacrificial altar.

c00lkid

- If he were in pre-forsaken, he would be your brother, you were both adopted by 007n7 as he found both of you on his doorstep.

- you both give him a headache and his beloved child at the same time.

-If you were in the forsaken, however... be prepared as you will be the first target he lays his eyes on.

- because in his mind you both are the same age, therefore you should be 'playing' together.

Azure (might be ooc)

- You appeared in his limbo. Leaving him startled as you were asleep behind his 'bed.'

- bro's already dislikes you for this particular reason.

- will get annoyed every time you play with his hat or him in general.

- don't trust you at all at least in the beginning, but after a while he just lets you do whatever you want with him. Draw with him? Sure, you want to play with his tentacles? he doesn't care, have a make over? Aight enough.

- If you do, however, have an interest in botany, he will give you a few advice, just don't ask where they get their knowledge of botany.

John Doe

- Like c00lkid, if it was from pre-forsaken, he would be the best father to you, he will help you do your homework, comfort you if you had a hard time, generally a good father and a good wife for your mom, Jane Doe.

- I have a head canon that he mastered the art of grilled meat that it could battle a god.

-If you were in Forsaken, good luck because he doesn't remember you that much.

-maybe he will slightly remember after you're dead, slightly.

[lilghostiequinni]

Rude

Main Masterlist Charles Masterlist

Pairing: Verstappen!Girlfriend!female reader x Charles Leclerc

Warnings: Fluffy, None

Summary: Don't you just hate when your girlfriend loves your dogs more than you or when they take your spot in bed? Well, Charles does.

Requested: NO / yes

You met Charles through your twin brother when you were about 15 years old.

You didn't like going to your brother's kart races, but at the same time, you did like going to them, because when Max won races, it was like the world was right, nothing bad happened.

You didn't like it when Max lost because it meant something bad had happened.

It was conditioned into you from watching your brother for years that if Max failed, it was best to stay away from your dad for a few days to weeks or until Max won next, but sometimes even that wasn't good enough.

When you met Charles and you seen how his family and how family was supposed to work, you grew close to Charles.

For years, you avoided your feelings because you knew that your brother had become friends with the Monegasque and was close rivals on track.

You were afraid to say anything about how you felt because you were afraid of what your brother might say, who cares about everyone else, all you had in your life for the longest time was your brother.

You didn't want to disappoint him.

It wasn't until your brother literally locked you and Charles in a room within his apartment and refused to let you out that is until you confessed your feelings for each other.

It took all of an hour for the confession to happen and result in kissing, then turning into a full-on make-out until Max opened the door and interrupted but also saw one of his friends sucking face with his little sister.

About a year into your relationship with Charles, he asked you to move in, but you were hesitant because of the puppy you impulsively bought while Max and Charles were away for a race weekend.

Well, it was like three puppies, they were siblings, and the last three, you couldn't just leave them there.

They were Doberman, German Shepherd, and Husky mixes, and they were so cute.

When you told Max of your three little darlings, he laughed at you, then realized you weren't joking then he started laughing again, thinking of the reaction Charles would have.

Which, when you told him wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, but it could've been better.

But even after learning of your hellions, as Max started to call them after knowing them for an hour, Charles still insisted on moving in together.

Every time that Charles left for a race and you didn't go with him, the dogs took over his spot on the bed, laying with you as you slept, making sure that nothing happened to you.

When Charles had come home, for the first two nights he would have to fight off the dogs just to sleep.

So when he bought Leo, he thought that he would gain an ally against the other three, even if the two were still outnumbered, but no, that didn't happen.

The other three like to gain up on him, and Leo just joined in on the fun. It was not what Leo would just follow them he would actually help them.

Charles just gave up after a few months of trying to teach Leo to not help the other three dogs but he wasn't used to trying to, so he just gave up trying and let it happen most days.

Playing with the dogs most other times, it was actually really sweet what Charles did, playing with the hellions that you adopted without his knowledge, but even if he complains, he loves every minute of it because he's with you during them all.

A/N: Second in the 300 Follower Cele Driver poll

Tags: @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @ellen3101 @barcelonaloverf1life @charli123456789 @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @diaryofarandomkid @hadids-world

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[mrsclrakey]

Big fan of your writing. Could you pls do one where reader is showing too much PDA with Clarkey and it becomes a bit angsty as he confronts you with it, but it all comes together in the end.

Tysm for the request I hope u like it I tryed my best because I have never wrote something like this before!!!!

STORY NAME-👐Too much👐

George had never been the best with public affection. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you—he did, more than anything—but he’d always preferred the little things. The quiet hand squeezes under the table, the lingering glances across a room, the way you always seemed to reach for him without thinking.

But lately, it felt… different.

Like now, at this party, with too many eyes watching as you pressed into his side, laughing a little too loudly at something he’d said. Your hand slid down his chest, lingering longer than usual. And when you reached up to kiss his cheek, George stiffened.

You felt it immediately.

Still, you pretended not to notice, curling your fingers around his wrist. “Come dance with me,” you grinned.

He hesitated, then carefully pulled his arm from your grasp. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

That should’ve been it. But the way his voice was clipped, the way his jaw tightened—it wasn’t just about not wanting to dance.

Something was wrong.

You tried to shake it off, but as the night dragged on, George grew quieter. And when you reached for his hand again, he gently—almost too gently—moved it away.

By the time you got home, the silence between you felt unbearable.

You barely stepped inside before turning to him. “Alright, what’s going on?”

George exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Do you even realize how much you’ve been all over me lately?”

The words stung.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He sighed, leaning against the counter. “I just… It’s a lot, okay? The constant touching, the PDA—it’s not me.”

Your stomach twisted. “So what, I embarrass you?”

His head snapped up. “No, that’s not—”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Then what is it, George? Because all I’ve been doing is showing that I love you.”

He ran a hand over his face. “And I love you too. But I don’t need to prove it to everyone in a room.”

The words came out sharper than intended, and the second they left his mouth, regret flickered across his face. But it was too late.

Your shoulders dropped. “Right. Got it.”

You turned away, but he was already reaching for you, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not pulling, just holding.

“Wait,” he said, softer now. “That came out wrong.”

You didn’t turn, but you didn’t move away either.

He exhaled, stepping closer. “I love you, alright? More than I know what to do with sometimes. I just… I want us to be for us—not for everyone watching.”

Your chest ached. You weren’t even sure if it was from hurt or from how much you got it—how much you got him.

After a beat, you sighed, turning back to face him. “I just like showing you off, y’know?”

George huffed a small laugh, tugging you into his chest. “You can do that in ways that won’t make me feel like I’m suffocating.”

You nuzzled into his hoodie. “Like what?”

He smirked, tilting your chin up. “Like this.”

And then, without hesitation, he kissed you—slow, deep, just yours.

Not for anyone else.

Just for you.

[pukefactory]

✦•〰〰• DOG DAY AFTERNOON •〰〰•✦

·ᴥ· Summary: Pebble X Reader Headcannons (PLATONIC)

·ᴥ· Character(s): Pebble Dancifer Jr. (Dandy’s World)

·ᴥ· Genre: Headcannons, SFW

·ᴥ· Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

·ᴥ· Image Credits: @lavendergalactic

𐂯 Pebble follows you everywhere. The moment you shift even slightly, he’s already trailing behind, his big, unblinking googly eyes locked onto you with unsettling precision. It doesn’t matter how fast you move or how quietly you try to slip away—somehow, some way, Pebble is always there. You gave up questioning how a literal rock moves so quickly long ago. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

𐂯 Though he cannot speak, his silent stares convey more than words ever could. Take the last slice of pizza without offering to share, and an eerie pressure settles over you. You glance up—and there he is, motionless, watching. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He simply sits, unyielding, his gaze drilling into your soul until the weight of your choices becomes unbearable. It’s a special kind of judgment, one that makes you reconsider everything.

𐂯 When you’re upset, Pebble never tries to “fix” things or overwhelm you with affection. Instead, he simply exists beside you, unmoving, his presence grounding in a way you can’t quite explain. He doesn’t nuzzle into your side like a normal pet might—he just sits, a silent sentinel, sharing the moment with you. At first, it’s unsettling, but over time, his quiet companionship becomes oddly comforting. It’s nice knowing you’re not alone.

𐂯 Despite his rocky exterior, Pebble has a surprising weakness: treats. The moment he spots one in your hands, his entire demeanor shifts. He sits upright, his tiny form practically trembling with anticipation. He doesn’t bark or whine, but there’s an undeniable energy to him, as if he’s vibrating with sheer excitement. You suspect the other Toons have spoiled him—he never seems to expect just one. If anything, he looks personally offended when you try to limit his intake.

𐂯 Challenge him to a staring contest, and you will lose. Instantly. The first few seconds feel normal enough, but then the existential dread creeps in. His wide, unblinking eyes bore into you with unwavering intensity, an empty gaze that makes you wonder if he’s peering into the very depths of your soul. You blink first—of course you do. And yet, even after your inevitable defeat, he keeps staring, as if victorious.

𐂯 Pebble may be small, but his presence is anything but weak. If someone annoys or upsets you, he plants himself between you and them, letting out the deepest, most gravelly growl you’ve ever heard. It’s a sound that shouldn’t be possible for something without vocal cords, yet there it is—low, rumbling, and utterly unnerving. Most Toons take the hint and back off immediately. Those who don’t soon realize that Pebble never forgets. Ever.

𐂯 Since he’s constantly by Dandy’s side, Pebble has taken on the unofficial role of messenger. You’ve received more than a few notes and cryptic sketches, always delivered with the same eerie routine: Pebble stares at you, unmoving, until you take the message from his possession. Sometimes, the notes make sense—quick updates, reminders, the occasional doodle from Dandy. Other times, they are stranger. Symbols you don’t recognize. Sketches of places you’ve never seen. You’re never quite sure if Dandy actually sent them or if Pebble decided to deliver something on his own.

𐂯 Cuddling with Pebble is an experience. He insists on it from time to time, usually after a long day or when he senses you need comfort. The logistics, however, are tricky. He’s made of stone—sharp edges, solid weight, not exactly the most comfortable companion. And yet, when he curls up against you, he’s oddly warm, as if he’s absorbed the day’s heat and is now radiating it back in a way that feels almost soothing. Despite logic telling you otherwise, it’s… nice.

𐂯 Pebble is intensely protective, sometimes to an extreme degree. If you so much as stumble, he becomes hyper-alert for the rest of the day, suspiciously eyeing every object in your vicinity. He growls at inanimate things as if they personally wronged you. A loose floorboard? Enemy. A misplaced chair? Absolute menace. A rock in the road? Betrayer of his own kind. You appreciate the concern, but it’s hard not to laugh when he aggressively guards you from a particularly offensive-looking table leg.

𐂯 Sometimes, the strangest thing about Pebble isn’t his behavior—it’s where you find him. You go to bed with him resting in the corner of your room, only to wake up with him perched at the foot of your bed. Or somehow sitting atop a high shelf. Or, in the most unsettling cases, locked inside a cabinet you are absolutely certain you never put him in. You’ve stopped questioning it. Pebble is just Pebble.