#yeah don’t care about that. when’s the NEXT thing. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misaerabl · 1 day ago

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Down, Girl

CONTENT: wc…9.7k ✦ toxic reader, loser ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), reader riding ellies face, fingering (both receiving), you eat ellie out in the bathroom, reader is a freak, more commanding, possessive, and is a bitch to everyone, uh you didn’t let her cum, reader guilt tripping ellie. SUMMARY: Ellie has always been yours—pathetic, desperate, following you around like a stray dog hoping for scraps. She worships you, does whatever you say, lets you push her around because she thinks maybe one day, you’ll love her back. You just like the attention. But then something shifts. Ellie starts pulling away, making friends that aren’t you, not always answering when you call. She’s still there, still yours, but she’s hesitating. You can’t have that. So you remind her—she belongs to you.

February 8, Afternoon.

You’re used to having Ellie right where you want her.

It’s almost funny, how easy it is. You press a little, and she bends. You pull, and she follows. Always so eager, always so desperate. It’s adorable, really. The way she watches you like you’re something holy. Like she’s lucky just to be near you.

You lean against her locker, waiting. The hallway is loud, but you don’t hear any of it. You’re too focused on the fact that she’s late. She’s never late.

She shows up two minutes later, looking like she rushed over. “Hey,” she breathes, pushing her hair back, shifting under your gaze.

You tilt your head. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Ellie scratches the back of her neck. “Yeah, I—uh, I had to finish something.”

Your eyes flick over her, taking in the way she won’t quite meet your gaze. She looks guilty. She should.

You step closer, your voice honeyed but sharp. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

Her head snaps up, wide-eyed. “No! No, I just—”

You hum, watching her squirm. Cute. “Good.”

You don’t have to say anything else. Ellie falls in step with you like always. Like she doesn’t even realize you just put a leash back around her neck.

You met Ellie Williams when you were thirteen.

Back then, she was just some scrawny, awkward kid with too many freckles and a closet full of ugly hoodies. The kind of girl who looked like she belonged in the background of a school photo, forgotten as soon as the camera flashed.

You were different. You had a presence—one that people noticed. And Ellie? She noticed you the most.

You don’t remember the exact moment she started following you around. It just happened. One day, she was a classmate. The next, she was yours.

It started small. She’d let you copy her homework, save you a seat at lunch, carry your things without you asking. She never expected anything in return. She just wanted to be close to you.

You liked that.

So you let her in, just enough to keep her hooked. Just enough to make her think she had a chance.

Now, years later, nothing has changed.

Ellie still follows you like a lost dog, still waits for your texts, still lights up when you so much as look at her. You let her sleep in your bed sometimes—when you’re feeling generous. You let her drive you places, take care of you when you’re drunk, clean up your messes.

She doesn’t complain. She never does.

But lately, something feels… off.

She hesitates before answering your texts. She doesn’t wait for you after class like she used to. You caught her sitting with some new people at lunch last week. When you asked about it, she stammered out some excuse, but it didn’t matter. You already knew—she was getting comfortable somewhere else.

You can’t have that.

So now, as you walk beside her, your fingers brush over hers—light, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch.

“Missed you,” you murmur, voice sweet. “You’ve been distant.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I haven’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You grip her wrist, stopping her in the middle of the hallway. She looks down at you, startled.

You smile, tilting your head. “Then don’t.”

She nods. Just like that, the hesitation is gone. Just like that, she’s yours again.

Good girl.

Ellie’s house is small, lived-in, the kind of place that smells like old books, laundry detergent, and whatever air freshener her aunt picked up from the store that week. It’s familiar. You’ve been here more times than you can count, curled up on her bed, stealing her hoodies, making yourself at home like you own the place.

You do own it—at least, the parts that matter.

Ellie sits on the floor, back against the couch, guitar balanced on her thigh. Her fingers move over the strings absentmindedly, plucking a tune you don’t recognize. Her head is bowed, auburn hair falling over her face. She looks calm, focused. Content.

She should be looking at you.

You shift slightly, adjusting the little boy in your lap. Luke is Ellie’s half-brother, a quiet kid who took to you the way most people do—easily, naturally, like it’s impossible not to. Right now, he’s holding onto your wrist with his small hands, playing with the bracelets on it as he leans against you.

You hum, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Ellie,” you say, dragging out her name just a little, letting it settle in the air.

Her fingers falter against the strings. She looks up, eyes flicking to yours immediately, like muscle memory.

“Play something I know,” you say, voice soft. Sweet.

Ellie nods without question, shifting the guitar, adjusting her grip. She starts playing again, and this time, the song is familiar—one she knows you like, one she’s played for you before, late at night when it was just the two of you.

You smile, satisfied.

Luke tugs on your sleeve. “Sing,” he says, tilting his head up at you.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “I don’t sing, baby.”

He pouts. “Ellie says you do.”

Your gaze snaps to her. She freezes, caught.

You raise a brow, smirking. “You been talking about me, Williams?”

Ellie clears her throat, looking away, ears tinged pink. “Just—just mentioned it.”

Cute.

You lean back against the couch, letting Luke curl against you, your gaze still on Ellie. She keeps playing, but you can tell she’s distracted now, too aware of your eyes on her.

Good.

She was starting to forget her place. But that’s alright—you’ll just have to remind her.

Ellie’s room smells like her. A mix of faintly sweet vanilla and something sharp, like the lemon-scented cleaning spray her mom always insists on using. Her bed is unmade, as usual, a pile of mismatched blankets and clothes scattered around the floor. The space is small, but it’s hers. Her little kingdom.

And right now, it’s just the two of you—her sitting at the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers, her knees drawn up to her chest. You sit across from her, lounging in the chair by her desk, legs stretched out, letting your fingers lightly tap the rhythm of a song you’ve been listening to on repeat.

You watch her. You always watch her.

Her hands keep moving, an unconscious twitch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tracing circles on her knee. She looks away from you, a little too quickly, as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze.

You raise an eyebrow. Nervous again, huh?

It’s cute.

"What's going on?" you ask, leaning forward slightly, letting your voice fall soft but sharp, like a thread pulling her closer to you.

Ellie shifts her weight, finally looking up at you, her brown eyes wide. Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates, just long enough to make it obvious. You know she’s working up the nerve. You know she’s always working up the nerve when it comes to you.

"Just…thinking," she says, voice quiet, almost sheepish.

You can’t help the smirk that curls on your lips. “Thinking? About what, Ellie?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites her lip and continues to fidget, her thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles in that rhythmic, nervous way you’ve come to recognize. It’s a habit, a tell. One of many.

You wait, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to disappoint you," she says suddenly, the words spilling out before she can stop them.

Your breath catches in your chest, but you don’t let her see it. Instead, you stand up slowly, taking a few steps toward her, watching the way her posture shifts, like she’s waiting for something.

You kneel in front of her, just close enough that she has to meet your eyes. You don’t speak at first. Instead, you reach out and gently touch her hands, making her stop fidgeting.

Her fingers freeze, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening. She still won’t look at you.

“Disappoint me?” you repeat softly, voice low and teasing. You let the words linger, making her feel the weight of them. "You know I don't like when you do that."

Her eyes dart up to meet yours, and for a moment, you see the tiniest flicker of fear in them—like she’s scared of what you might do if she does disappoint you.

You smile, that same sweet, dangerous smile. "You won’t disappoint me, Ellie. You can’t."

Her breath hitches, and for a second, you think she might say something else—something more. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she just lets you pull her hands into yours, squeezing them gently, her heart racing beneath her chest. She’s waiting for you to speak again, to tell her what she needs to do next.

You whisper, “Good girl.”

Her shoulders finally relax, just a little, but her gaze stays locked on yours, like she’s trying to read your mind.

You stand, dragging her with you, pulling her close enough so she can feel the heat of your body against hers. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in just slightly, letting your lips brush against her temple.

“You’re mine, Ellie,” you murmur, low and quiet, just for her. “Always have been.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You both know the truth.

You take a step back, letting her breathe, but you don’t go far. She follows your every movement with her eyes, like she’s afraid to miss something.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add, just to remind her.

The relief in her eyes is unmistakable. She’s not sure what you want from her, but she knows she’ll give it.

And that’s exactly how you like it.

Ellie is still looking at you like that—like you hung the damn moon, like she’ll do anything to keep you happy, like she wants to be owned.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t fight it. She never has.

You’re still close, her hands limp in yours, like she’s waiting for you to decide what happens next. Always waiting on you.

And maybe—maybe you should remind her why.

You hum softly, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

Ellie swallows, her jaw clenching slightly. She looks down, and you know—you know—she’s trying to gather herself, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words.

She never gets the chance.

You lift a hand to her chin, gently tilting her face back up to you. “Ellie.”

Your voice is softer now, coaxing.

She meets your eyes, and for a second, she’s just staring—like she’s trying to memorize you, trying to understand what you want from her.

You let the moment stretch, let the silence settle heavy between you, before you speak again.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

It’s not really a question. You both know the answer.

Ellie’s breath shudders, and she nods.

You tighten your grip on her chin, just slightly. “Words.”

She exhales shakily. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m yours.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips.

Good girl.

You don’t give her time to think—you move before she can, leaning in, closing the space between you. You kiss her like she belongs to you, like you need her to understand it.

And fuck—Ellie melts.

She lets out the smallest noise against your lips, her hands gripping at your waist, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away too soon. You don’t. You press in closer, one hand slipping into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

She’s so easy for you. So desperate.

You deepen the kiss, swallowing the tiny gasps she makes, reveling in the way she’s already pliant, already giving you everything you want without hesitation.

When you finally pull away, Ellie is breathless, flushed, her lips red and swollen. Her eyes stay locked on yours, wide and dazed, like she still hasn’t caught up to what just happened.

You grin, dragging your thumb over her bottom lip. “Still thinking?”

Ellie swallows hard. “Not really.”

You laugh softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek, then to her jaw, just because you can. Because she lets you.

Because she’s yours.

February 9th, Evening.

The party is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the hum of conversations, the clinking of drinks, the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen. The air smells like cheap beer and something vaguely sweet—someone must’ve brought those shitty fruit-flavored vape pens everyone’s been obsessed with.

You barely notice any of it.

Abby fucking Anderson is pressed against you, arms wrapped lazily around your waist, her lips brushing against your neck every now and then. She’s warm, solid—her grip firm, like she knows she can have you if she wants. And maybe she can.

You let her hold you. Let her lean in close as you talk to—Sierra? Sidney? Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is. The host, too busy with the party to care that Abby’s hands are sliding lower, her fingers digging into your hips.

You smirk, amused.

Abby’s been flirting with you all night, making it obvious, shameless. She’s charming, in a way that comes easy—cocky but not overbearing, confident in the way that only someone who’s used to winning can be. The way she looks at you makes it clear she knows she could have you. That if she tried a little harder, pushed just a little more—

And then you see her.

Ellie.

Tucked away in the corner, half-hidden behind the couch, talking to some girl you don’t recognize.

Fidgeting.

Nervous.

Almost… blushing?

Your stomach tightens.

She doesn’t see you watching her, too focused on whatever the girl is saying, nodding along, lips twitching into an awkward little smile.

And suddenly, Abby’s touch doesn’t feel as interesting anymore.

Your jaw clenches, fingers curling slightly at your sides.

Ellie looks—fuck, she looks comfortable. Like she’s not thinking about you. Like she’s not waiting for you to notice her. Like she’s—

No.

You pull away from Abby, ignoring the way she raises an eyebrow at you. Your drink is still in your hand, but you barely register it, your focus narrowing in on Ellie, on the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot, playing with the rings on her fingers, nodding along to whatever the girl is saying.

Like you aren’t even here.

Like she’s forgetting who she belongs to.

That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

“I’ll be back,” you murmur, already taking a step away.

Abby scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Where are you even—”

You don’t let her finish. “Relax, Anderson,” you say, turning to glance at her over your shoulder. “Go find someone else to grope.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t stop you. She knows better than to push when you’ve already lost interest.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way to Ellie, purposeful, sharp. The girl she’s talking to—Dina, apparently—is still speaking, something animated, something that has Ellie nodding, shifting from foot to foot like she’s actually engaged in the conversation.

How cute.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Oh, there you are,” you drawl, stepping into their space without so much as a second thought. You barely glance at Dina, eyes locked on Ellie. “Didn’t realize you wandered off. Got bored of waiting for me, baby?”

Ellie stiffens, her hand twitching at her side. “I—”

“She doesn’t have to wait for you.”

Dina cuts in, arms crossed, glaring up at you like she actually thinks she has a say in this. You raise an eyebrow, finally sparing her a proper look.

Excuse me?

Ellie shifts beside her, awkward, rubbing the back of her neck.

Dina scoffs. “Do you just—let her talk to you like that?” She turns to Ellie fully, disbelief written all over her face. “Like, seriously? You just let her push you around?”

You tilt your head, watching Ellie, waiting.

She knows what to do.

And of course—your good girl never disappoints.

Ellie scratches her cheek, glancing between the two of you, and then—she shrugs. “It’s not—” She hesitates. “It’s not really like that.”

Dina’s expression darkens, her frown deepening. “It kinda is like that, Ellie.”

Your patience thins.

Your lips curl into something amused, something condescending, as you step just a little closer, tilting your head at Dina like she’s a fucking pest.

“Who even is this skank?”

Ellie flinches. Dina’s expression twists.

You smile.

Ellie clears her throat, glancing at Dina apologetically before mumbling, “Uh—this is Dina. She’s a—uh, she’s a scholar.”

You barely blink. “Cool.” You turn back to Ellie, gaze dark. “We need to talk.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I—”

You grab her wrist, firm, but not rough. Not yet. “Now.”

Ellie hesitates for a moment, but then—then she nods, letting you pull her along without protest.

Good girl.

You don’t even look back at Dina as you lead Ellie down the hall, pushing open the first unlocked door you find—a bathroom, small and dimly lit.

Perfect.

You shove Ellie inside, stepping in after her, closing the door with a sharp click.

She shifts on her feet, rubbing her arm, looking at you like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Smart girl.

You cross your arms, gaze hard. “What the fuck was that?”

Ellie shifts under your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, avoiding eye contact like she’s some fucking schoolgirl getting scolded.

You step closer.

She tenses.

“Since when do you wander off?” you ask, voice sharp. It’s not loud—doesn’t need to be—but it’s firm, edged with something that makes Ellie shrink a little, pressing her back against the sink.

She swallows. “I—I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“You just what?”

She flinches at the bite in your tone.

Your head tilts, arms crossed, waiting.

Ellie exhales, rubbing at her jaw. “I had to use the bathroom,” she mumbles. “And then—uh—Dina was outside, and we just… started talking.”

Your jaw clenches.

She’s never done this before. Never just drifted away from you. Usually, at these parties, she stays put—sits in the corner, waits, watches, like a good girl. Until you decide you’re done with everyone else. Until you tell her it’s time to go.

But this?

This won’t do.

You scoff. “And what, you forgot about me?”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No! I—I didn’t forget, I was just—”

You take another step, crowding her against the sink.

She shuts up immediately.

Good.

Your fingers lift to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at you. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parting slightly, breath shaky.

You hum, fingers tracing along her jaw, light, teasing. “You know better, don’t you, baby?”

She nods quickly, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Your grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“Say it,” you murmur.

Ellie swallows, cheeks flushed. “I—I know better.”

You smile. “That’s my good girl.”

But she still needs to learn.

Ellie barely has time to react before you push her back, hands firm on her hips, guiding her onto the edge of the sink. Her breath stutters, hands gripping the porcelain as she looks at you—wide-eyed, confused.

“W-What—”

You drop to your knees in front of her.

Ellie freezes.

Her fingers twitch against the sink, chest rising and falling a little too fast, a little too shallow. She swallows hard, staring down at you like she can’t quite process what’s happening.

You tilt your head, running your hands up her thighs, slow, teasing. “You need to learn, don’t you, baby?”

Ellie nods automatically, like it’s instinct.

You smirk. “Then let me teach you.”

Your hands find the edge of her pants, you tug it slightly

“Take it Off.”

She hesitates, eyes flickering between yours, searching—maybe for reassurance, maybe for a way out. As if she doesn’t already know there isn’t one. As if she doesn’t already belong to you.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Your gaze stays firm, unwavering, expectant.

Ellie exhales sharply, hands hovering at the waistband of her jeans, fingers gripping the fabric like she’s still weighing her options. But you both know there’s only one.

Slowly, she complies.

She was wearing some black and grey boxers, you smile as you watch her. “Those come off too, Ellie.”

Ellie's face burns as she looks down at you, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her boxers. She hesitates for a moment, before pulling them down her legs and stepping out of them.

Her breath comes in short, nervous bursts as she watches you, wondering what you'll do next. Her thighs are clenched together, as if trying to hide herself, though she knows it's pointless.

“Legs open, baby”

"Mhm," Ellie moans softly as she spreads her legs wider, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. Her cheeks are stained red, eyes watching you carefully. She's fully exposed now - her bare pussy on display, wetness already gathering at her entrance.

You lean in close, breath ghosting over her skin, With one hand, you gather your hair, twisting it up into a makeshift ponytail. Then, without a word, you reach for Ellie’s wrist, guiding her trembling fingers to take over.

Her breath catches.

She doesn’t need you to say it. She knows exactly what you want.

And she obeys.

Ellie's fingers curl around the base of your ponytail, her grip tentative at first, before tightening as she becomes more confident. She pulls your head forward, guiding your face towards her dripping wet pussy. "Oh god," she whispers, her voice shaking.

You bury your face between Ellie's thighs, your tongue diving straight into her slick folds. She cries out, fingers tightening in your hair as she rocks her hips forward, seeking more contact. Your tongue laps at her clit, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it into your mouth.

Ellie's moans grow louder as you expertly work her clit, her hips rolling desperately against your face. Wetness coats your chin as her juices flow freely. One hand grips your hair tighter, while the other covers her mouth to muffle her increasingly shameless noises.

You slip a finger inside her, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes her see stars. Ellie's legs shake as she grinds down onto your hand and mouth, chasing her release. She bites down hard on her lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure builds and builds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..." her words come out as whispers between gasps, her hips moving in small, desperate circles against your face. She can feel her orgasm approaching, her body tensing. Her legs threaten to give out completely as you ravage her. "I'm gonna…”

But then—just as she starts to tremble—you pull away.

Ellie barely has time to react before you wipe the liquid from your mouth with the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that makes her breath hitch. Her hand still lingers in your hair until you slap it away, standing back up like nothing happened.

She just looks at you. Panting. Pleading.

Why the fuck did you stop?

The question is written all over her face—eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted, body still tense, waiting.

You just smile, tilting your head as you run a teasing finger along her flushed cheek.

“Maybe next time,” you murmur, voice dripping with amusement. Then, leaning in just enough for her to feel your breath against her ear—

“When you didn’t piss me off.”

Ellie swallows hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Let her stay like that. Let her ache for it.

February 13, Morning

The café is warm, filled with the quiet hum of conversation, the clinking of cups against saucers, the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your laptop’s keyboard. Outside, the sky is overcast, a dull gray that matches your mood.

You sip your coffee, glancing at the time. Ellie’s late.

She always is.

But eventually, the door chimes, and there she is—messy auburn hair tucked under a beanie, hands stuffed in her pockets, hoodie slightly oversized on her frame. She spots you, and something flickers in her expression, something unreadable, before she makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says, dropping into the seat across from you, rubbing her palms together like she’s cold.

“Hey,” you echo, closing your laptop. She smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne, like she just came from somewhere she doesn’t want you asking about. But you don’t press—yet.

Things feel normal. Like you didn’t have your lips on her five days ago. Like you didn’t have her trembling for you in some grimy bathroom four days ago.

You talk about nothing for a while, easy, effortless. Then, casually, you ask—

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?”

Ellie freezes mid-sip, eyes darting up to yours like she just got caught in a lie she hadn’t even told yet.

You laugh, light, amused. “What? Did you forget?”

She swallows, scratches the back of her neck. “Uh. No. I mean, kinda. I just—”

Your amusement fades. “Spit it out, Ellie.”

She shifts in her seat. “Dina and some of the guys invited me to hang.”

Silence.

You blink, tilting your head. “And you agreed?”

Ellie exhales, looking away. “I figured you’d be on a date or something.”

You stare at her.

A date.

The sheer audacity makes your jaw clench, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. Since when have you ever done that? Since when have you ever let some guy take you out on Valentine’s instead of spending time with her?

Ellie finally looks back at you, realization dawning in her eyes as she sees the irritation brewing in yours.

“Are you serious?” you ask, voice calm, even, but sharp.

Ellie doesn’t answer. Because she already knows.

Ellie, ever the nervous wreck, tries to salvage it.

“I mean, I—I’ll still come over,” she says quickly. “After. We can hang in the evening.”

You just stare at her.

She’s squirming in her seat, fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting between you and the scratched-up wooden table like she’s waiting for your verdict. Like she knows she fucked up and is just hoping you won’t punish her for it.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. Then you scoff, shaking your head. “Wow. Lucky me.”

Ellie flinches, the tips of her ears going red. She doesn’t say anything. Of course she doesn’t.

Because she knows—knows—that whatever you say, she’ll do it. You’re already in her head, buried under her skin, wrapped around her ribs like something vital, something she can’t scrape out no matter how hard she tries.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll let this slide.

Your phone is already in your hand before Ellie can say anything else. You don’t even hesitate. If she’s spending time with other people, then so are you.

You scroll through your messages until you find her name.

Abby Anderson.

She replies within minutes. A smug, easy response

Abby : "Thought you weren’t interested."

You smirk.

You : "Changed my mind."

Ellie shifts in her seat, oblivious, still trying to figure out how much trouble she’s in.

Who the fuck does she think she is?

February 14, Valentines

You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly as you smooth out the fabric of your dress. It hugs your body in all the right ways, accentuating everything that Abby will no doubt appreciate.

Abby wasn’t a bad choice. Smart, jacked, and disgustingly wealthy. You knew this date wouldn’t disappoint. She wouldn’t disappoint.

But as you swipe a final coat of lipstick on, as you spritz perfume over your collarbone, as you slide on your heels—your mind isn’t on Abby at all.

It’s on Ellie.

On the fact that she texted you an hour ago— On my way. —like she wanted you to acknowledge it. Like she expected you to care.

You didn’t even respond. Just left her on read.

Because you wanted her anxious. Wanted her restless the whole day. Wanted her checking her phone every five minutes, heart pounding every time the screen lit up, only to be met with silence. You wanted her thinking about you.

But now, as you grab your bag and slip your phone inside, something bitter creeps into your chest.

She’s out there. With them.

Laughing at something Dina says. Maybe fidgeting, maybe stammering, maybe blushing.

You inhale sharply, roll your shoulders back, shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight will be perfect.

Abby will make sure of it.

…But will you?

The restaurant Abby picked was perfect—fancy but not showy. Dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, a bottle of wine already chilling at the table before you even sat down. She had everything planned, down to the smallest details.

She picked you up in an expensive car, a sleek black Audi with leather seats that smelled brand new. The kind of car you knew she could replace in a heartbeat without a second thought. She even stepped out to open the door for you, the perfect gentleman.

You posted pictures on your story—subtle flexes. The perfectly plated steak, the candlelit ambiance, the empty wine glasses. But most of them were of you—Abby had taken them, of course. She had an eye for it. The angle just right, your features highlighted in the soft golden light.

And Abby… Abby was undeniably perfect.

She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Knew how to touch you in ways that made your skin warm and your heart beat just a little faster. Her lips brushed against your neck at just the right moment, her fingers grazing your knee under the table in just the right way.

Nothing could ruin this.

Nothing.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But when Abby excused herself—standing with that easy confidence, telling you she’d be right back, that she had another present for you—you pulled out your phone. Just to check. Just to see.

And there it was.

A story.

Ellie.

Drinking.

With Dina.

Some ginger-haired bitch sitting on her lap.

Your grip on your phone tightens.

Your jaw clenches.

Everything else—the restaurant, the wine, the warmth of Abby’s touch—fades into the background.

Ellie doesn’t drink. Not unless she’s nervous, or desperate, or being stupid.

And that girl—who the fuck is she? What the fuck is she doing in Ellie’s lap?

Abby’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“Miss me?” she teases, placing a small, elegantly wrapped box on the table.

You glance up at her, then back at your phone.

Your mood has already shifted.

And now, you need a drink.

Abby’s hands were firm on your waist, her grip possessive in a way that most girls would melt under. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, her confidence unwavering—like she knew exactly how this was going to go. Like she was sure you were going to let her in.

Your arms were draped over her broad shoulders, fingers lazily playing with the soft strands of her hair as you deepened the kiss. The night had been perfect. She had been perfect. A bouquet of flowers so big it barely fit in your arms, a new pair of designer heels that she had practically forced you to accept, and an expensive necklace that still sat around your throat, cool against your flushed skin.

Abby made it easy. She never made you wait, never made you feel like you had to chase her, never made you question your place.

So why the fuck were you thinking about Ellie?

Her stupid nervous fidgeting. The way her knee bounced when she was anxious. The way her voice cracked sometimes when she tried to talk back. The way she looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The way she had someone else on her lap.

Your nails dug into Abby’s shoulders, and she let out a small, amused hum against your lips, mistaking your sudden aggression for passion.

“You’re on me tonight, huh?” she teased, smirking as she pulled back slightly, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

You should be focused on this. On her. On the way she looked at you like she knew she could have you.

But instead, your phone buzzed.

And you—like a fucking idiot—glanced at the screen over Abby’s shoulder.

Ellie.

“I’m outside. Let me in.”

Your breath hitched.

Abby noticed.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, lips ghosting over hers, but suddenly the air had changed. The control had slipped for just a moment.

And now, you had a choice to make.

You shifted in Abby’s lap, her hands gripping your waist instinctively, like she didn’t want you to move. Her lips were hot against your neck, trailing down, hands sliding over your thighs, her touch deliberate.

Then your phone buzzed again.

You glanced at it, saw the name on the screen, and immediately pushed yourself off Abby, standing up like nothing had happened. She looked up at you, brows furrowed.

"You good?" she asked, voice thick with something unspoken.

"Yeah," you said, brushing your hair back, fixing the straps of your dress like she hadn’t just had her hands all over you. "That was my mom."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something skeptical. "Your mom?"

Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped out of Abby’s car, your arms full of gifts—flowers, designer shoes, jewelry, all things that screamed that you were wanted. Abby leaned against the doorframe of her car, arms crossed over her broad chest, watching you with an expression that teetered between amusement and frustration.

"You sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs?" she asked, her voice smooth, calculated. She knew what she was doing, giving you one last chance to let her in.

You smiled, soft but firm. "I’ll text you."

She held your gaze for a moment longer, like she was trying to see if you were bullshitting her, but ultimately, she nodded. "Alright," she murmured. One last time, she stepped forward, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your lips—slow, deliberate. Like a silent reminder that she had been here first tonight.

You let her, even smiled against her lips, before pulling away and wiping the smudged lipstick from her face.

"Goodnight, Abby," you said, voice sweet, final.

You turned on your heel, the weight of her gaze burning into your back as you made your way into the building, clutching the expensive gifts she had given you like they meant something.

But by the time you reached your door, all of it—the necklace, the shoes, the flowers—felt heavy. Unimportant.

Because Ellie was here.

Waiting.

Just like she always did.

You saw her tuck her phone away, her gaze flickering over the gifts in your arms—the bouquet, the neatly wrapped designer bags, the weight of the night still lingering on your skin.

Then, you watched as it clicked.

Ellie’s jaw tightened just slightly. "You were on a date."

It wasn’t a question.

You just hummed, shifting the weight in your arms. She stepped forward, reaching out. "Here, let me take those."

You didn’t argue, handing her the heavy bouquet first. When you leaned in to pass it to her, your perfume mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne clinging to your skin. Ellie inhaled instinctively.

And there it was.

Familiar, but not yours.

She knew that scent.

Abigail Anderson.

You ignored the way her fingers twitched when she took the bouquet from you, brushing past her as you unlocked the door. "Just leave it on the coffee table," you murmured, voice light, like this was any other night.

She did as you said, but you could feel the weight of her stare the whole time.

You walked into your room, slipping off your heels. Ellie followed, wordlessly taking a seat on your bed as you went to your vanity. You caught her gaze in the mirror—steady, sharp, calculating.

You started getting unready, removing your earrings first.

"Soo..." she finally spoke, her voice low, unreadable. "You were with... Abby?"

You saw the way her hands curled into the sheets at her sides. The way she tried to keep her voice casual.

You smirked.

This was going to be fun.

"Yeah, I figured if I was gonna spend Valentine’s with anyone, it should be her..."

Your voice was smooth, deliberate—each word sharpened just enough to cut. Like Abby was the only one who deserved your time. Like you hadn't even considered spending it with Ellie.

Why should you? It wasn’t your fault she had other plans. She blew you off first. She chose to be at some party, surrounded by people who weren’t you. Chose to let some girl—some nobody—sit on her lap like she belonged there.

Ellie doesn’t say anything at first. You see the way she tenses, fingers curling against the hem of her hoodie. Her knee bounces, jaw clenched like she’s trying to keep herself together, trying to be unaffected. But then she huffs out a breath, all forced nonchalance, and leans back on her palms.

"Right," she mutters, nodding slightly, like she’s convincing herself more than responding to you. "Makes sense. She’s, like... perfect, huh?"

There’s something in her voice that makes you pause—something bitter, something jealous. And it satisfies you.

ou unclip your earrings, dropping them onto the vanity with a soft clink. "Well, yeah," you say simply. "She knows exactly what to do, what to say... how to treat me."

Ellie’s jaw tightens.

You smirk at her reflection in the mirror. That got to her.

"She bought me all this, by the way." You gesture lazily to the designer shoes, the necklace glinting under the light, the massive bouquet sitting on your coffee table. "Really went all out. I mean, not that I’m surprised."

Ellie swallows, looking away. Her fingers fidget in her lap, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

"So," she starts, voice quieter now, "you had a good time, then?"

You twist your lip in amusement, watching her through the mirror. "I did."

Ellie nods again, but she doesn’t look convinced. She’s avoiding your gaze now, staring hard at the floor, at the carpet, at anything but you.

Good. Let her wallow in it. Let her sit in the weight of it, in the consequences of her choices.

You turn around, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the vanity. "Why do you care?" you ask, tilting your head, studying her.

Ellie flinches, just slightly. She lifts her head, and for a second, she looks like she’s going to deny it—going to say something sarcastic, something dismissive. But then her lips press into a thin line, and instead, she lets out a shaky breath.

"I don’t," she lies.

You smile. "Good."

The room was quiet now. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft rustling of fabric as you moved, slipping off your necklace, tossing it onto the nightstand. The weight of the night clung to the air, thick and heavy, pressing down on both of you.

Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot at the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched, fingers tangled together in her lap. She was stiff, tense, like she was forcing herself not to look at you.

And maybe she was.

You were down to just your underwear, skin bare under the warm glow of your bedside lamp. You stood up, moving across the room with slow, deliberate steps, grabbing an oversized shirt from your drawer and tugging it over your head.

When you flopped back onto the bed, right next to where she was sitting, you felt her shift. Barely. Just the tiniest movement, like she was reacting to your closeness without meaning to.

You turned your head, looking at her. She was staring at her hands now, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of your comforter.

You smirked.

"What?" you drawled.

Ellie shook her head. "Nothing."

"Liar."

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to collect herself. Her knee bounced again, her nervous energy filling the space between you.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. "You mad?"

Ellie scoffed, finally looking at you. "Why the fuck would I be mad?"

You hummed, tilting your head. "I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause I spent Valentine’s with someone else?"

Her jaw clenched. There it was again—that flicker of something, jealousy twisting its way across her face before she could shove it down.

You smiled, slow and smug.

"I mean," you continued, drawing out your words, "you were so busy today, after all. Out with Dina, drinking, letting some random girl sit on your lap—"

"She wasn’t—" Ellie groaned, running a hand down her face. "Jesus, are you serious right now?"

You shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it."

Ellie looked at you then, really looked at you, green eyes sharp and searching. The tension between you both was suffocating, crackling like a live wire, like a fire waiting to ignite.

And then—

She reached out, fingers brushing against your thigh, just barely, just enough to make you aware of the heat in her touch.

You inhaled sharply.

Ellie smirked this time, tilting her head as her fingers lingered. "You don’t actually think I give a shit about Abby—do you?"

You laughed. Not loud—just a quiet, amused little chuckle under your breath. Like the thought of Ellie even comparing herself to Abby was so ridiculous, it was funny.

"God," you sighed, shaking your head, still smirking. "You’re so fucking stupid sometimes."

Ellie frowned but didn’t argue.

"Lay down," you told her.

She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should, but then she did—slowly easing onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it would give her answers.

You turned onto your side, elbow sinking into the mattress, head propped up on your hand as you looked at her. Studied her.

"You really think I would’ve picked her over you?" you murmured, dragging the words out, letting them settle.

Ellie tensed.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Wow. And here I was, thinking you knew me better than that."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her hands fisted the hem of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

"I mean, I guess I did have a nice time," you continued, voice featherlight, tipping closer to her. "The restaurant was beautiful. Expensive as hell. Abby’s just so... put together, you know?"

Ellie’s jaw clenched.

"And she was so sweet. Got me all these gifts, picked out the prettiest necklace—"

You reached up, dragging your fingers lightly across your collarbone where the necklace should be. You knew she was looking.

"And God, she was so..." You trailed off, exhaling a small, pleased hum. "Perfect."

Ellie inhaled sharply through her nose.

You smirked. Got her.

"But I guess you don’t care, huh?" you added, faux-disappointed. "You were too busy with Dina and your little party. Guess I was just supposed to sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie’s brows pinched. She turned her head toward you, finally meeting your eyes, guilt flickering behind the green.

You just blinked at her, expression unreadable. Waiting.

She swallowed. "I—"

"No, it’s fine." You exhaled through your nose, like you had just made peace with something disappointing. "I mean, if you don’t care, you don’t care. I won’t force you to."

Ellie flinched. "I— That’s not what I—"

You shook your head, shifting onto your back, staring at the ceiling now too. "Forget it, Ellie. Just forget it."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Ellie stared at you, at the way your face was turned away from her now, at the way you had just shut her out.

She hated it.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Ellie didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You could feel her eyes on you, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Good. She should feel that way.

You sighed, shaking your head like you were just so disappointed in her. Then, before she could even react, you shifted—climbing over her, straddling her waist, pressing her into the mattress.

Ellie’s breath hitched. Her hands twitched at her sides, like she wanted to grab your hips but knew better.

"God," you murmured, staring down at her, fingers dragging up her chest, curling into the fabric of her hoodie. "You’re such an idiot."

Ellie swallowed hard. "I—"

"You didn’t even think to ask me what I was doing on Valentine's?" you cut her off, tilting your head, voice low and sharp. "Just assumed I’d be off on some date like some desperate little bitch? Like I don’t always spend that day with you?"

Ellie flinched. "No— I—I just thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you spat. "You thought you could ditch me, spend your night with Dina and whoever the fuck else, and I’d just sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie looked away. "I didn’t mean—"

"Shut up," you hissed.

She did.

You leaned in, your breath ghosting over her lips, your fingers tightening around her hoodie. Her hands clenched into fists against the sheets, body completely tense beneath you.

"I bet you didn’t even care what I was doing," you murmured, voice laced with venom. "Didn’t even think about me while you were at that party, huh?"

Ellie’s breath came out shaky, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I did," she whispered.

You scoffed. "Oh yeah? That’s why you had some bitch on your lap, right?"

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. "That wasn’t—"

"You’re so fucking selfish," you continued, fingers dragging down her chest, over her stomach, stopping just above her belt. "You get to go off, do whatever you want, and I’m just supposed to sit around and be fine with it?"

Ellie was breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling beneath you, her hands twitching against the sheets. She wanted to say something. You could tell.

But she didn’t.

Because you were right.

You tilted your head, your fingers curling around the collar of her hoodie, yanking her attention back to you.

“What happened, Ellie, huh?” Your voice was smooth, dripping like honey but firm, unwavering. "You're mine."

Ellie stayed silent, staring up at you like you were something holy, something dangerous.

"Are you fucking stupid, or did you forget?" You dragged your nails up her jaw, tilting her chin up, making her look at you.

Her lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling like she was struggling to breathe.

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t. What could she even say? That she knew she fucked up? That she knew you had every right to be mad? That she hated the thought of you with Abby, hated that you went on a date, hated that you let her kiss you?

Ellie was selfish like that. Always was.

She just kept staring at you, eyes dark, full of something between guilt and desperation.

And you smirked, because of course she wasn’t going to fight you on this.

Then, slowly, you leaned down.

Her breath hitched the second your lips brushed against hers, barely even touching before she was already reacting—lifting her head to chase your mouth, hands twitching like she wanted to grab you but knew she wasn’t allowed to.

You let her suffer for a second, just hovering, letting your breath tease her, watching her fall apart before you even gave her anything.

Then, finally, you kissed her.

Ellie let out this soft, broken sound—something between a whimper and a sigh—like she’d been holding her breath since the moment you climbed on top of her.

She kissed you back instantly, desperate, needy, like she had something to prove, like she was trying to apologize without saying a single word.

But you weren’t gonna make it easy for her.

You pulled back just as quick, barely giving her a second of relief before you were already ripping it away.

Ellie’s lips were parted, her breath uneven, pupils blown as she stared up at you, dazed, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to move or if she had to wait for you to give her permission.

God, she was so fucking easy.

You pulled back completely, watching the way Ellie instinctively followed, like she wanted to chase after you but forced herself to stay put.

Then, without a word, you climbed off her, settling beside her on the bed. You didn’t look at her at first, just leaning back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles, letting the silence stretch long enough for her to start squirming.

Ellie stayed on her back, still staring at the ceiling, but you could see her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles going white.

Then you finally spoke.

"You’re gonna make it up to me."

Ellie stiffened. Her head slowly turned to you, eyes flicking over your face, searching for something—anger, maybe, or some kind of mercy—but all you had was that same unreadable smirk.

You tilted your head, watching her. "You do wanna make it up to me, don’t you?"

Ellie nodded instantly, sitting up slightly. "Yeah. Of course."

You smiled, pleased.

"Good," you said, voice smooth, tapping your fingers against your thigh. "Then listen carefully."

Ellie looked wrecked. Like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to explain, but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to test you when you were like this.

"You ruined this day for me, Ellie. You hear me?" Your voice was steady, sharp. "God. You had fun without me? Let some girl sit on your lap that wasn’t me?" You scoffed, shaking your head like the thought alone was disgusting.

Ellie flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. "No—"

"And best of all," you interrupted, leaning in, "you came to my door, right when I was gonna let Abby in." You tilted your head, watching the way Ellie’s face froze. You let that sink in before delivering the final blow. "Let her have me."

You were lying, of course. But she didn’t need to know that.

Ellie’s breathing had gone shallow, her whole body stiff, jaw clenched. You could see the jealousy rising in her, the way her hands twitched like she didn’t know what to do with them.

"So," you continued, calm, tilting her chin up with your fingers so she’d look at you, so she’d really understand. "You’re gonna make up for all that. Do you get it?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, and nodded. "Yeah," she rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "I get it."

She watches as you sit up, lifting your hips to remove your panties. She swallows hard, waiting for you.

Ellie barely had time to react before you shifted, grabbing onto the headboard as you moved, positioning yourself just above her face.

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping at the sheets like she was waiting for permission—waiting for you to tell her what to do.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" Your voice was teasing, low, but there was no room for argument.

Ellie nodded, her pupils blown wide as she looked up at you, desperate, waiting.

"Then do it."

As you move into position and take off your shirt and bra, straddling her face with your bare pussy hovering just above her mouth, Ellie's heart races. She looks up at you, her hands slowly reach up, grasping your hips gently.

That's your good girl.

Your hips begin to move, rolling and grinding against Ellie's mouth. She grips your hips tighter, spreading her legs wider beneath you. She sticks her tongue out, catching your clit with the tip. You moan softly, riding her face faster. She hums softly, taking your movements like a champ.

Ellie's fingers dig into your hips possessively as you bounce on her face. Wet noises fill the room - your pussy smacking against her mouth, her sloppy suction sounds. She sticks her tongue deep inside you, making you moan loudly.

You can feel her nose pressing against your clit with every downward thrust. The angle lets you grind harder against her tongue, chasing your orgasm. She looks up at you with glazed, fuck-drunk eyes, completely devoted to pleasuring you. Just like how it should be.

You loved her like this—obedient, eager, desperate to please. Making you feel better, making you feel good—she fucking should.

She was yours. And after that shit she pulled today, God, it was only right for her to make it up to you.

Her hands gripped your thighs like she was holding on for dear life, her breath hot against your skin, her eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. And you were.

“Better make this count, Ellie,” you murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, threading your fingers into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

“Because I’m still so fucking mad at you.”

Your movements become more erratic as you near the edge. Ellie's fingers flex against your hips, helping to support you as you ride her face with abandon. She can feel you getting closer, your pussy clenching around her tongue. She doubles her efforts, determined to make you come undone.

You throw your head back, arching your back as you reach the peak. Ellie opens her mouth wider, catching your release as it gushes out. She swallows hungrily, trying to drink every drop as you shudder and tremble above her. "Mmmphhh…”

You slowly come down from your high, your pussy still twitching as the last waves of your orgasm subside. Ellie keeps her mouth pressed against your folds, licking up every bit of your juices. Finally, she pulls away, her lips shiny and glistening.

"Good girl, but we're not done yet baby”

She looks up at you, doe eyed. A small amount of your juices drip down her chin. She licks her lips, swallowing the excess. She hummed, her voice soft and submissive, clearly eager to please you further.

Ellie obediently sits up, pulling her hoodie over her head and tossing it aside. She reveals her breasts. Crawling onto the bed, she positions herself above you, her knees straddling your hips.

She offers her hand to you, palm up. You spit into her palm, and she looks down at the saliva, then back up at you with a confused expression. You guide her fingers towards your center. She slowly inserts her fingers inside you, curling them upwards at your instruction.

As she fingers you, her other hand reaches up to play with her own breasts. She pinches and rolls her nipples between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips start to rock slightly, grinding against your thigh. She's clearly getting turned on from pleasuring you.

You feel her fingers moving faster, more confidently inside you. She's learning quickly, hitting your spots just right. Her other hand leaves her breast to reach down, spreading your lips open so she can watch her fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

You spread your legs wider, pushing your hips down to meet her fingers. "God yes," you moan softly. She watches your reactions closely, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your quickened breath. Her fingers curl again, making you buck your hips sharply. "Right there," you gasp.

Pressing hard and rubbing. "Jesus," you moan loudly, your back arching slightly. She sees how wet you're getting, how your body responds to her touch. She adds another finger, stretching you. Your inner thighs tighten, your heels dig into the mattress.

Ellie curls her fingers deeply inside you, her palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, a breathy moan leaving your lips as you grind against her hand shamelessly. "So Beautiful," she whispers in awe, feeling your arousal coating her fingers.

She leans down, her face hovering over your breast. Without breaking eye contact, she sticks out her tongue, circling your nipple teasingly before sucking it into her mouth.

Her fingers move faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over while her palm maintains constant pressure on your clit. Your breasts heave with each laborious breath, legs trembling as another orgasm builds. "Oh fuck..." She notices your approaching climax and curls her fingers even deeper.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, she realizes how good she's become at pleasing you. Your moans get louder, more insistent…

With a choked gasp, you surrender to your climax, your pussy clamping down hard around Ellie's fingers. She continues to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging every last shudder and twitch. As your release subsides, she slowly withdraws her fingers, bringing them to her mouth to lick clean.

Ellie swallowed, her lips still glossy, her eyes still blown wide as she looked up at you. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, trying to steady herself, but you weren’t going to let her think this was over.

“How was that?” she asked, voice raspier than usual, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear you say it.

You tilted your head, watching her carefully, dragging your fingers along her jaw, down her throat, feeling how she tensed under your touch.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice slow, teasing. Then you leaned in, close enough that your breath tickled her skin before you pulled back again, smirking.

“But don’t think I’ve already forgiven you.”

tag list ! : @reinam00n @macaroni676 @blackdykegirlblogger @monki-nat

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artemisiasmuse · 2 days ago

Note

Hey so ur insanely fucking talented I JUST read ur latest prompt if u have the time 🙂‍↔️ can we pls get a prompt of rafe going through readers Pinterest acc just to find that hidden board she’s so secretive about since she feels like ‘it’s too early for That and rafe wouldn’t like it’ and when reader finds out she’s just all prissy and a lil embarresed and rafes just all adorable about it <3333 anyways ly and take care it could be long too just dump ur head innit

ANON YOUR MIND i want to kiss ur brain, thank u for the support i appreciate so much :((

cw: fluff^2, some manhandling, height difference

rafe finding your wedding board:

he’s using your laptop for some work thing he can’t delay and since he’s at your place it just makes sense and you don’t think twice about it

once he’s done he notices your open tabs and while rafe is vehemently against snooping he can’t help himself but click on the “<3 wedding <3” pinterest tab he finds it full of rings, dresses, ceremony, decorations, cakes, and even invitation pictures. he thinks it’s sweet and he’s about to leave it alone, chalking it up to another girly thing, when he notices the description of the board. “for me and rafey one day” and then he decides no he can’t leave it alone. he takes a few pictures of the rings, for later, and tries to leave your laptop just as it was

he finds you in your room, putting clothes away into your closet and can’t help but think how you would in a wedding dress or just how pretty a ring would look on your fingers

you notice him staring, turning towards him with a smile, setting down the clothes you were folding, “all good?” he decides he’d much rather find out where you head is at, were you waiting for him to pop the question? you guys were young sure but not that young.

“uh huh, saw something interesting though.” his hands find your hips, turning you around so your back is to the wall. he knows you’ll try to run, so he gently walks you two backwards until your back is against the wall. you’re so trusting all you do is look up at him with wide eyes, he wonders if he should be concerned with how easily you let him manhandle you

“yeah what’s that rafey?” you mumble, taken with how strong your boyfriend is and how good he looks in a plain white tee. it should be illegal

“rafey there’s that name, you know you and rafey could make ‘one day’ a lot sooner.” he smirks down at you, leaning down with his arm resting next to your head, caging you in. you close your eyes as you realize at once what he’s referring to, embarrassment making you unable to meet his eyes. oh god you were so fucked. you’d been dating a while but you didn’t think it was time to bring up marriage! you were scared of rafe finding out and now you’d definitely fucked it up. god how embarrassing!

“hey! you weren’t supposed to see that.” you huff, your cheeks puffing up and you’re practically stomping your feet like a little kid. rafe is endlessly endeared, laughing at your reaction

“oh but you left it open, thought you wanted me to see?” he was crowding you against the wall, leaning down so he was your height and you couldn’t help but blink up at him owlishly. rafe was having too much fun teasing you.

“no i-, it was a mistake okay? just forget you saw it, we’re too young and it’s too-“

“relax baby, i thought it was cute, i was ready to propose on our second date.” he cut you off, there was no way in hell he’d give you the impression he wasn’t all in. your heartbeat stuttered at his words, second date, so early on you hadn’t even thought about a relationship let alone marriage.

“stop teasing.” your cheeks puffed up, if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have cried from how mean he was being. you really loved him truly and deeply, if he proposed you weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to say no, age be damned.

“i’m not, mrs. cameron” your lashes fluttered at the name, rafe loved how easy it was to read you.

“oh my god.” you groaned, stuffing your face into his chest and making him laugh at your reaction. rafe thinks you should start getting used to the name, it’s gonna be yours soon anyway. now he just has to steal one of your rings to get the size right.

#artemisiasmuse #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron ask #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe x female reader

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harrywavycurly · 3 days ago

Text

Handle With Care: Sunshine and Citrus

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, miscommunication, jealousy Harry and one brief mention of your ex and angst like hella angst.

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @namoreno @coralferrio1 @stylesftcher @mema10 @cherryloveshs @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @triski73

A/N: There’s only one more part left in this mini series and I am so sorry in advance but just know this does have a happy ending so just hold on okay? 😅

Summary: Harry is on a mission to show you he’s not an asshole but little does he know you’re also on a mission of your own✨📦

Harry feels all the knowledge he has about flowers, as little as it may be begin to slip away as he stares at the multiple bouquet options that are in little black bins right in front of him. For the life of him he can’t seem to remember the color of the flowers he ruined when he ran into you coming off the elevator almost a week ago, so he’s struggling to even know where to start in his efforts to replace them. He chews on his bottom lip as he scans his options for the third time, his eyes landing on an arrangement that has different hues of orange and yellow tulips with the smallest bit of red from a few roses tucked in as well.

A small smile slowly spreads across his face as he reaches for it because it reminds him of all the colors of a sun and if anyone deserves to have a bouquet of flowers that look like the sun it’s you. The girl who smells like pure sunshine and flowers rolled into the perfect mixture with a hint of something fruity, a smell Harry found himself missing so much he even went as far as trying to recreate it with candles and an odd room spray he found at a home decor store and while he likes the way they smell, nothing compares to the real thing.

“Thank fuck you finally picked something we’ve been here for ten bloody minutes staring at flowers like a pair of weirdos.” Niall’s statement of annoyance snaps Harry out of his thoughts as he rolls his eyes at Niall rant, having momentarily forgot he was even standing next to him the whole time he was staring at the bouquet options.

“Why are you even here?” Harry asks as he heads towards the checkout counter so he can get the flowers wrapped up in paper with some string.

“Because we both know you’ll somehow manage to ruin this whole thing if you do it alone.” Niall states as he looks at the roses next to the checkout counter while Harry just lets out a scoff as he places his bouquet on the counter for the nice woman to ring up.

“I’m more than capable of picking flowers for someone you tw-”

“You’re like an overgrown toddler Harry. Always making a mess of things that should be simple especially when it comes to her.” Niall cuts him off making Harry’s cheeks get warm at his words that even though they may be true doesn’t make them hurt any less. But when Niall looks over and sees Harry just rubbing his lips together he lets out a sigh and gives him a harsh pat on the back. “But don’t worry H m’not gonna let you fuck it up this time.” Niall says trying to reassure him as Harry smiles at the woman as she hands him the bouquet that’s been beautifully wrapped in white paper and some ribbon that’s tied in a nice bow.

“Good luck honey. I’m sure she’ll love them.” Harry feels his face get warm at the woman’s kind words and all he can offer in return is a tight lipped smile and a nod before he turns around and heads out of the store with Niall following behind him.

“Why won’t you just let me give you her number so you can better arrange this whole thing?” Niall asks as the two of them begin to walk the short distance back to Harry’s apartment complex.

“I already told you why.”

“Okay yeah but what if-”

“I don’t want to hear any what ifs okay? I want to get her number myself because I want to make sure she actually wants me to have it and that’s the end of it. We both know if I just text her she’s way too nice to tell me to fuck off so I’ll never know if she wanted me to have her number or not.”

“I get all that Harry I really do. But what if she’s out of town for a week and you leave these on her door and they’re ruined by-”

“Niall.” Harry stops walking so he can turn to face his friend who is usually always trying to look out for him but in this moment he’s not doing much besides annoying him. “I don’t care if she’s out of town for a month the point is she will see that I tried and that’s all I really care about right now. I need her to see I’m not an asshole.” He explains with a sigh as he runs his hand that’s not holding the flowers through his hair. Niall just nods and turns his head in the direction of Harry’s complex.

“You gonna leave a note with the flowers or just drop them off like a secret admirer?” Niall questions with a raise of his brow as he looks back at Harry.

“Fuck no I’m not just dropping them off are you insane?I’m not letting some random asshole take credit for my flowers.” Harry answers making Niall laugh as the two of them start walking again.

You rub your lips together and try to fight off the nerves that are beginning to creep back up as you stand in front of Harry’s apartment door, the pep talk you gave yourself in the elevator long forgotten as you rethink your whole plan. But before you can give yourself anymore time to possibly back up and turn to head back down the hallway to the elevators you raise your hand up and knock on the door. Not trying to be nosey or be seen as a creep to anyone that might glance out of their peepholes or come out of their front doors, you just stand there and do your best to listen for footsteps or any signs that someone is home but after a solid two minutes of silence you come to the conclusion no one is going to answer.

The sigh that you let out if a mixture of relief and also disappointment, having texted Niall asking for Harry’s apartment number so you could try to talk to him about the other night when he showed up at your door talking about zaps and a party but ended with you accidentally hurting his feelings. As you turn to make your way towards the elevators you begin trying to work through what exactly he was talking about when he mentioned feeling a weird static like shock every time you touch him but you’re certain that if something like that was happening to him then you’d have to feel it as well and yet you haven’t, not even once. But most importantly you begin to wonder why you can’t seem to just let the whole thing go, why you can’t just forget about the tall tattooed man who’s been nothing but mean to you since you met him minus the one time he showed you an ounce of kindness when he was drunk standing in your door at one in the morning.

“Why does he have to be so cute?” You mumble to yourself as you step into the elevator. “Like really cute.” You add with a sigh as the doors close and you press the number for your floor. All of a sudden you feel annoyed with yourself for letting Harry’s looks get in the way of the fact he’s not nice nor does he seem to be interested in you, because even when he knocked on your door to invite you to his party he only did it on Niall’s behalf and hours after the party even started meaning he didn’t really want you there.

“He doesn’t like you. So we are letting him go.” You say with a firm tone, you nod at your reflection in the elevator door just before it opens up on your floor. “He doesn’t-” you are about to repeat your new mantra but the words get stuck in your throat as you look down the hallway and see Harry bending down to leave a bouquet of flowers on the welcome mat outside your front door while Niall stands off to the side with his back against the wall.

“Jesus Harry you writin’her a damn novel? Just sign the card and let’s go. I’m hungry.” You hear Niall’s voice from down the hall and you instantly look around for a place to hide so neither of them see you, deciding you don’t really know if you’re ready to be face to face with Harry yet since just a few moments ago you were ready to swear him off and now he’s suddenly leaving you flowers.

“Oh fuck off you’re always hungry.” You hear Harry’s voice snap at his bestfriend and you feel your cheeks get warm at how deep it is but you don’t have time to wonder if he’s always sounded like that or not because you then hear them begin to walk towards the elevators because Niall’s keys he keeps on his belt loop begin to jingle with each step. Quickly you dart into the stairwell and thank your lucky stars they don’t opt to get in some cardio and choose to use the elevator instead.

“You think she’ll like them?”

“I mean yeah why wouldn’t she?”

“Because I don’t know? What if that’s the kind of flowers she hates? Or what if she’s allergic to them or-”

“What happened to not wanting to hear any what ifs?”

“You’re such a twat.” You cover your mouth with both hands to stop yourself from letting out a laugh at Harry’s choice of insult and to keep yourself from audibly awing as he voices his worries about if you’ll like the flowers he picked for you.

“Yeah yeah whatever at least m’not in-” You don’t get to hear the rest of Niall’s sentence due to the very obnoxious sound of the elevator doors opening. You chance a glance through the small window on the door to the stairs and let out a sigh of relief when you see the doors to the elevator have closed and the arrow shows they are heading down.

“Just because he left flowers doesn’t mean he likes you.” You repeat over and over again in your head as you quietly exit the stairwell and begin to slowly walk down the hallway towards your front door.

“Love, Harry.” You whisper to yourself as you hold the card from the bouquet of tulips and roses that are in a yellow and white polka dotted vase on your kitchen counter.

It’s safe to say you’ve been staring at the flowers and the card that was tucked inside them ever since you picked them up off your welcome mat two days ago. It’s also safe to say you have been doing everything humanly possible to not run into Harry since then because you just don’t know what you’d say to him. You’re trying to figure out what exactly it all means, because if you wouldn’t have heard Niall complain about how long it was taking Harry to write the card you never would’ve thought something so sweet could be written by him, the man that usually is extremely short and snarky towards you.

“Tried to pick some that reminded me of you. Hope you like them and they make you smile. I really like it when you smile.” You read aloud hoping that saying the words out loud and not just in your head it’ll help you uncover the secret message that you feel is hidden somewhere within the three simple sentences. “He likes it when I smile?” You question while placing the card down next to the vase.

“Doesn’t mean he likes you.” You remind yourself as you turn to go into the living room, ready to get comfortable on your couch and decide what you want for dinner before starting a movie. Right before you sit down you hear three loud knocks on your front door making you raise a brow because you don’t have plans with anyone tonight and you haven’t ordered anything to be delivered. When you get to your door you look through the peephole and you feel your eyes go wide at who you see standing on the other side.

Harry tries not to let the idea that you’re avoiding him enter in his mind as stands outside your door after his second round of knocks. He thought you moving into the same complex as him would make it easier for him to run into you but he’s quickly learned that’s just not true. Much to his disappointment he hasn’t even gotten a whiff of your floral and sunshine scent in the elevators and he finds that extremely odd because usually it lingers long after you’ve left the room. So naturally that has him convinced that you just haven’t left your apartment recently or you haven’t been home, but when he sees the flowers he left on your doorstep two days ago are gone he knows you’ve at least been home in the last forty eight hours. When he reaches up to knock one more time before giving up he hears what sound like locks being undone so he takes a small step back to give you some space once you open the door.

Now Harry swears he’s not one to really believe in the whole love at first sight thing, thinks it’s silly and probably just a really hearty dose of lust getting mixed up with love. But something about the way your eyes almost get a whole shade brighter when they meet his has his knees wanting to give out and his mouth to hang open as he tries to come up with something, anything to say since he is the one who knocked on your door after all. He finally feels a brief moment of clarity when your eyes break away from his and travel down to the box in his hands.

“Uh hi Harry what-what are you doing here?” He hates how unsure of yourself you are as you cross your arms over your middle as you stand in front of him in a pair of bike shorts and a pink and purple tye dye shirt. He knows it’s his fault that you don’t know how to act around him, he’s the one who can’t seem to get it together around you but that’s also the whole reason he’s here.

“I got these for you.” You look down at his hands as he holds the box out for you and that’s when you get a good look at the picture and label on it, it’s a dish ware set that looks like the ones he broke when he dropped your box. “Sorry if they aren’t the exact same as the ones you had I looked everywhere for-”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Harry feels the corners of his mouth fall a bit at your words, he absolutely did have to do this because he’s the reason you don’t have plates and bowls but he knows you’re just trying to be nice per usual.

“We both know it’s the least I could do.” He counters making you just rub your lips together as you take the box from him.

“But you didn’t do anything right? Nothing happened?” You repeat the same words he snapped at you with when you confronted him after you watched him drop your box, but to his surprise there’s a smile on your face as if you’re teasing him.

“You know that’s the uhm-only box I’ve ever dropped.” He admits with warm cheeks making you quirk a brow at him as if you don’t believe him. “Really out of all the moves I’ve done over the years your box of dishes is the only casualty I’ve ever had. I had a perfect track record.” He explains making you let out a light chuckle as you shake your head.

“Sorry I ruined that for you.” You apologize as you look down at his feet that are once again covered by his scuffed brown boots.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” It’s the way he says it that has you swallowing nervously as you dare to look up at him and you almost have to take a step back at the intensity of his stare. “I’m sor-”

“It’s okay.” You don’t want to hear him apologize right now because you’re not sure you’d be able to keep yourself together if he does it while he continues to look at you as if you hung the moon and all the stars. Harry just runs a hand through his hair as he nods his head but he doesn’t turn to leave like you assumed he would, instead he takes a small step towards you and reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I uhm-sorry I just you had-a hair.” He stumbles over his words as if his tongue doesn’t know how to help him form proper sentences. Meanwhile the spot on your cheek his knuckles lightly skimmed when he brushed the hair behind your ear feels as if it was stung by a bee but without the pain, leaving behind a warmth and slight tingling feeling.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks a few moments later when concern replaces his earlier embarrassment, he bends his knees a bit so he’s eye level with you as you stare off into space with wide eyes and pink cheeks. You don’t know how to answer him, because inside you feel all warm and tingly but your mind is cloudy as if it’s stuck in a fog and can’t find its way out leaving you unable to do much besides just stand there staring at him.

“Uh-uhm I think-” Before you can finish your sentence Harry is grabbing the box just before it hits the ground having slipped out of your hands in your dazed state. “Thank-thank y-you.” Normally Harry would be flattered at someone getting so tongue tied around him but in this moment all he’s feeling is worried as he looks you over and realizes something isn’t quite right.

“Let’s get you off your feet okay? You look like you’re about to pass out on me.” Harry takes your small nod as his permission to softly put his free hand that’s not holding your box of plates on your shoulder so he can quickly maneuver around you and walk into your apartment. He rushes over and places the box on your counter, only briefly catching a glimpse of the flowers he left for you sitting near your sink in a vase before he’s back at the door standing behind you.

“Sorry it’s uhm just me.” He whispers when you flinch at his touch as he places his hands on both your shoulders so he can help you turn around so you’re now facing inside your apartment with him close behind you. “Let’s go to the couch okay love?” He suggests before he takes a step so he’s now by your side and kicking your front door closed with his foot, his eyes don’t leave your face as he drops his hands from your shoulders so he can wrap an arm around your middle so he can help you walk since he can tell your legs seem a bit wobbly.

You feel like you’re floating as Harry practically drags you to your couch, a trail of warmth and tingles left everywhere his hand touches you in the process. Right now it’s your hip he has a firm grip on and it’s sending the tingling sensation right down to your knee almost making you take Harry and yourself out but luckily he manages to get you to the couch before that happens. Your heart is beating so fast you think it’s going to explode as Harry sits on the edge of your coffee table right in front of you so he can get a good look at you.

“Are you okay? Do you need-”

“Why-why’d you get me-me the flowers?” Your words are rushed and jumbled but Harry understands you because you watch him turn and look towards your kitchen where they are sitting on your counter.

“I just want to fix what I broke.” He answers when he turns back to look at you, he wishes so badly he could have an inside look at what’s going on in your mind because the way you’re staring at him has him thinking you’re about three seconds away from kicking him out or you’re about to start crying and in this moment he’s not sure how well he’d handle either option.

“They remind me of sunshine.” You whisper as you place a hand on your chest and try to help clam yourself down a bit. Harry feels a grin take over his face as you tell him the exact reason why he picked that arrangement in the first place.

“They reminded me of you.”

“Sunshine?”

“Yeah.”

“What does that mean?” You question making Harry let out a deep breath as he tries to ready himself to explain evening to you.

“From the moment you opened your apartment door I haven’t been able to get you out of my head and a massive reason for that is because you smell just like sunshine and flowers and-”

“It’s called sun washed citrus.” You correct him making him quirk a brow. “It’s my body wash. It’s called sun washed citrus not sunshine and flowers.” Your words are less mumbled as you begin to gain a little bit more control of yourself. Harry chuckles and nods as you blink at him a few times and he’s honestly not even sure you’re really understanding what he’s saying but that doesn’t stop him from continuing on.

“I was mean to you and I’m sorry. I swear I’m never like that-I’m a nice guy but I think I just knew you were too good or too nice for me from the first time you smiled at me.” You watch him slowly place a hand on your knee and you feel grateful that you’re already sitting down because it sends a tingling jolt down to your toes. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you upset and I’m sorry that’s all I’ve seemed to do but I think I realized the real reason I just can’t get my shit-”

“Stuff.” You interject making him laugh as he gives your knee a little squeeze.

“Sorry. I know why I can’t get my stuff together around you and it’s because I uhm-well I uh I really like you and it’s got me all messed up.” Harry tries to focus on how much lighter he feels after admitting he likes you, as if the weight that’s been holding him down ever since his party has been lifted off his chest. But he also can’t stop himself from trying to get a sense of how you’re feeling about the words he just let slip out, and right now he really can’t tell because you’re just staring at him with big eyes and a blank expression on your face.

It’s not until Harry removes his hand that’s on your knee so he can use it to run through his hair that you begin to feel the fog lifting from your mind allowing you to think more clearly. You try to register everything he just said to you, the fact he likes you and how he really seems to enjoy how you smell but you can’t make sense of how his feelings for you had him acting like a complete jerk. So with a clear head and a full control of your limbs you push off the couch making Harry quickly stand up and hold his hands out for you to grab just incase your knees give out of your legs feel wobbly still.

“I don’t think you really like me Harry.” Of all the things Harry was prepared to hear you say that sentence wasn’t on the list. He gets a sinking feeling in his gut as he watches you look down at the floor. “You don’t treat the people you like the way you treated me. Thank you for the flowers and the plates that was very nice and-”

“I’m sorry I’m-I’m so sorry for everything I did and said to you I never wanted to hurt you I just-”

“But you did.” When you look up from the floor Harry feels like he’s been punched in the gut, your eyes are glossy and the very tip of your nose is turning a light shade of pink as you sniffle a few times. “I know you’re sorry and I do forgive you for everything but I don’t think you did all of that because of how much you like me. We aren’t in junior high anymore Harry we aren’t mean to the people we have crushes on.” Your words hit him right in the chest as you move away from him and towards your kitchen.

“I’ve seen glimpses of the nice guy you say you usually are but then you just turn right back into this jerk and I’ve already dated a guy who treated me like dirt and it didn’t end well so I’m-I’m ending this before it even starts to save us both the trouble because you’ll just get bored with me while I’ll probably fall in love with you and it’s not fair so you-you should just go.” You cross your arms over your chest and let out a shaky breath as you try your hardest to keep yourself held together, but Harry can see very clearly that you’re moments away from a breakdown and he hates knowing that it’s because of him and the way he’s made you think he’s exactly like your shitty ex boyfriend.

“I swear I’m nothing like him.” He tries to get you to look at him as he takes a step towards you but you just shake your head and take a step backwards until your back is hitting the edge of the counter.

“Then why do you act so much like him?” Harry feels like the wind just got knocked out of him as you stare at him right in the eyes and break his heart piece by piece with every word that comes out of your mouth. He doesn’t try to argue with you because there’s nothing to argue about, you’re right he’s been acting exactly like your ex he just didn’t realize it until now.

“Can I try to explain why I’ve been acting that way? I know it doesn’t make sense right now but I swear there’s just something about you that has me-”

“Please just go Harry I can’t-can’t do this right now.” Your voice is low and watery making Harry feel sick to his stomach at the thought of you shedding even a single tear because of him but he can’t do anything about it since you no longer want him in your space. He lowers his head and lets out a long sigh before he starts to head for your front door.

“I know you felt it.” You turn your head and find Harry already looking at you from where he’s standing by your front door. “I don’t know what it felt like to you but I know you felt something when I touched you and that’s why you looked like you could pass out. So I know you at least feel something for me.” You feel your heart sink to your stomach as he runs a hand over his face to try to distract from the sound of his own sniffles. “If you ever change your mind and want to maybe start over you know where to find me.” With that Harry opens your front door and steps out into the hallway, quietly closing it behind him leaving you alone in your apartment with nothing but your thoughts.

Harry does his best to hold himself together until he makes it to his apartment, only letting out a few shaky breaths and some sniffles in the elevator. When he finally closes his apartment door he can’t hold back anymore as he sinks to the floor with his back up against it. He brings his hands up to his face as he lets out the first of many tears he knows are coming, he swears he’s had his heart broken before but the feeling he has now is as if someone reached inside of him and ripped the entire organ out of his body and replaced it with a black hole. He didn’t see it ending like this with you especially since it ended before it even began, he didn’t imagine for a moment that you’d want nothing to do with him but he can’t blame you because he brought all of this upon himself with how he treated you.

“God I’m a fucking idiot.” He mumbles between sobs as he thinks back to how he really thought some flowers and plates would magically fix everything and have you jump into his arms and want to be with him the same way he wants to be with you. In a moment of pure selfishness he allows himself to cling to the small shred of hope that maybe in time you’ll want to start over with him, you’ll let him show you the man he really is and the story of the two of you can get the happy ending he so desperately wants. So even though he knows it’s probably just going to end up hurting him, he lets a tiny smile form on his face as he tells himself that you just need time and then you’ll come around because you felt it, you felt the zap just like he did and that has to mean something.

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temporarywelcome · 3 days ago

Text

A Bit of Lunch and Thievery - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: HI! I have a request: What if, kleptomaniac!reader has lunch with spencer at the BAU and keeps yapping loudly about her interests (or her job) and she keeps like taking things from his desk and he keeps slapping her hand away (perchance cameo of some amused BAU members?) -anonymous

CW: light swearing, a suggestive comment, klepto!reader, technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series but each part can be read as standalone

AN: sorry I was gone for so long lmao lacrosse, school, and depression is rough. also does anyone else struggle writing fics when they're down bad for someone? anywayyyy-

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Words: 1.3k

It was a normal day at the BAU office.

Well, obviously not a normal day considering they were even at the office and not on a jet across the country. The BAU was having a mysteriously mundane day full of filling out and organizing paperwork, so normal and boring that it was almost odd to them.

Of course, the peace had to end eventually.

Spencer Reid’s phone rang, and he was fishing it out of his pocket immediately. The ringtone for this contact was different from the default ringtone that came with the device, different from the ringtone literally every other contact had. She had took the time to download the ringtone herself, stating he should always know when she was calling him because she was oh-so important.

Well, to him, she was.

“Hello?” he said simply, leaning back in his chair. He could see Prentiss seated at her desk, JJ standing over her with a coffee complaining about some over-the-top thing her son, Henry, had done the night prior.

“Hey, babe!” his girlfriend, Y/N, chirped on the other line. She was always so chipper, always so energetic. He was not.

“You know I’m at work, right?” he deadpanned, though the corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. He could never be stone-faced when talking to her.

She was used to his dry tone, not acknowledging it, “Why, yes, I do. Now let me in, I brought you lunch,”

Instantly, his eyes brightened, “Wait, you’re outside right now?”

“Mhm. Now let me in before the food gets cold.”

Within the next six minutes and seventeen seconds, Spencer was back at his desk, but this time, with his lovely girlfriend seated next to him. He quietly ate the Spanish food she had bought as she spoke about her day. It was only 1 p.m., and he was sure she woke up extremely late, but, not to his surprise, she had a lot to say. A lot to say, despite the fact her day consisted of waking up and driving to get Spanish food and visiting him.

“...yeah, I think we should get a dog,” Y/N said after explaining her run-in with a woman and her large doberman. Being herself, upon seeing the doberman running dead at her, instead of running away, Y/N had opened up her arms excitedly to hug the beast.

She was lucky it was a nice doberman.

“A dog?” Spencer’s brows furrowed as he contemplated the idea, “I don’t know…”

“Well why not?” she pouted, and, not to his surprise, snatched the stapler from his desk.

“Because I’m barely home,” he replied, gripping her wrist (a reflex at this point), other hand plucking the stapler from her and placing it back where it was before. “You’d be the one taking care of it the most, and that’s not fair.”

“Hmph,” her eyes darted to the stapler again then back to her rice, “I wouldn’t mind,”

Her hand reached for the stapler again and he gently slapped it, not even acknowledging it. See, his beautiful, wonderful girlfriend had her issues. Main issue being her diagnosed kleptomania, a condition that gave her uncontrollable urges to steal objects, no matter how useless and unneeded.

Like the stapler which she kept eyeing.

Upon his team finding out about her and her condition, they were all incredibly iffy on her, except Garcia, who was the one who uncovered everything anyway. One by one, Y/N was able to get the approval of each teammate, even Rossi, who had disliked her the most.

He still didn’t trust her very much, but the rest of the team found her antics quite amusing.

“Yes you would,” he told her, taking a sip of his drink, “You’d be fine with it for the first month or so, but then you would start getting annoyed with me and telling me I should be helping you take care of our son or daughter or whatever you would like to call it,”

Y/N paused, knowing he was 100% correct. Especially about the son or daughter part. “I think I’m more of a boy mom,”

“Ignoring the point, I see,”

“Shut up,” she grumbled.

“Hey, Reid, good afternoon Reid’s girl,” Morgan greeted with his usual smirk, a decent-sized stack of papers in hand, “Food looks good,”

“It is,” Spencer confirmed. Morgan plopped the papers down onto the genius’ desk. “Did you know there are over one hundred, twenty thousand varieties of rice- Y/N,” he slapped a hand down onto the stack of papers as Y/N went to snatch it up. “No,”

“Sorry,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are way too fun and entertaining to want to read those,” Morgan joked before deciding to leave back to his own desk.

“Yeah…” she muttered, bringing her hand up to bite her thumb nail nervously, “Way too fun and enter….” she trailed off, Spencer picking up his pen in time before she could snag it. “Shit,” she placed her hands onto her lap, “Maybe I should go…”

“No no no,” Spencer took her hands into his own like he always did when she was getting her urges, “I’m happy you visited me. Stay a little longer,”

“I am a kleptomaniac in a federal building, this was a bad idea,”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, that’s what I’m here for,” he gave her hands a gentle squeeze, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure you don’t leave with anything,”

“A klepto dating a federal agent is so ironic,” she chuckled humorlessly, “How do you deal with me?”

“I don’t deal with you, I don’t tolerate you,” he replied, “Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you. I’m simply with you, because of the fact I love you,”

“Don’t talk to me like that, I’ll fuck you,” she huffed, pulling her hands away while blushing red.

“You did not just say that at my place of work,” he gasped, now blushing as well. He swiftly looked around to see if any of his coworkers were listening. He was sure every single one of them were, considering how nosy they were when it came to his relationship.

“Your fault, don’t talk to me like that,”

“Don’t talk sweetly to my girlfriend?”

“Makes me all blushy and giggly,” she shrugged, beginning to smile as she looked away.

“I’ll talk to you like one of your directors, I suppose,” Spencer teased gently. Y/N was an incredibly strong dancer, and had her experiences with rude and stress-inducing directors.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “I’ll kill myself,” Her eyes met his and she giggled softly, leaning in for a quick kiss, which he returned happily.

“They’re so cute,” JJ told Prentiss fondly, taking a sip of her coffee, “They’re really good for each other,”

“They are,” Prentiss agreed with a nod and smile, “They’re the kind of people who you would least expect get together, but it just makes sense when they do,”

At that moment, Hotch entered, a stressed look on his face. JJ and Prentiss exchanged looks, already thinking it was time to pack for a new case.

Instead, he simply asked, “Has anyone seen my ID?”

Agent Aaron Hotchner? Losing his ID? Something so important, belonging to someone so aware and responsible? A completely out-of-character thing for him to do-

“Uh,” Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly, giving Spencer a knowing look.

With a sigh, Spencer held out a hand, allowing her to drop Hotch’s ID into it.

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fairestwriting · 14 hours ago

Note

Hello 👋 could I please request headcanons for leona's fem s/o defending him everytime one of the other characters start making backhanded comments to his face (if you've seen some of the vignettes you'll know what I mean) she doesn't reveal things like he's depressed or anything (tho he is) she just tells them it's shitty of them calling him lazy/selfish constantly without even knowing him personally

[Everyone treats leona like crap and I take personal offense to it >:( ]

You know i make fun of him on a regular basis. but theres a line thats gotta be drawn when it comes to leona bullying. cause damn this guy needs a real Break he cant even have issues in peace

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Before you got closer to him, there’s a fair chance the comments didn’t even stand out to you at all. It always felt a little unfair, yes, but not in a way that was particularly shocking, they were all just rude comments like any other. Back when you weren’t quite friends yet, and maybe even at the start of your friendship, you might have interjected with a simple ”hey, he’s not that bad” or "you don’t need to be rude about it”. It was just a gesture of basic politeness then, something the people around you seemed to lack.

But obviously, your perception of those interactions, and the way you see Leona’s situation itself, soon went through a rather radical change. Possibly even before you two started dating, or even before he “told you too much” — His own words, mumbled dismissively but bitterly, the day he came back after spending a weekend with his family and then proceeded to complain for a little longer than usual — As he warmed up to you, you started to notice things about him more. You started to see the spark of actual passion he has in his eyes during his club activities, the level of detail he gets into when analyzing things, the precise way he moved his chess pieces when you two played...

Above all, though, you started to notice how he often looked actually tired when he took part in any of the “slacking” he’s so infamous for. Learning the littlest bit more about his family life just worked as the final piece of the puzzle you’d been putting together without even noticing — And then, other people’s “rudeness” started to sound like something much more cruel. It didn’t help that he never seemed to react to it whenever he overheard others gossiping, or whenever you told him about the things you heard. “Why doesn’t he care?” The thought would echo in your mind for ages, trying to understand him through the tiny slivers of vulnerability he didn’t mean to show.

Now, as his girlfriend, you feel you just can’t let people say whatever they want, and you feel it more strongly than you ever have. ”Why don’t you mind your own business instead of talking about someone you don’t really know?” You snap back on instinct when one of your classmates, who was in Savanaclaw, comments on how lazy their dorm leader is. Their mouth closes instantly, regardless if you’ve made your relationship public or not — You realize that, on top of all the negative treatment Leona got, it was also extremely rare for others to defend him in any way at all. Enough that even a response that simple elicits shock from others.

”You know, it’s crazy to see you hanging out with Leona like that. I never thought I'd see anyone get so excited to spend time with him.” You hear some other day, while spending time in Savanaclaw’s common area, sat right next to Leona, and it just makes your blood boil. He’s just half-glaring at your particularly cocky acquaintance, sighing like he’s heard it a million times before, which you know he probably has. ”Hey, make sure you don’t get too influenced, we don’t need another person who just sleeps all day—”

”Yeah, you’re right. This type of person can be such a pain. I’m so glad I don’t know anyone who’s, you know, actually like that.” You say through grit teeth, just barely holding back aggression, and in the corner of your vision, the subtle flash of surprise in Leona’s face only encourages you to continue. ”Imagine if like, the Magift team had this sort of player in it… the club would be done for.”

They stare at you with wide eyes, having very much picked up on the aggression. The entire room is silent, you refuse to break eye contact, arms firmly crossed. ”Well, I mean…” The student stammers, but then, Leona himself speaks up for once. ”Did you not get her message? You need me to tell you to shut up instead?” He snaps, and they frantically shake their head, eyes fixed on the ground. You feel pride swelling in your chest, almost unable to hold back your smile.

”You know, Herbivore, if I needed a bodyguard I’d already have one.” He tells you later, in that same day. His tone has that snarky edge that feels like his default, but it’s much less pronounced than usual. You can even see a sort of softness in his eyes while he tries to play it cool. But needing and deserving are two different things, you think. As interactions like these repeat, with you defending him every time, you hope your message fully gets through to him, one day.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #lis writing

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rosiecosy · 1 day ago

Text

the joker

(seventeen x reader)

thank you to the anon who requested this! i hope you enjoy!

"welcome back to another episode of going seventeen!"

the staff's voice boomed through the speakers as the members sat in their seats, waiting for today's game to be announced.

"i swear if it's carnival again, i'm leaving," jeonghan muttered, slumping in his seat.

everyone not-so-quietly agreed. but before the complaints could continue, the staff revealed the game.

mafia.

with a secret role.

silence.

"what kind of secret role?" jeonghan asked, already thinking of ways to cheat.

the staff handed out the role cards—one mafia, one doctor, one detective, the civilians, and one joker.

"what does the joker do?" dino asked.

the staff grinned. "the joker wins alone. they don’t care if the mafia or civilians win—as long as they survive."

the members turned to look at each other.

"oh," woozi said. "so you want us to die."

round one

they started discussing immediately.

"i think it’s hoshi," vernon said.

"what?!"

"you’re being too loud."

"i’m always loud!"

"exactly," vernon deadpanned.

hoshi sulked. "you guys suck."

meanwhile, she stayed silent. she wasn’t mafia. she wasn’t a civilian.

she was the joker.

which meant she had one goal—survive.

and what better way to survive than to act completely, painfully average?

so she did what any normal civilian would do—she accused mingyu.

"mingyu looks suspicious."

mingyu’s jaw dropped. "i literally just breathed."

"exactly," seungcheol said, nodding. "too calm."

mingyu groaned. "i hate this game."

and just like that, he got eliminated.

round two

the next morning, the game resumed. when they opened their eyes, they saw joshua sitting quietly with his arms crossed.

"wait…" dino furrowed his brows. "are you—"

joshua sighed. "yeah, i’m dead."

seungkwan gasped. "who killed joshua?!"

woozi rolled his eyes. "obviously, the mafia."

"wow, they really went for an easy target," jeonghan muttered, sipping his tea.

joshua turned to glare at him. "excuse me?"

she sat back, watching. she didn’t care who won—as long as she wasn’t eliminated.

so she did something risky.

"guys… what if there’s no mafia?" she said suddenly.

the room fell silent.

seungkwan gasped. "what are you saying?!"

"i mean, what if it’s all a trick? what if the staff just told us there was a mafia but secretly… there isn’t one?"

chaos. immediate chaos.

dino: "huh?!"

woozi: "shut up."

seungcheol: "oh my god."

jeonghan: "wait… that’s actually genius."

and just like that, they forgot about her.

round three

it was down to four people—her, seungcheol, jeonghan, and seungkwan.

one mafia. one civilian. one detective.

and her—the joker.

she needed one more person to go before the final round.

so she turned to jeonghan and whispered,

"it’s seungcheol."

jeonghan’s eyes narrowed.

he turned to seungkwan. "it’s seungcheol."

seungcheol: "what?!"

"he’s been too quiet."

"that’s just my personality?!"

seungkwan nodded. "true. he’s always the fake leader in mafia."

seungcheol got eliminated.

she smiled.

one step closer to victory.

final round

three left.

jeonghan. seungkwan. her.

one mafia. one civilian. one joker.

seungkwan squinted. "wait… who’s lying?"

jeonghan pointed at her. "it’s her."

she gasped. "you’re really gonna betray me like this?"

"you literally started this whole thing!"

seungkwan turned to her. "are you mafia?"

she gave him the most innocent look ever. "do i look like a liar?"

"…yes."

"…fair."

jeonghan sighed. "look. let’s be logical."

"oh my god," woozi mumbled from the ghost section.

jeonghan continued. "if i was mafia, would i have gotten rid of seungcheol?"

"yes," she said.

jeonghan blinked. "wait—"

too late.

seungkwan eliminated him.

the staff clapped. "congratulations! the civilians win—"

"actually."

the staff paused.

she grinned.

"i was the joker."

seungkwan froze. "wait… does that mean…"

"she won," woozi groaned.

jeonghan looked personally offended. "you backstabbed me."

she shrugged. "that’s the game."

seungkwan fell to the floor. "i can’t believe this."

the members screamed. mingyu threw a pillow at her. jeonghan stormed off.

but all she did was sit back, smile, and say,

"well… see you next episode."

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wrttenbyhan · 3 days ago

Text

midnight comforts

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :

scared!fem reader x comforting boyfriend!han jisung

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :

i wasn't ignoring you guys - the next thing i was working on was taking way too long so i decided to make this while you wait - also follow my instagram hanswish! i follow back ~

han always did more than he could handle. he gave you extra presents on special occasions, made sure to give you lots of hugs and kisses everyday and made time to listen to your problems.

you sometimes thought it was too much, but he would always say that it was fine and that he wanted to do this, he wanted to do it for you. you still think that he does a lot either way.

you had a nightmare. han screamed at you to leave and never come back. it felt so real so that when you woke up, you started to cry.

han stirred and woke up, annoyed about being interrupted in his relaxing slumber. but when he saw you crying, his heart broke and he held you close.

“oh you poor thing.. what’s up?”

you tell him the nightmare you just had and kept sobbing into his shirt. he ran his fingers through your hair and sighed.

“it was just a dream, yeah? just breathe,”

he inhaled and exhaled slowly and loudly so you can hear,

“just like that. you’re doing so well. do you want tea? or perhaps some warm milk?”

you don’t respond, the only reply han got was a few sniffles and a small sob. he sighed once more and held you close, rubbing your back gently, trying his best not to mess up.

“shh.. you’re alright, love. everything is fine. i’m here. it was just a nightmare. i would never do anything to hurt you.”

he pressed a few kisses to your head before whispering,

“come on.. let’s get up. you want warm milk, right?”

you nodded and he nodded as well. he shifted out of the bed, slowly standing up. he looks back at you and holds out a hand.

you took han’s warm hand, still sniffling, and he guided you out of bed and into the kitchen,. the entire house was quiet and dark so no one was apparently awake besides you two at the moment.

“sit here for me while i prepare your milk, okay?”

he led you to the barstool and patted your back, going to the cabinets to make the warm milk for you.

you watch as han worked quickly and with ease, heating up the milk and pouring it into a mug he bought for you on your first date with him.

he placed the warm milk in front of you and sits in the stool next to you, his body turned so he was facing you.

“drink up, slowly now..”

he watched you drank the warm milk with a small and reassuring smile on his face. he reached out and places a hand on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze.

“do you feel better, at least a little?”

you nod and place the now empty glass in front of you. he smiles once seeing you finish it, but notices that you weren't saying anything.

he looked you over and saw tears starting to well up in your eyes again. he sighs and gives you a look filled with melancholy.

"you know that that nightmare wasn't real, right? i would never tell you to leave.. or yell at you at matter.”

you nod, but the vivid memory of han screaming at you was still clear as day in your mind, and so you started to sob even more.

he watched as your eyes slowly met his as he gently held your face. he looked at you with sad eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

“are you scared of losing me or something? is that why you're crying?”

you slowly nod as tears continued to flow down your cheeks. your cheeks felt warm and you had tears all over the sleeve of your hoodie.

han tutted softly and leaned in closer so that your faces were now inches apart.

“oh baby.. i would never want to lose you. you know that, right? i would never want you to go and i’m not going anywhere, love. don’t cry..”

his shirt was now damp but he didn’t care. he continued to rub your back, gently rocking you back and forth, his chin resting on the top of your head. he was trying to soothe you with his comforting and warm words, not knowing what else to do to stop your tears.

“you know what?”

he says, suddenly standing up. his arms snaked around your waist. he started to sway, side to side, to and fro, with only the refrigerator light for you to see, the only music being the hum of the heater and the passing cars.

your arms find themselves around his neck. he smiles tiredly, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you two slow danced.

he lifts your chin and looks you in the eye.

“you good, baby?”

when you nod, he smiles softly, and continues swaying. it was quiet. but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was actually quite nice. just him and you, in the kitchen, slow dancing at three in the morning. he burrows his face in the crook of your neck, leaving feathery kisses every so often.

he hums, the vibration from his throat sending a shiver down your spine. he was definitely tired. but he wasn't going to go back to sleep until you were in the bed with him again.

he pulls away for a moment, lifting your chin once more. he cups your cheek, and kisses your forehead gently.

“baby, c’mon. let’s go back to bed.”

he groans quietly, he wanted to go back to bed. but he wouldn't force you if you wanted to keep dancing. he continues to sway you to and fro, and he hums again. the melody was soothing, and it was the perfect lullaby to get you tired again. he rubs your back in circles, and nuzzles his face in your neck again

he lifts his head up and looks at you with a smirk plastered on his face. you two lock eyes, and he stares at you with a look of adoration. he then closes his eyes in a tired manner.

“please, let’s go back to bed..”

he murmurs softly, and you sigh, giving in. the thought of a nice warm bed with your boyfriend is just too good to say no to.

you nod and han drags you over to the bedroom.

he holds you close, his head on top of yours as he hums softly. he rubs your back in slow, smooth motions. after a few moments of silence, he whispers.

“did you want to talk about it some more..?”

“no, i’m good now.”

he lets out a soft sigh of relief, continuing to rub your back.

“well... if you ever need anything, just wake me up, yeah? even if it’s four am in the goddamn morning.”

he chuckles softly.

“i’m serious, you can wake me up anytime.”

he shifts a bit so that he's able to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hold on you tightening a little. you sigh and mumble,

“i love you, han.”

he smiles warmly, his heart feeling full.

“i love you too.”

with one hand, he gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up. he kisses your forehead, both of your cheeks and then your lips, each one slow and filled with so much love.

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debussy42 · 1 day ago

Text

"straight or curly?"

Guys, I'm not gonna lie. This whole nonsense started with me just debating whether or not I should straighten or curl my hair today. Wow, I miss my man Levi. Maybe it's with Valentine's day coming up, but I needed some emotionally charged, dancing, jealousy, barely restrained Levi in my life. Hope y'all enjoy ◡̈

wc: 8k WHEWWWWWWW

"Sasha. Mikasa. Should I straighten my hair today, or curl it? It's the weekend, and I want to try something new."

Mikasa, already dressed and pulling on her boots, barely glances up before saying, “Straight.”

Sasha, who’s still lounging on her bed with no urgency whatsoever, tilts her head in thought. “Curl it. It looks cuter that way.”

You hum, turning back to the mirror, lightly running your fingers through your hair. “Hmm. Mikasa, why straight?”

She shrugs. “It’s easier.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, do something fun with it?”

You smirk at their contrast and tap your fingers against the wooden vanity. “Jean’s going to say straight. Connie’s going to say whatever makes me look stupid.”

Mikasa ties her scarf, uninterested. “Jean will say whatever makes you look ‘mature.’”

Sasha snorts. “He’s been watching too many noblewomen walk through town.”

You shake your head, grinning at their banter, then turn back to the mirror. “Alright, decision made.”

Mikasa raises a brow. “Which one?”

You give a dramatic pause before flashing them a mischievous grin. “I’ll ask Levi.”

Sasha chokes on air. “Wha—are you insane?”

Mikasa actually looks up at that, blinking. “You’re going to ask the Captain?”

You shrug innocently, gathering your comb. “He’s got an eye for detail. Might as well make use of it.”

Sasha buries her face into her pillow, groaning. “Oh my god, you love testing death, don’t you?”

Mikasa, while less dramatic, still watches you carefully. “You’re comfortable with him, sure. But that’s still Levi. You really think he’s going to care about how you do your hair?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I look ridiculous, he won’t hesitate to tell me.”

Sasha peeks out from her pillow, stifling laughter. “That’s... actually true.”

Mikasa just shakes her head. “I’m not stopping you. But don’t be surprised if he tells you you’re wasting his time.”

You flash them both a grin before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with verdict.”

—

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the halls as you make your way toward the common area, boots clicking softly against the wooden floors. Most of the squad is still waking up, scattered across various spaces, engaged in quiet conversations or lazy weekend tasks.

And then, you spot Levi.

He’s near the windows, arms crossed, watching the drizzle outside with his usual unreadable expression. The early light casts a soft glow against his features, the sharp angles of his face somehow looking even sharper in the muted tones of the morning.

You take a breath, then casually stride up next to him, standing just close enough that he acknowledges your presence with a glance but doesn’t immediately turn away.

“Captain,” you say, tilting your head.

Levi’s gaze flickers to you, his brows drawing together slightly. “What?”

You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, smirking. “Should I straighten or curl my hair today?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, weighted pause.

Levi blinks once. Then twice. His expression is as blank as ever, but there’s a split second where you think—just maybe—you’ve stunned him into silence.

“…You woke up just to ask me that?”

You cross your arms, feigning seriousness. “This is an important decision, Captain. I need guidance. You have high standards, so I figured you’d have an opinion.”

Levi exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”

You bite back a grin. “That’s not an answer, though.”

He finally looks at you fully, scanning you with the same critical gaze he uses when inspecting gear, paperwork, or a particularly irritating recruit.

“Straight,” he says flatly. “Less maintenance.”

You huff. “That’s what Mikasa said.”

Levi shrugs. “Then she’s right.”

You tap your chin, pretending to contemplate. “Sasha said curls.”

“Tch. Of course she did.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “You really don’t like being pulled into nonsense, do you?”

Levi scoffs lightly, already turning back to the window. “And yet, somehow, you keep pulling me in.”

You grin. “It’s a talent.”

Levi exhales again, shaking his head. “Straighten it. But if you’re going to keep bothering me about it, just shave it all off and save everyone the trouble.”

You do laugh at that, shaking your head as you step back. “Alright, alright. Decision made. Thanks, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t reply, but as you turn to leave, you swear you catch something—the barest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

And somehow, that feels like more of a victory than anything else.

You straighten your posture before giving a firm nod, shifting away from the relaxed banter you nearly let slip. “Thank you, Captain.” Your voice is lighter now, but the respect is there—solid, unwavering, the way it should be when addressing him.

Levi doesn’t reply, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his expression tells you that he noticed the shift. He doesn’t need praise, doesn’t care for pleasantries, but he does expect discipline.

And you do respect him—his authority, his position, the sheer presence he carries that makes the rest of the squad tread carefully around him. That weight isn’t something you take lightly.

With your decision made, you turn on your heel and make your way back toward the barracks, catching the eyes of a few cadets as you pass. Some of them look at you like you’ve just done something insane, while others avoid making eye contact entirely, as if speaking to Levi so casually might have put you on a death sentence.

When you step back into the barracks, Sasha and Mikasa are still exactly where you left them, Sasha now halfway through a snack she definitely didn’t have before.

Mikasa eyes you first. “Straight?”

You smirk. “Straight.”

Sasha lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course he’d say that.”

You shrug as you make your way to the small mirror on the vanity, pulling out your comb. “Well, you did say he has high standards. Might as well follow through.”

Mikasa finishes tying the last knot on her gear before grabbing her scarf. “I don’t understand why you’d ask him in the first place.”

You glance at her through the mirror, lips twitching. “Because he’d tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear.”

Sasha hums thoughtfully. “That is true… Still, brave of you to just walk up to him like that.”

You roll your eyes, running the comb through your hair. “He’s my Captain, not some untouchable ghost. You all act like he’s going to snap my neck for asking a question.”

Sasha gives you an incredulous look. “He would if you tested him enough.”

Mikasa, though less dramatic, simply says, “You’re more comfortable with him than the rest of us are.”

You pause at that, the weight of her words settling over you.

It’s true.

The others hold Levi at a distance—not just because of his rank, but because of who he is. Humanity’s Strongest. A leader, an authority, a presence that demands respect with the sheer force of his being. You’ve seen how they sit up straighter, how they quiet down when he enters a room, how the air around him shifts the atmosphere entirely.

And yet, with you, the distance is different. You still respect him, still heed his orders, but you don’t shrink away under his stare. You step forward, meet his gaze, hold your ground—not recklessly, not without care, but with something else. Something more solid.

You shake off the thought, focusing back on your reflection as you finish smoothing down the last strand of hair.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “it’s not my fault you all look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever he’s in the room.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue, simply picking up her gear and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

Sasha gives you one last lingering look, then grins. “If you ever do cross a line, just give me your rations before you get executed.”

You snort. “Noted.”

As Sasha follows after Mikasa, you take one last glance at yourself before heading toward the door as well, rolling your shoulders back as you mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Even if you are more comfortable with the Captain, that doesn’t mean you’ll ever forget who he is.

Levi Ackerman.

Your Captain. Your superior.

The strongest soldier alive.

And somehow, someone you can’t seem to stop seeking out.

—

The morning air is crisp as you step outside, the lingering chill of the earlier rain still clinging to the air. The ground is damp beneath your boots, the scent of wet earth and wood mixing with the sharp freshness of the wind rolling over the fields beyond the walls. The sun is beginning to break through the thinning clouds, casting golden streaks across the headquarters, its light catching on the dew that clings to the edges of the grass.

You inhale deeply, letting the coolness of it wake you up fully. The barracks are already alive with movement—cadets milling about, some heading toward training fields, others finishing up morning duties. The sound of voices, of boots against gravel, of birds stirring in the trees beyond, all mix together into the low, steady hum of a world still in motion.

Sasha and Mikasa are waiting for you a few feet away, Mikasa adjusting the straps of her gear with practiced efficiency, Sasha idly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s trying to generate enough energy to get through the day. She notices you first, squinting at you with exaggerated focus before nodding in approval.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. The Captain was right. The straight hair suits you.”

You snort, walking up to them. “You sound so betrayed.”

“I am betrayed,” she huffs dramatically. “But only because I wanted to be right.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “It was a practical answer. Levi only ever gives practical answers.”

You hum, knowing that’s true, but there’s something about the way he’d looked at you when he said it—how he’d assessed you with that sharp gaze of his, how he’d told you without hesitation, straighten it—that lingers in your thoughts more than it should.

But before you can dwell on it too much, the sound of boots approaching pulls your attention.

Erwin and Levi are walking through the yard, their presence commanding without effort. There’s something about the way the air shifts when they’re together—Erwin with his calm, calculated confidence, and Levi, sharp-edged and observant, moving with quiet precision.

Cadets straighten as they pass, conversations dulling slightly out of instinct, as if the weight of leadership alone is enough to pull people to attention. Even Jean, who normally has some sort of wisecrack ready, keeps his mouth firmly shut as they approach.

You, on the other hand, watch them with interest. Erwin is speaking in low tones, his expression unreadable, while Levi listens, his eyes narrowed slightly, his arms crossed as he walks in measured steps beside him.

But then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Levi’s gaze flickers—to you.

It’s brief, but it lingers just long enough to be intentional. A silent acknowledgment. A glance that feels heavier than just casual observation.

Your heart stirs in a way you don’t fully understand.

You don’t break eye contact right away. You hold it, just for a second longer than necessary, before nodding in quiet greeting, maintaining the formality expected of you.

Levi doesn’t nod back, but there’s a shift in his expression, something so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice. And then he looks away, back to Erwin, as if nothing had happened at all.

The moment passes, but it leaves something behind.

Mikasa notices. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices. The slight tilt of her head, the way her gaze flickers between you and Levi before she simply adjusts her gear again, tells you that much.

Sasha, however, being Sasha, definitely notices.

She leans in slightly, voice hushed but teasing. “That was a look.”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. “That was nothing.”

Sasha smirks. “Sure it was.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading beneath your ribs is undeniable.

—

The morning drifts into training, the sky fully clearing as the sun rises higher, warming the damp earth below. The air is filled with the rhythmic whoosh of ODM gear, the sharp snap of cables latching onto wooden poles, the occasional grunt of effort as cadets push themselves through the drills.

You move through the routine with practiced ease, the familiar weight of your gear settling into your movements, your muscles burning in that satisfying way that comes with hard work. The wind rushes past your ears as you propel yourself forward, the world blurring for a moment before you land solidly on the next platform, inhaling sharply before launching off again.

Training days like this—ones where you can feel your strength, your skill, the sheer power of your body moving through the air—are the ones that remind you why you fight. Why you push.

You fall into rhythm with the others, weaving between them, keeping pace as you scan for your next maneuver. Jean and Eren are bickering between swings, Sasha is somehow eating mid-air, and Mikasa—unsurprisingly—is moving effortlessly, her form almost unnatural in its efficiency.

And then there’s Levi.

His presence alone changes the air.

He’s not just watching—he’s analyzing, assessing the squad with sharp, unwavering focus. His movements are controlled, effortless, the way he balances his weight even as he stands observing more a testament to his skill than anything else.

Every once in a while, he calls out adjustments. A sharp, no-nonsense command. A correction before anyone even has a chance to mess up.

And when his voice cuts through the field—low, firm, carrying more authority in a single word than most could in an entire speech—people listen.

You land solidly on a nearby platform, catching your breath for just a second before you hear it.

“Your form’s getting sloppy.”

You turn sharply.

Levi is watching you, arms crossed, gaze heavy.

You blink, surprised at first, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s not sloppy.”

Levi raises a brow. “You hesitated before your last swing.”

You huff, rolling your shoulders back, feeling the weight of your gear settle evenly again. “Only because Jean was in my way.”

Jean, from several feet away, throws up his hands. “Why is my name always being thrown around?”

Levi doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention stays on you.

“You’re letting yourself get distracted,” he says evenly, gaze unwavering. “Fix it.”

Your jaw tightens slightly.

You could argue, you want to argue, but you know better. Levi doesn’t say things for the sake of it. If he’s calling you out, it’s because he knows you can do better.

And that bothers you more than anything.

You nod once, sharp. “Understood, Captain.”

Levi watches you for a second longer before giving the smallest nod of approval. And then, just like that, his attention shifts—back to the squad, back to the broader picture, back to everything else that needs his attention.

You take a slow breath before launching yourself forward again, this time sharper, faster.

And though he doesn’t look at you again, you know he’s still watching.

And that’s enough to push you harder.

—

It was the end of the short lesson as you were released for the weekend.

“Guys,” You fall back into step with the girls, absentmindedly stroking a piece of your hair, “what if he only chose straight hair because it’s more convenient, not because it necessarily looked better on me? How can I know?”

Sasha groans dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “Oh my god, you’re still thinking about this?”

Mikasa, walking beside you with her gear slung over her shoulder, gives you a sidelong glance. “Levi doesn’t say things just to say them. If he said straight, he meant it.”

You let out a thoughtful hum, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. “But what if he only said it because it’s easier, not because it actually looked better?”

Sasha snorts. “Then I guess you’ll just have to change it up and see if he reacts.”

You blink at her. “What, like curl my hair next time and test his response?”

Mikasa shakes her head as if she can already see where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sasha grins mischievously. “I do.”

You narrow your eyes in thought, considering.

Mikasa sighs. “He’s our Captain, not some noble at a ballroom.”

“Exactly,” you quip, smirking. “Which means if he does notice, it’ll mean something.”

Mikasa doesn’t respond, just presses her lips into a thin line as if choosing to disengage entirely.

Sasha, however, nudges you with her elbow. “Alright, next mission: Operation Look Pretty and See if Captain Notices.”

You huff a laugh. “That is not what we’re calling it.”

Sasha grins. “Too late. It’s already official.”

Mikasa sighs again, rubbing her temple. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

You smirk but don’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now. But deep down, curiosity lingers.

Because, honestly?

You kind of do want to see if he notices.

—

“I mean, we are going out tonight to celebrate Jean’s birthday. I can accidentally slip by him with my curled hair to see his reaction…” You muse thoughtfully as you get change out of uniform and into more casual clothing, appreciating the cool breeze that hits your legs as you twirl in a skirt.

Mikasa groans, rubbing her temple like she’s already regretting being part of this conversation. “That’s ridiculous.”

Sasha, on the other hand, lights up. “No, that’s genius.”

You grin, brushing through your hair as you sit on the edge of your bed. “Is it though?”

“Yes,” Sasha says immediately. “Because listen, if Levi doesn’t care, he won’t react. But if he notices—even a little—that means he actually has an opinion on how you look.” She gestures dramatically. “And that would mean something.”

Mikasa exhales through her nose. “Or it just means he’s observant and has an opinion on everything.”

You hum thoughtfully, tying your hair into a loose ponytail for now. “That’s why it’s a test, Mikasa. For science.”

Mikasa stares at you blankly. “That is not how science works.”

Sasha claps her hands together. “Alright, so plan’s simple—tonight, you curl your hair, we go out for Jean’s birthday, and at some point, you just... happen to slip by the Captain.”

You nod, amused at how invested Sasha has become. “Exactly. Totally casual. No effort at all.”

Mikasa shakes her head, standing up and adjusting the straps on her uniform. “I’m not encouraging this. If you want to waste your time overanalyzing Levi’s non-reaction, that’s on you.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s called gathering data, Mikasa.”

You laugh, standing as well. “Exactly. And besides, it’s just for fun.”

Mikasa gives you a look that says you are all insufferable, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she merely slings her gear over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both outside.”

As she leaves, Sasha leans in conspiratorially. “She’s totally curious too, she just won’t admit it.”

You smirk. “Oh, definitely.”

Sasha grins. “Alright, then. Let’s make Jean’s birthday party very interesting.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of training, chores, and preparation for the evening. By the time the sun dips low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and violet, the atmosphere around headquarters shifts into something lighter, more relaxed. It’s rare to have a night like this—where everyone can unwind, even just for a few hours, without the weight of duty pressing down on them.

You stand in front of the small mirror in the barracks, fingers deftly working through your hair as you curl it, piece by piece. The heat from the iron brushes against your fingertips, and you carefully shape each strand, letting the soft waves fall naturally over your shoulders.

Mikasa, seated on her bunk, pretends not to watch but definitely watches. She says nothing, but the occasional glance in the mirror’s reflection gives her away.

Sasha, on the other hand, is fully invested, sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. This was definitely the right call.”

You smirk. “Told you.”

She grins. “You’re about to ruin a man’s whole perception of himself.”

You snort, shaking your head as you adjust the last curl. “You’re making it sound like a battle strategy.”

Sasha shrugs. “If you win, I say it counts.”

Mikasa finally sighs. “It’s ridiculous to think Levi would even care about something like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at her through the mirror. “Then there’s no harm in testing it, right?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t argue.

Satisfied, you stand up, smoothing your hands over your outfit—something casual but presentable, enough to blend in while still feeling put-together. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, but you shake it off, reminding yourself that this is not some grand event.

It’s just Jean’s birthday.

And Levi noticing or not noticing your hair is just... extra data.

—

The town is alive with warmth and movement, the faint glow of lanterns casting golden light against cobblestone streets. It’s a stark contrast to headquarters—where the air is always tense, where everything is lined with purpose and duty. Here, laughter spills from tavern doors, the clinking of glasses and distant music drifting through the air.

The squad gathers outside one of the better-kept taverns, waiting for stragglers before heading in. Jean stands at the center of it all, basking in the attention of his birthday, grinning as Connie pretends to give a heartfelt speech about his immense wisdom and contributions to humanity.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you adjust your jacket. “You’re laying it on thick, Connie.”

Connie throws up his hands. “It’s his birthday, let me lie to the guy.”

Jean scoffs, shoving him lightly. “At least someone is recognizing my greatness.”

Mikasa stands beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. Sasha is already trying to drag Reiner and Bertholdt into a bet over who can drink the most before passing out. The atmosphere is light, easy—exactly the kind of night you all need.

And then, just as you’re about to head inside, you feel it.

A shift.

The kind of awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough—Levi is approaching from the other end of the street. He’s walking with Erwin and Hange, both of whom are engaged in quiet conversation. But Levi—Levi is quiet as always, sharp eyes scanning the gathered squad as he moves.

Your heart does a stupid little lurch in your chest.

It’s not a big deal. You know that. But suddenly, every single curl feels too obvious, every strand of hair placed too deliberately.

Sasha subtly elbows you, voice low. “Showtime.”

You swallow, ignoring the ridiculousness of it all as you casually—very casually—turn your head and pretend to adjust your sleeve, making it look like you just so happen to be standing directly in Levi’s line of sight.

He slows slightly as he approaches, his eyes flickering over the group in his usual assessing way. You watch carefully, scanning for any sign of reaction—anything at all—but his face remains unreadable.

And then—his gaze lands on you.

It’s brief. Just a flicker. But something shifts.

His sharp eyes drag over your hair—not just in passing, but with intent. The tiniest hesitation, the kind that would be imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.

You hold your breath.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s gone.

His expression smooths back into neutrality, his attention snapping forward again as he brushes past you with no comment, following Erwin and Hange into the tavern.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Sasha’s expectant stare burning into the side of your face.

“Well?” she whispers, practically vibrating. “Did he notice?”

You press your lips together, considering.

“…He paused.”

Sasha grabs your arm. “OH, MY GOD.”

Mikasa groans, already walking ahead. “I refuse to be part of this.”

Jean, oblivious to everything, is already inside, basking in the attention of his own celebration.

You, however, linger for just a second longer, glancing at the door Levi disappeared into.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it was everything.

But either way—he paused.

And that was more than enough.

—

The warmth of the tavern hits you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. The scent of old wood, spiced ale, and freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a drunken patron. The flickering candlelight casts everything in a dim, golden glow, the kind that makes the edges of reality feel softer, less urgent.

Jean, reveling in the rare occasion of being the center of attention, immediately heads toward an empty table near the back, where the rest of your squad is already gathering. Connie slings an arm around his shoulders, teasing him about how old he’s getting, while Sasha is already scanning the menu, clearly prioritizing food over conversation.

You settle into a seat across from Mikasa, who looks less interested in the celebration and more like she’s simply here to make sure Eren doesn’t do anything stupid. You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I bet you five rations Eren ends up in a bar fight before the night is over.”

Mikasa doesn’t even blink. “I’m not betting against something that’s guaranteed to happen.”

You laugh, but before you can respond, the door swings open again, and your attention flickers instinctively to the entrance.

Levi steps inside, following Erwin and Hange as they make their way toward a separate table reserved for officers. Unlike the rest of you—who have already started loosening up, the casual energy of the tavern slipping into your movements—Levi remains the same. Composed. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.

But you don’t miss the way his sharp gaze subtly sweeps over the room, assessing the layout, cataloging who’s here, where the exits are. It’s instinctual, second nature. Even in a space meant for relaxation, he’s still a soldier first.

He moves toward his seat, and for a second, just a brief second, his gaze flickers in your direction.

You feel the weight of it, even from across the room.

It’s unreadable, just like before. But you know he saw.

Your heart does that stupid little skip again, and you force yourself to look away, suppressing the smug smile threatening to form on your lips.

Sasha, however, does not suppress hers. She leans in close, voice hushed but practically vibrating with excitement. “He paused again.”

You shake your head. “It could have been anything.”

“It wasn’t anything.”

Mikasa sighs, already regretting sitting next to you two. “If you two spent half this energy on training, you’d both be Captain-level by now.”

Sasha grins. “Okay, but watching this unfold is so much more entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm down the unnecessary giddiness that’s settled in your chest. It’s stupid—you know it’s stupid—but something about Levi’s pause feels like a tiny, unspoken victory.

Still, you shake it off. The night isn’t about that. It’s about Jean, about unwinding, about letting yourself be a person instead of just a soldier for once.

And so, you let the conversation around you pull you in. You tease Jean about his dramatic speeches, you steal a bite of Sasha’s food when she isn’t looking, you let yourself sink into the warmth of camaraderie, the normalcy of it all.

Time moves easily, drinks are passed around, and the sound of laughter grows louder as the night wears on.

Until—

“You’re drinking too fast.”

The voice is low, firm, unmistakable.

Your muscles stiffen slightly before you even see him, but when you glance up, sure enough, Levi is standing beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

Your glass, half-full with whatever cheap ale Sasha had convinced you to try, is still in your hand. You raise an eyebrow, tilting it slightly. “I’ve had one drink, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t budge. “And I’ve seen what happens when you lot get carried away.”

Around you, the others fall quiet, the easygoing atmosphere from moments ago shifting under Levi’s presence. Even Jean—who, on his own birthday, should technically be allowed to act out a little—sits up straighter, eyes flickering toward you with mild concern.

You swallow, knowing that Levi is right, that the last thing you need is to be unfocused, careless.

Still, you offer a small, placating smile. “I hear you, Captain. Don’t worry—I know my limits.”

Levi watches you for a moment longer, gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet acknowledgment, before stepping back. “Tch. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You nod, and with that, Levi finally retreats, making his way back toward his own table.

The second he’s out of earshot, Sasha lets out a long breath. “Wow. He really keeps an eye on you, huh?”

Jean shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or be impressed you can get away with talking back.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just… clarifying.”

Mikasa hums. “He didn’t call anyone else out. Just you.”

That gives you pause.

You glance back toward Levi’s table, where he’s now sitting with Erwin and Hange, sipping from a teacup instead of anything stronger. His posture remains the same—composed, indifferent—but his awareness of the room is ever-present.

And maybe, just maybe, his awareness of you is a little sharper than the rest.

You turn back to your friends, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into it.”

Sasha smirks. “Are we?”

You don’t answer.

You just take another sip of water, ignoring the way your heart betrays you with a quiet, persistent rhythm.

—

The world feels a little softer around the edges, the golden glow of lanterns casting everything in a dreamlike haze. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin, not overwhelming, but just enough—enough to dull the weight of the past week, enough to make the music sound richer, enough to let yourself exist in the moment without overthinking it.

The tavern is alive now, laughter spilling over the strum of instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor in time with the lively rhythm. Around you, your friends are caught up in the revelry—Connie and Sasha are engaged in some ridiculous footwork competition, Jean is attempting to twirl Historia around and failing miserably, and even Mikasa, ever composed, allows herself a small smile as she watches the chaos unfold.

And then—your hands are caught in someone else’s.

You blink, surprised, as a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—takes your hand and pulls you into the movement of the dance floor. His grip is firm, his confidence easy, and before you can even register it, you’re being spun into the rhythm of the music.

You offer a polite smile, adjusting to the steps as he twirls you once, twice. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and relaxed, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself be just another person in a tavern, caught in the joy of the night.

But then—

His hold tightens.

Subtly, but noticeably.

His hand lingers just a little too long on your waist, his grip just a bit firmer than necessary.

Your instincts, dulled by the pleasant haze in your mind, take a moment to catch up. You keep your smile in place, but a quiet unease settles in your stomach. You try to subtly shift your weight, to create some distance between you, but he moves with you, maintaining the closeness.

A polite exit. You just need a polite exit.

You clear your throat lightly, offering a small laugh. “Alright, I think I need a break—”

The man chuckles, still holding you in place. “Come on, one more dance.”

Something in his tone makes your skin prickle—not outright threatening, but entitled, as if your willingness to dance once meant you owed him more.

Your smile tightens. “I should really—”

And then, before you have the chance to finish your sentence, the air changes.

A presence—sharp, heavy, unmistakable—settles behind you.

The man stiffens slightly, his grip loosening just enough for you to slip a step back, as a new voice cuts through the space between you, low and edged with quiet authority.

“Let her go.”

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Levi stands there, expression unreadable, eyes dark and steady. His posture is relaxed—but in that way, the way that suggests he is anything but. His arms are crossed, but the tension in his shoulders is subtle, the kind you’d only notice if you knew him.

And you do.

The man—who had been all confidence and charm just moments ago—hesitates, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He sizes Levi up, as if debating whether or not to push his luck.

He makes the wrong choice.

“She was dancing with me,” the man says, lifting his hands slightly in false innocence, though his tone holds a thread of defiance. “Didn’t seem to mind.”

A sharp, quiet pause.

Levi tilts his head ever so slightly, eyes flickering between you and the man with chilling precision. His voice, when he speaks again, is calm.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The weight of those words settles between them, heavy, immovable.

Something flickers in the man’s face—hesitation, irritation, then a quiet understanding that this is not a fight he wants to pick.

With a huff, he raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she had a guard dog.”

You feel Levi tense, just for a split second.

Before anything can escalate, you step forward, offering the man a sharp, polite smile. “Thank you for the dance,” you say evenly, voice firm. “But I’m done now.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, then finally, he scoffs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

The tension lingers, like a blade just barely sheathed.

You exhale slowly, turning fully toward Levi.

His gaze sweeps over you—quick, assessing, making sure you’re unharmed. When he’s satisfied, he clicks his tongue. “You need to be more careful.”

You cross your arms. “I was being careful.”

Levi raises a brow. “Didn’t look like it.”

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was handling it, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face again, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally—

“I know.”

It’s not an admission of fault, not quite. But it is an acknowledgment.

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet weight behind those words.

Before you can say anything, he exhales sharply and steps back. “Oi. You’re reckless.”

You smirk. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shakes his head. But there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something lingering beneath the usual exasperation.

Something like relief.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one who noticed the way he paused tonight.

—

“Well Captain?” You smile, laughing as you sidestep to avoid Sasha twirling with a recently hired chef that you had seen around a lot more recently. “Isn’t the gentleman supposed to offer the lady a dance? Awfully rude to step in without an intention of following through, don’t you think?”

Levi exhales sharply through his nose, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression. The tavern is alive around you—figures moving in vibrant swirls of laughter and motion, the wooden floor shaking beneath the weight of stomping boots, the rich hum of music weaving through the air.

But here, in this moment, it’s just you and him.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Come on, Captain. You can’t step in all dramatic like that and not at least pretend to play along.”

Levi doesn’t move, but there’s something assessing in his gaze, something like quiet calculation behind those steel-gray eyes. You wonder if he’s thinking of an escape, a way to dismiss you with one of his usual deadpan remarks.

But then—

A hand.

Not grabbing, not demanding—just a simple extension. A silent answer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s brief, just a flicker of hesitation before his fingers brush yours, just enough to take your hand without giving anything away. His grip is firm, but there’s a carefulness to it, as if he’s aware of the weight behind the action, of the unspoken shift in the space between you.

And then—he moves.

Not in the showy, exaggerated way the others are throwing themselves into the music, but in a way that’s purely Levi—sharp, controlled, precise. His grip on your hand remains steady as he guides you through the steps, his other hand finding the small of your back, light but firm.

For a second, you forget everything else.

The alcohol, the laughter, the blurred movement of the world around you—it all fades into something distant, something inconsequential compared to the quiet gravity of him.

His touch is careful but certain, his movements seamless despite the clear reluctance in his expression. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable—it’s just that Levi Ackerman is not a man who does things without purpose.

And yet, here he is, following through.

You smile, leaning in just slightly, voice barely above the hum of the music. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

Levi scoffs lightly. "You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet.”

You laugh—really laugh, the warmth of it bubbling up in your chest, light and unrestrained. The sound earns you the barest flicker of something in his eyes—not quite amusement, but something close.

The moment stretches, neither of you breaking the rhythm, neither of you pulling away.

And for the first time that night, you’re certain of one thing:

Levi definitely noticed your hair.

The music swells around you, a lively, unrelenting current of sound and motion, but you barely register it. The tavern, the laughter, the blur of bodies dancing past—it all becomes background noise, a distant hum compared to the quiet weight of the moment unfolding between you and Levi.

His hand is steady against yours, his grip firm but never forceful. His other hand, resting lightly at the small of your back, holds no urgency, no demand—just quiet control, a careful presence. He moves with you in that same effortless way he fights—with intention, with precision, with the kind of quiet mastery that makes even the smallest of gestures feel deliberate.

And yet, for all his competence, you can feel the reluctance in him.

Not reluctance toward you, necessarily. But toward the situation. Toward the ease with which he’s letting this happen.

Toward the fact that he is here, dancing with you, indulging this moment when he so rarely indulges anything.

You can see it in the tension just barely visible in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ticks subtly, as if his own body is surprised by the fact that he’s still holding onto you.

You press your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You’re concentrating too much.”

Levi exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t dance.”

“You’re dancing right now.”

“Tch. You call this dancing?”

You grin, leaning in just enough that your words are meant only for him. “Well, you are holding me awfully close for someone who doesn’t dance, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t react immediately, doesn’t pull away or push you off with a sharp remark like you half-expect him to. Instead, his grip subtly adjusts—not tightening, not loosening, but shifting in a way that tells you he’s aware.

Aware of the closeness. Aware of the way your breath brushes faintly against his collar. Aware of the warmth of your body so near to his own.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—that minuscule shift in his fingers against yours, in the way his hand remains steady at your back, holding you just at the edge of something uncertain.

He doesn’t break the eye contact you didn’t even realize you had been holding.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice low, almost lost beneath the sound of music and laughter around you.

You smile. “And yet, here you are.”

Levi exhales, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as he adjusts his grip—so small a movement, so imperceptible, that you wonder if he even realizes he did it.

Or if he does, and just isn’t stopping himself.

The room spins slightly—not from the alcohol, not from the movement, but from the sheer weight of the moment, from the impossible tenderness that exists in the spaces between words, in the breaths you don’t take, in the lingering warmth of a touch that neither of you are pulling away from.

And for the first time since you pulled him into this, you realize something.

You’re testing him.

Not just to see if he noticed your hair, not just to push his limits, but to see if he will choose to let this moment exist.

If he will choose to let himself stay.

Your heart pounds as you take a breath. “Levi—”

A crash from the other side of the room interrupts you, followed by loud, drunken shouting.

Levi’s body tenses immediately, his hand at your back twitching as his head whips toward the commotion. The moment between you shatters instantly, replaced by sharp awareness, by the cold snap of duty.

He doesn’t say a word. He just lets go.

The loss of his touch is instant, like stepping into cold air after being wrapped in warmth. The shift is so sharp, so complete, that it almost makes you doubt whether the moment you just shared was real at all.

Levi steps back, his expression neutral again, unreadable as he scans the room, already assessing.

You swallow, forcing yourself to do the same—to shake it off, to pretend like your pulse isn’t still pounding in your ears, like the ghost of his hands on you isn’t still lingering on your skin.

He glances back at you, his gaze flickering over you once, checking—like he’s making sure you’re still steady, still standing, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the room.

“Stay here,” he mutters. And then, just like that, he’s gone, moving toward the source of the disturbance with the same effortless sharpness that makes him humanity’s strongest.

You watch him go, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

The music carries on, the tavern keeps spinning, but you remain rooted in place, heart still racing, the memory of his warmth still imprinted on your skin.

And for the first time tonight, you realize—

You don’t need Levi to say that he noticed you.

Because in the way he held onto you, even for just a moment—he already did.

—

You scan the room to see if any of your friends are in danger. After seeing them slowly making their way back to the corner table, you bunch up your skirt before striding across the room to Erwin. "Commander, what is it? Where's Captain? Squad Leader Hange? What are my orders, sir?"

You stand unflinching before him, but your heart beats thunderously, unsure of where the Captain went and if he'll be okay.

Erwin’s sharp blue eyes flicker down to you as you approach, his expression unreadable but steady, as always. The weight of command rests on his shoulders like a mantle, effortless in the way only a man like him can carry. He does not startle, does not seem surprised that you’ve come to him first, as if he expected you would.

His gaze scans over the tavern, over the shifting figures of soldiers and civilians alike, before settling back on you. “It was just a minor scuffle,” he says, voice calm, deliberate. “A few drunk patrons getting too comfortable around our cadets. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange are handling it.”

Your fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your skirt, heart still hammering in your chest. “Should I assist?”

Erwin studies you for a fraction longer than necessary before speaking. “No. The situation is under control.” A pause. “But it’s good that you came to me first.”

Your lips press together, trying to steady yourself. “It’s my duty.”

Erwin gives the smallest nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that you understand what it means to be a soldier, even in moments like this. Even with your pulse still thrumming from something that has nothing to do with a threat.

You inhale sharply, eyes flickering toward the direction Levi disappeared. “Where did Captain Levi go?”

“He’s outside.” Erwin’s voice remains as even as ever, but something in the way he watches you is too perceptive, too knowing. “Ensuring the situation is fully resolved.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your stance firm. “Permission to check on him, sir?”

A pause.

Not hesitation, not refusal—just assessment.

Then, Erwin gives the faintest tilt of his chin. “Go.”

You don’t waste a second.

—

The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside. The tavern’s warmth is instantly swallowed by the crisp night breeze, the scent of rain still lingering from the earlier drizzle. Lanterns flicker dimly against the darkness, casting long, stretching shadows over the cobblestone streets.

And then—you see him.

Levi stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his posture rigid but controlled. Even from here, you can see the way his fingers flex slightly at his sides, how his head tilts just barely, listening to something unseen.

There’s a man at his feet—conscious but slumped against the wall, groaning, as if the fight had been drained out of him in an instant.

Levi had taken care of it. Of course he had.

But you don’t care about the drunk.

You care about him.

You step forward, boots tapping against stone, and his head immediately shifts at the sound. He doesn’t fully turn—doesn’t have to. He already knows it’s you.

“Captain.” Your voice is steadier than your pulse. “Are you alright?”

For a moment, Levi doesn’t respond. He exhales slowly through his nose, a habit you recognize—one he does when he’s recalibrating, shifting from fight to stillness.

Then, at last, he turns.

The dim lantern light catches against the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows, the tension still visible in the line of his jaw. His uniform is slightly rumpled from movement, but there’s no sign of injury—no blood, no bruising, just Levi, standing in the quiet aftermath of something already finished.

He studies you for a moment, eyes scanning—searching, checking—as if making sure you’re still in one piece.

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You should be inside.”

You step closer, searching his face. “So should you.”

Levi exhales, the barest hint of exasperation beneath the breath. “Did Erwin send you?”

You shake your head. “I came on my own.”

At that, something flickers in his expression. Not surprise—more like quiet understanding.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything to say that he’ll actually listen to. So instead, you just—watch him.

The lines of his face, the way the dim glow of lanterns traces the edges of his expression, how his eyes—normally so impassive—seem darker under the weight of the night.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then—

“You’re shaking.”

It’s so quiet that you almost miss it.

You blink. “What?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to your hands, and you realize, belatedly, that he’s right—your fingers are trembling, ever so slightly, still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline from the evening.

You open your mouth to dismiss it, to say something lighthearted, to wave it off as nothing, but—

Levi moves first.

His hand—warm, calloused, steady—reaches out. He doesn’t take yours, doesn’t grip your wrist, but he touches. A brush of fingertips against your knuckles, a fleeting connection, just enough to ground you in place.

Your breath catches.

It lasts only a second.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, as if realizing what he did, as if catching himself before he lingers too long.

You swallow, staring at him.

“Go inside,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before.

Your heart is still hammering, but it’s not from the cold anymore.

“…You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask, softer this time.

Levi holds your gaze, something unreadable in his own.

Then, with the barest tilt of his chin—

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you believe him.

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goldfades · 1 day ago

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oooo crashout couple idea!!!! luka and reader celebrating libertys first win?????

i think this is my new fav "series", should i make a masterlist cause i have so many fics coming for it<333

The buzzer sounds, echoing through the packed arena, and the moment it does, it’s like the whole world bursts open.

The scoreboard lights up—final score, Liberty on top.

You barely have time to process it before your teammates crash into you, arms wrapping around you, shouts filling your ears. The crowd is roaring, the energy electric, but somehow, through all of it, you only hear one voice.

Luka’s.

You turn instinctively, eyes scanning the courtside seats, and there he is—on his feet, fists clenched, yelling like he just won the damn championship himself.

“LET’S GO, BABY!”

The cameras are already on him—because of course they are. He’s in your jersey, the one he insisted on wearing even though it’s slightly too snug across his broad shoulders, and he looks like he might just sprint onto the court himself.

You swear he nearly does. Security shifts, like they’re anticipating it.

You huff out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. Menace.

But he’s your menace.

And when your eyes meet across the court, Luka doesn’t just give you some polite, sportsmanlike nod.

No, he grins.

Big, wild, unfiltered.

The kind of grin that says, Yeah, I’m in love with you, and what about it?

And just like that, you don’t care about the cameras. You don’t care about the reporters already scribbling down notes about the Crash Out Couple and whatever chaos you’re about to bring to post-game.

All you care about is him.

And the way he’s looking at you like you just hung the damn moon.

Dinner is loud.

Your whole team is buzzing—high off the win, high off the adrenaline, high off the satisfaction of shutting down everyone who thought the Liberty were about to fold under pressure.

The restaurant is one of those dimly lit, upscale-but-still-lively places in the city where athletes and celebrities go to celebrate without completely being left alone. The air is thick with the scent of grilled steak and garlic butter, plates clinking, glasses being refilled before they even have a chance to empty.

And in the middle of it all, sitting next to you with his hand on your thigh like he needs to be touching you at all times, is Luka.

He’s trying—he really is.

He’s leaning in when your teammates talk, nodding at the right moments, even throwing in a couple of mhms and yeah, that’s crazy in an attempt to keep up with the fast-paced conversation.

But he’s outnumbered.

Badly.

At one point, Sabrina and Jonquel get into a heated discussion about defensive rotations, and you watch Luka’s brain short-circuit in real-time. He’s a franchise player, a basketball genius, but for some reason, this—being surrounded by a table full of hyper-competitive, opinionated, no-nonsense WNBA stars—is the thing that has him sweating.

You press your lips together, hiding your grin behind the rim of your wine glass.

It’s adorable.

This is the same man who drops 40-point triple-doubles like they’re nothing, who talks so much trash on the court it should be illegal, who once got into a screaming match with a ref in three different languages.

And yet, right now?

Right now, he’s nervously swirling the ice in his drink, completely unsure how to insert himself into the chaos.

Sabrina side-eyes him. “Luka, what do you think?”

Luka freezes, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh. “Huh?”

The table erupts in laughter.

You feel him exhale, his head dropping slightly, and it kills you how cute it is.

You pat his cheek, barely suppressing your amusement. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to keep up.”

He groans, tilting his head back dramatically. “Man, I’m trying.”

The teasing doesn’t let up after that.

Your teammates love this—getting to rattle Luka Dončić a little, reminding him that, despite all the MVP chatter and franchise player status, here, he’s just your boyfriend.

And Luka takes it, shaking his head, smirking, playing along even though you can tell he’s still a little overwhelmed.

But one thing about your man?

No matter where he is, no matter who’s around—he’s always going to have his hands on you.

Throughout dinner, his touch never leaves you.

His palm on your thigh, fingers tracing mindless patterns. His hand drifting up to squeeze your waist when you shift in your seat. His thumb brushing over your knuckles when he takes your hand in his. At one point, he rests his elbow on the back of your chair, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair, absentminded but so possessive.

And every time your teammates try to clown him, every time they tease him about being too quiet, about being so in love it’s making him shy, Luka just shrugs.

Like he knows.

Like he doesn’t care.

Like he’s completely fine with all of them seeing the way he needs to be close to you.

Like he’s saying, Yeah, I’m in love with her. And?

And honestly?

You love it.

#luka dončić #luka doncic #luka doncic x reader

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slcmml · 2 days ago

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teacher! schlatt & reader — a love experiement

★ it starts with curiosity. schlatt isn’t the type to seek out friendships with coworkers, but something about you intrigues him. you’re quiet but not standoffish, reserved but not boring. he catches himself lingering outside your classroom, peeking in to see what weird art project your students are working on. he’ll lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, and drawl, “whatcha teachin’ ‘em today? finger painting?” just to see you get all shy.

★ he teases you constantly. he lives for your flustered little reactions, smirking when you avoid eye contact or mumble a response. but it’s never mean—just his way of pulling you out of your shell. “y’know, i never hear you raise your voice. what do you do when a kid misbehaves? stare ‘em down ‘til they repent?” you roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward, and that’s how he knows he’s won.

★ he’s a bit of a mystery to you? schlatt is loud. and cocky. and a nuisance. but you notice things others don’t—how he never lingers at staff parties, how he prefers one on one conversations over big group settings, how he sometimes looks genuinely relieved when he steps into your quiet classroom after a long day.

★ the staff definitely has a bet going on. teachers love gossip, and your odd relationship is prime material. “they have to be dating.” “no way, they’re just ‘really close coworkers’.” meanwhile, you and schlatt are completely oblivious to the speculation, too caught up in your own little world of being fucking idiots.

★ he lowkey tries to impress you. if you ever mention finding a topic interesting, suddenly that becomes the focus of his next class. “yeah, so today’s lesson is about bioluminescence. which is pretty cool, i guess. not that anyone asked, but y’know, some people might find it interesting.” literally only does this for class so he can tell you about it later.

★ you start to pick up on his social battery? i mean, despite how extroverted he acts, you notice he sometimes disappears during lunch breaks or avoids crowded teacher’s meetings. at first, you assume he just doesn’t care, but one day, you find him sitting alone in his empty classroom, quietly grading papers. you hesitate before stepping in, holding up a coffee. “thought you might want a break.” he looks at you, then at the coffee, then back at you, before exhaling. “you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

★ he’s weirdly protective of you. if another teacher tries to talk over you in a staff meeting? he immediately cuts in, backing you up without hesitation. if a student’s giving you a hard time? suddenly schlatt’s popping his head into your room like, “need me to send someone out? jus’ say the word.”

★ neither of you realize you’re basically dating? you spend so much time together, fall into so many easy conversations, and yet, neither of you quite acknowledge what’s happening.

★ schlatt probably teases you about how “art can’t be that hard” almost all the time.

★ at some point you finally call his bluff and tell him to sit down and prove it. he tries to act all nonchalant, but he’s secretly a little nervous because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you.

★ he’s stiff at first. when you hand him a brush, he just kind of stares at it like he’s holding a foreign object. “alright, what am i s’posed to do? jus’... start wavin’ this thing around?”

★ he’s used to precise measurements and structured formulas, so the whole “just go with the flow” thing throws him off.

★ his grip on the brush is terrible, so without thinking, you reach over and adjust his fingers. the second your hands touch, he freezes. you don’t even notice, too focused on correcting his technique, but schlatt is sitting there, completely distracted by the fact that you’re this close to him.

★ he keeps sneaking glances at you. while you’re explaining different brushstrokes, he’s barely listening—just watching the way your face lights up when you talk about art. at one point, you lean in to demonstrate something, and he swears his brain short-circuits for a second.

★ he’s terrible at painting, but you don’t have the heart to tell him. his first attempt looks like absolute garbage—uneven strokes, weird colors, a total mess. but when he turns to you all smug like, “pretty good, huh?” you just smile softly and say, “it’s… unique.” (he knows that means it’s bad.)

★ he actually listens when you correct him. for all his teasing, schlatt really does take your advice seriously. when you gently tell him to loosen up his strokes or blend the colors more naturally, he follows your instructions without argument. he won’t admit it, but hearing you talk so passionately about something makes him want to try—even if it’s just to impress you a little.

★ you wipe paint off his face without thinking. at some point, he manages to get a streak of paint on his cheek. without thinking, you reach up and swipe it off with your thumb. you don’t even realize what you’ve done until you notice he’s completely silent. when you finally look at him, his ears are bright red. “uh—” he clears his throat. “thanks.”

★ he insists you keep his first painting. he knows it’s bad, you know it’s bad, but he shoves it into your hands anyway. “frame it. tell people it’s modern art or somethin’.” you laugh, but later that night, you do end up keeping it. it’s terrible, but it’s his, and for some reason, that makes it special.

★ the whole thing just feels a lot more intimate than either of you expected. it’s just painting, but there’s something about the quiet closeness, the shared laughter, and the little moments of eye contact that make your heart race. neither of you say anything about it, but after that day, something between you shifts—like maybe, just maybe, this whole thing was never really about painting at all.

★ ANYWAY YOU BOTH ARE FUCKING LOSERS BECAUSE LIKE CHARLIE YOU BOTH ARE TOO PUSSY TO TELL EACH OTHER YOU WANNA SWAP SPIT JUST FUCK ALREADY I DON’T FUCKING KNOW

#slcmml posts #this is more like a fic than headcanons??#LMFAO #did i cook #no I’M cooked #also i couldn’t think of a title so it’s kind of lame but wtv #hopefully you like it…#also i wrote a shy reader bc i thought it was cute ntm pls lmk if its cringe.#chuckle sandwich #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt

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hanjisungslag · 3 days ago

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attack on titan headcanons #15

synopsis: things you argue about 😵‍💫

characters included: eren, mikasa, armin, jean, sasha, connie, reiner, annie, bertolt, levi, erwin and hange.

notes: i’ll be expanding my horizons!! & adding a new anime to my masterlist >.< also, i added a s4 ver to this? i’m not sure if it’s any good but, i just wanted to do it loll

☆ eren jaeger

pointing out the obvious here but, his yearning to kill every single titan. he constantly puts himself in danger, especially since becoming a titan himself and he is just completely blinded by his rage sometimes. you’ve all lost someone to the titans whether it’s your parents, friends or an acquaintance, there’s no need for him to be so reckless!

by the time you guys are 19, he had left. he became awfully reserved and angrier but in a scarier way, he was quieter. he was clearly severely traumatised & that caused many arguments for a multitude of reasons but before you knew it, he left without a word.

☆ mikasa ackerman

her recklessness. she’s very head strong, leaning toward a bit stubborn but most of all, she was caring of those around her. as a rookie, she may have been compared to a 100 man army but, that doesn’t mean she’s indestructible!

by the time you’re 19, a lot has gone to shit. so many people have died, eren is on a genocide mission & everyone is terrified. at any moment, either of you could die. you used to see her as reckless now, you see her as fearless and what’s the harm in trying to save the world?

☆ armin arlert

probably his lack of survival instincts. or his insecurity because yes, he’s witty AND he does have some survival skills in a intellectual sense but sometimes, he does lack it and it’s scary. his insecurity not only has an affect on him but you too. it’s really difficult to deal with and it can be draining. his insecurity links back into his survival skills too, he’s so convinced he’s a weakling that he freezes, he doesn’t try to fight. you just want him to stand on his own two feet confidently.

by the time you’re 19, you don’t argue about much. he’s grown up so much, become so much more confident & everyone knows he gets closer to becoming commander everyday.

☆ jean kirsten

i’m sorry but this man is perfect 😭. I SAID IT, I SAID IT!! when he was younger, he acted like a bit of a arrogant. sort of acted like a big, strong man but he’s not and he knows damn well he ain’t! he’s a team worker, kind, understanding and most of all strong and intelligent! he’s the full package idc idc.

by the time you’re 19… you’re still the same. you’re in a more dire situation but, jean doesn’t change. he’s still the heartfelt, strong, confident boy you met 4 years prior except he has a mullet now (😜).

☆ sasha braus

dare i say pretty much nothing…? like you guys probably barely even bicker. you’re both fairly happy, good people who are strong and can handle yourself! maybe the odd bicker about how she steals your stuff.

by the time you’re 19… gulp.

☆ connie springer

he’s very set on stuff… he’s very blinded by his own opinions and doesn’t see the bigger picture. it’s frustrating trying to explain minute details to him or asking him to see things from others perspectives etc. all because he’s so opinionated!

by the time you’re 19, after all the tragedy and heart break, he’s a lot more of an open book now. although one thing you do bicker about is him cracking jokes at the wrong time. still a major issue to this day i fear.

☆ reiner braun

aha😅 probably the fact he’s a TITAN… yeah, i’d say that was a pretty big turning point in your relationship especially because he just blurted it out?? like one minute you’re setting up cannons and the next, eren is screaming about how your boyfriend and his best friend are the fucking titans??? like?? traumatic much? before that, you didn’t argue about much. only when he put himself in danger for others because yes, it’s admirable but it’s dangerous and stupid. you don’t wanna see him hurt!

by the time you’re 19… well. you broke up. not officially just due to uh, circumstances. awks.

☆ annie leonhart

i don’t think there was necessarily anything major that you guys argued about, definitely just like little bickers about stupid things and annie would usually just close off until you both forget about it or apologised to get it over with. after the discovery of her being a titan and the killing of marco, you were absolutely heartbroken.

by the time you’re 19, you had also broken up unofficially.

☆ bertolt hoover

nothing! i’m sorry he’s just too wonderful and perfect! that was until the inevitable happened, reiner exposed the two of them on a random tuesday. overhearing this conversation, you thought reiner was delusional, bertolt tried his best to get reiner to just shut up & stop talking but next thing you knew you were forced to fight your own boyfriend. you were furious, betrayed, hurt. you tried your best to let out your feelings of anguish while fighting him but, soon he disappeared.

by the time you’re 19… uhhh

☆ levi ackerman

oh dear god um, probably the fact he’s so closed off. it was difficult for him to even get into a relationship with you in the first place but then, he doesn’t allow himself to be open with you. he’s so traumatised and terrified in losing you that he sees no point in opening up. it’s really difficult because he doesn’t really realise he’s doing it but whenever you try to bring it up, he gets defensive.

☆ erwin smith

his need for the ‘secret’. it drives you up the wall, it’s understandable yes, but it’s insane. he’s so devoted and you love that but sometimes, it’s overwhelming and a little scary. you argue about this every once in a while but especially toward the end, when they were so close to erens basement, you wanted to spend the rest of our lives together but erwin was willing to put himself and all his troops on the line for this, you thought it was selfish.

☆ hange zoë

nothing. sorry but just nothing, maybe their experiments with titans because like what the fuck that’s so dangerous? but usually, you know you can count on moblit to make sure they don’t die aha… even when they do get a bit too close to comfort to the titans it’s less of an argument and more of a “hange— jesus, can you please be careful?” while they giggle happily 😭.

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bonedo-enthusiast · 20 hours ago

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toxic 𐂐◯𓇋 (hts)

i got inspo from lettuce by f5ve to write this--would recommend giving it a listen. :)

desc: when you confront taesan about his changed behavior, you don't expect what comes out of his mouth next. (taesan asks reader to dom him for the first time. 🤭)

warnings: smut, mdni!, some angst at the beginning, some fluff at the end, sub!taesan x dom!reader, masochist!taesan x sadist!reader, praise, degradation, temperature play (using a cold object), biting, oral (both receiving), p in v, no protection used (but pls do irl!), taesan is a brat, orgasm denial, cum eating, voyeurism/exhibitionism(?), use of some pet/nicknames (sannie, sweetie, baby), afab!reader but no pnouns used + lmk if i missed anything as always!

wc: 2,074

taesan was the perfect boyfriend–always doing you favors, giving you compliments, and randomly giving you gifts. but then he started working at a new job, and that’s when everything seemed to change. it was almost like overnight, the sweet thoughtful boy that you once knew was now distant and cold toward you. eventually, you had had enough.

“taesan, what the fuck?” you asked him after he got off work, brushing past you to go to the bedroom.

“what?” taesan asked in turn, not even looking at you.

“why have you been acting so toxic lately? what’s changed?”

he turned around with a scoff, you putting your hands on your hips. “me? toxic?”

“um, yeah. all of a sudden, you don’t wanna spend as much time together and you hardly ever compliment me anymore. so, like i asked, what’s changed?” you paused. “are you cheating on me?”

“what?” taesan looked offended. “of course not.”

“okay, then spill the beans.”

“fine. fine, i’ll spill the beans.” he straightened up, looming over you. “it’s ‘cause you don’t care.”

“huh?” now it was your turn to scoff. “i don’t care? why on earth would you think that?”

“because…” he faltered, a break in his nonchalant mask. but then it was back. “you never do any of the things you do for me. it always feels like i’m putting more effort into the relationship. and, well, my new friends at work have made me realize that.”

“oh…” you frowned, softening. “i never thought of it like that. in fact, i never really thought of that at all. i’m… so sorry, taesan.”

he let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. “no, i’m sorry. this is kind of stupid. i should’ve just talked to you about it like a grown man.”

“and i should’ve realized that you were doing more for me than i was for you. we both made mistakes.” you smiled up at him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “is there anything i can do to make it up to you, love?”

“well… actually, there’s another thing.” taesan said, looking a bit flushed.

this made you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “what is it, sannie?”

“there’s no easy way to bring this up.” his eyes shifted down to the floor. “i… i want to try something different in our… relationship.”

“okay…” you said, nervousness bubbling up inside you. “what do you mean?”

taesan mumbled. “i want you to dom me.”

“what?!” you jumped back in surprise, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

“we don’t have to.” taesan said quickly, sighing again. “sorry, forget i even mentioned–”

you silenced him, pulling him down and crashing your lips into his. taesan let out a soft moan, breaking away from the kiss soon after. his cheeks were red as he began to stammer out something, but you cut him off by kissing him again

“you’re so fucking hot, taesan.” you murmured, catching his bottom lip in between your teeth. he visibly shuddered, looking at you with lust when you pulled away. “strip.”

“but i wanna see you fi–”

“i said strip.” you said, making him feel small with your gaze even though you were physically smaller. “safe word is banana, okay?”

taesan nodded and bit his lip, quickly taking off his t-shirt and sweats. he paused at the waistband of his boxers, looking at you. then he slowly slid them off too, his cock springing up from the motion. your eyes gravitated toward it and you instinctively reached out, wrapping a hand around it. taesan sucked in a breath at the contact, maintaining your gaze.

“go into the bedroom and wait for me. i also want to try something.” you said, letting go of his dick.

taesan smirked. “oh? and what might that be?”

“a surprise.” you headed into the kitchen after taesan entered your shared bedroom. you walked to the fridge, opening the freezer and rummaging around in it until you saw it. you kept a metal spoon in there for your skincare but a while back you had wondered what it might be like to use something cold in the bedroom. you personally enjoyed the way lube felt due to its coolness, so it didn’t sound too far fetched to you.

you closed the freezer and headed to the bedroom, opening the door to find taesan on the bed with a hand pumping his cock.

“taesan, what the fuck are you doing?” you asked sternly.

“i’m–hah–jerking off, what does it–mmh–look like?” taesan stumbled over his words, biting his lip.

“did i say you could do that?”

“you d-didn’t say i couldn–ah! y-y/n… f-fuck!” taesan let out a loud groan as his body shuddered, spurts of milky white falling on his thighs and the sheets below him.

you let out a disappointed sigh, coming to sit beside him. “taesan… look at me.” you grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “you should know you’re not supposed to do anything to yourself unless i tell you to.”

“whoops.” taesan replied with a shrug, smiling cheekily at you.

you rolled your eyes and pushed him down so he was laying on the bed. you hovered over him and placed the cold metal spoon against one of his nipples, his back slightly arching as he let out a moan.

you giggled. “oh? does my baby like that?”

“sh-shut up…” taesan murmured, his words contrasting with the neediness in his eyes.

“that’s no way to talk to me.” you said, moving the spoon to his other nipple. he moaned again, shivering a little. “apologize.”

“no…”

you trailed the spoon down his stomach to his dick, stopping just at the base. he let out a louder moan and you gave him a look.

“o-okay, i’m s-sorry, fuck…”

“there we go. that’s better, don’t you think?” you smiled sweetly at him and removed the spoon, replacing it with your warm hand.

he sucked in air between his teeth, shuddering again. “y/n, i need you… now.”

“mm, i didn’t hear a ‘please.’” you said, wrapping a limp hand around his cock before releasing it, toying with him.

“p-please, y/n! please.”

“i don’t know if you deserve it. after all, you’ve already cum before i’ve even had a chance to. that’s rude, don’t you think?”

“i said i’m sorry, okay?”

“not about that. and not about your attitude, either.” you kissed his neck, causing him to squirm a little.

“well, i-i am! sorry. for all of it.”

“you know… they say that actions speak louder than words.” you slid off your shorts and panties, feeling the cool air hitting you. taesan practically salivated, his eyes immediately going to your cunt.

“fuck…” he groaned, instinctively reaching for his dick.

you swatted his hand away. “nu-uh. exhibit a. you are not sorry.” you swung a leg over his lap, hovering just above his dick. “guess i’ll have to make you sorry.”

you sunk down then, sucking in a sharp breath as he stretched you out with no preparation. taesan threw his head back with a grunt, his hands resting on either side of your thighs. you paused for a few moments, using the time to litter kisses along his neck. you sucked and nipped at the skin, causing red and purple marks to begin blooming. when you felt ready, you sunk the rest of the way down and bottomed out with a soft moan.

“so beautiful.” taesan mumbled. “making me feel so good…”

“oh, baby, we haven’t even started.” you lifted off of his cock before slamming back down, knocking a gasp out of him. you tried to contain your own noises but ending up failing. taesan didn’t seem to notice anyway with the way he was struggling keeping his eyes open.

you picked up the pace, fucking yourself on him like your life depended on it.

“y/n, i-i might cum soon.” taesan stammered out between gasps of air.

“no, you won’t. not until i say.”

“please… please please please.” taesan whined, causing something deep inside you to awaken at this unfamiliar tone.

“you heard me, slut.” you said, grabbing the spoon from earlier and placing it against his nipples.

he gasped loudly. “c-cold, f–aah! y/n, please. i can’t–i can’t hold it in!”

you slid off of his cock, sitting on his thighs. taesan whined at the loss of contact. “no! y/n, p–”

“stop your whining.” you said sternly. “look at you. i’ve never seen you so pathetic.”

“i-i need you.” taesan said pitifully, his eyes desperately searching yours. “need you so bad.”

“you just don’t listen, do you?” you let out a dramatic sigh before leaning down and taking his dick in your mouth.

“yes! y-yes! thank you so m–fuck!” taesan bucked his hips as you gently nibble the base of his cock.

“oh, does my baby like that?” you teased. “you are so dirty, aren’t you?” you continued sucking him off, swirling your tongue around his tip.

“f-fuck, y/n, i’m gonna c–” you let his dick fall out of your mouth as his body began tensing. “no!” he whined again, looking frustrated. “i was s-so close, y/n!”

“i know. but like i said, i haven’t even cum yet.” you leaned back and inserted a finger inside your cunt, letting out a soft moan.

taesan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he leaned forward, about to touch you.

“nu-uh, no touching. either me or yourself. just watch.”

he frowned as he leaned back, biting his lip in frustration. you began pumping the finger in and out of yourself, letting moans and curses tumble out of your mouth. when you inserted another finger, taesan let out an audible moan.

“should i go faster, baby?” you asked him with a smile.

“yes, faster.” taesan nodded enthusiastically, knowing that the sooner your orgasm came, the sooner his would too.

you let out a giggle and fingered yourself with more intensity, your eyebrows furrowing with pleasure. you felt the knot in your stomach tighten until it finally exploded, your juices coating your hand.

taesan let out a groan, staring at your fingers as you pulled them out of yourself.

“wanna taste, baby?” you asked, bringing your fingers up to his lips.

he guided your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them while maintaining eye contact with you. once he sucked them clean, you removed them. “fuck, you taste so good…”

“thank you, baby. are you ready to cum now?”

“yes, please.” taesan leaned back some more as you lined him up with your entrance. you sunk down again, bouncing up and down on his cock harder than before. “oh sh-shit, y/n!”

you leaned down and kissed him. you tasted yourself as your tongues danced around each other. he grabbed the back of your head, needily deepening the kiss. then his body tensed up again and his movements stopped as he let out a loud moan. you felt him cum inside you, the warm liquid filling you up even more.

he fell back panting but grunted again as he felt you continuing to move. “i-it hurts!”

“i know, sweetie, but you like it, don’t you? besides, i should get to cum again too.” you cooed, brushing the hair off of his forehead.

you continued riding him until you also came, your cunt clenching around him. taesan involuntarily shivered at the feeling before wrapping you into a hug.

“i really am so sorry for treating you like that.” he said after a few moments. “i feel like a dumbass.”

“i’m not going to disagree.” you joked, grinning at him.

“yeah… yeah.” he let out a short laugh. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

a few weeks later, taesan came home to find that you weren’t there. he read the note you left on the kitchen table: “be back soon. going to the store. :)”

he walked into the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes when he saw a vinyl sitting on the bed. his eyes lit up as he approached it, seeing another note from you: “i hope you know now that i care. sorry for calling you toxic… <3”

taesan let out a giggle and took the vinyl out of its sleeve, popping it on the record player against the wall. he sat on the bed and listened to the soft music, finding his smile growing wider and wider.

a/n: i feel like this was all over the place at times, but i hope you all enjoyed nonetheless. i love the idea of a bratty taesan and idk this just checked all my boxes. (yes this was kind of self-indulgent but that's okay.)

#boynextdoor smut #bnd smut #boynextdoor hard hours #bnd hard hours #boynextdoor hard thoughts #bnd hard thoughts #taesan smut #taesan hard thoughts #taesan hard hours #taesan x reader #―୨୧⋆ ˚ fawns bookshelf 📚#𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ enjoy your meal! 🍩#₊˚⊹♡ managers special 🍓#♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ coming right up! 🧇

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 18 hours ago

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Complicated (Will Graham)

Description: Will loves Y/N who is cold towards everyone but opens up to him that is until Hannibal comes along

Warning: Smut

Word Count:1,908

Request:Can you write a will graham x fem!reader where reader is an fbi agent and is working in the case with will and will starts to fall in love with her since she ‘understands’ him but she’s quite cold towards everyone can you also make her one of the best agents and Hannibal becomes quite intrigued by her could you add in will and reader smut too pls❤️

Author’s note: kind of an x Hannibal story as well. Also I misread it and thought it said to add smut and then add Will I am sorry but I hope you like it!

She took off her gloves and put them in her pocket as her and Will checked out the body. “Looks dead to me.” She said in a plain voice but Will laughed. “Yeah he certainly does.” Jack put the best agents on the Chesapeake ripper case and all week they’ve been trying to find hints, clues, anything that would give away who it was.

Y/N sighed and looked at the poor guy’s neck. “He was strangled to death.” She said and he nodded, “His lower half is missing.” She nodded. “Way to point out the obvious.” She looks at him and he smiles. They sat there and investigated the upper half of this man. Y/N making jokes with a straight face and Will laughing and adding to the jokes. Y/N was cold and distant to a lot of people. She was very professional and one of the best agents in the FBI.

Will favored her over anyone and loved her jokes even though she never has a joking tone to her voice when she speaks. He could tell her anything and she never judged him and even on rare occasions she would share some things with him. She too had sleep problems and needed therapy. She could make him smile without even trying. He wanted to tell her so badly but decided that it wasn’t right. She was too professional; there was no way that she would date him.

“You have a good night, Will Graham.” She tells him and he nods, “You as well, Y/N Y/L/N.” As she walked to her car she had a small smile on her face. Will had a huge smile as he got in his car and drove home for another restless night.

Will should have told her how he felt but once Hannibal met her he had the feeling that Hannibal also liked her but Y/N didn’t seem interested in his company as a matter of fact Y/N didn’t seem to like him at all. “You need to leave, we are working on a case Dr.Lecter.” She told him without looking at him.

Will hid a smile as Hannibal looked surprised. Not many people talked to him like that but he wasn’t offended. He was intrigued and wanted to know more about her. “I was offering my help on the case.” “We don’t need it.” Will nodded at Y/N agreeing with her. “Well I will leave you two to it.” He said and left the room.

“You don’t like him very much do you?” He asked her. She shrugged, “I don’t like many people.” She told him and he felt that. Though he had his quirks with Hannibal the guy was smart. “He shows up and thinks he knows everything and that he could help.” Y/N says and Will looks at her a little surprised. “You aren’t interested in what he has to say?” He asked her. She shrugged, “Not really.” Hannibal felt the complete opposite about her. And the next day Will would be pondered with questions about her.

“Y/N seems different.” He said to Will who was not happy about him taking interest in her. “Y/N doesn’t really like you Hannibal. I would give up now.” He told him and Hannibal looked offended. “She doesn’t even know me.” Though this was true Y/N didn’t care to get to know him at all. “She’s just like that.” Hannibal looked at him before standing up, “What makes you any different?” He asked Will. Will gave him a smile, “She likes me.” What does Will have that he doesn’t?

Y/N rolled her eyes as Hannibal walked in her office with Will and Jack. She looked up and greeted ⅔ of them. Hannibal cleared his throat but she ignored him. “Y/N this is Hannibal. You may have already met him.” Y/N nodded and looked over at the man. “He is helping us on the case.” Will said, trying to hide his annoyance. “We don’t need help, we have got this.” Y/N told Jack. Will agreed but Jack didn’t care. Y/N tried to hide her eye roll but Will saw it and smiled at her. “I promise I won’t get in the way.” Hannibal said and Y/N looked at him. This was going to be so fun.

Hannibal shared his thoughts on what he thought about the next person that was murdered. Y/N hated to admit it but he seemed to know what he was talking about. Maybe he should be in the FBI. “You are onto something Lecter.” Hannibal chuckled, “Did you just call me by my last name?” He asked with a smile.

She looked at him and shrugged, “You have been warming up to me.” He teases and she rolls her eyes. Will was the only person that she truly was comfortable around but after these past few weeks she had gotten closer to him. Will walked in and saw the smile on Hannibal’s face. He too has noticed that Y/N was warming up to Hannibal and he didn’t like it. Hannibal also could tell that Will was annoyed by it but that was more of a reason to do it.

They worked on the case and made up theories and thoughts until it was time to rest. Will left first no longer wanting to be in the room with Hannibal and his flirty comments towards Y/N. “What’s it going to take for you to let me make you dinner?” She looked over at him.

She couldn’t say exactly how she got to this point. This wasn’t like her at all. She was eating the meal that Hannibal had made her and let herself go for once and now she was on the table that they just ate off of and Hannibal was thrusting into her. Her fingers dug into the table as he rocked her and the table. His large hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises, not that either of them cared right now. Her lips were swollen from kissing and taking his dick into her mouth. She was loud but not extremely loud.

Hannibal had his hips angled to hit her sweet spot so she was moaning and whining for him. He looked down at her and noticed how beautiful she was and how amazing she felt. She whined his name weakly pulling him out of his thoughts and making him thrust faster. He wished Will was here, not to join but to see him fuck the woman of his dreams.

Will would hate it but Hannibal would love it. He wrapped a hand around her throat and groaned, “Are you going to cum for me?” She nodded and was breathless. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock and scream.” He demanded and just from that it was so easy for her. She screamed his name as she came all over him. Her body shuddered and her hips stuttered as she felt the intensity of the orgasm flow through her body. The sight of her made Hannibal cum with a moan.

The next day Will was supposed to have a session with Hannibal but Y/N was there for the case. Will had nearly walked in on them making out but Y/N stepped away before they could get caught. “What are you doing here?” Will asked her as he walked into Hannibal’s office. She held up the case file in her hand, “I believe I have the next lead.” She told him as she handed him the file. He took it but looked over at Hannibal, “We were supposed to have a session.” “Yes but Y/N said that this was important.” Will opened the file and looked through it.

Though he believed that the other man in the room had something to do with this he couldn’t shame Y/N’s effort. “So this is what we are working on today?” He asked them. Y/N nodded and sat in a chair, Will sat in the other one. He couldn’t shake off how weird it was that Y/N was in Hannibal’s house and in the office with the door closed. Come to think about it, Y/N never knew where Hannibal’s house even was…unless… He tried to ignore that thought but couldn’t.

Y/N would call him first about the case before showing Hannibal. Let alone tell him what the plan was today. He saw Hannibal not even paying attention but staring at her with hungry eyes. He had no doubt that they had slept together and maybe were about to before he came in. Anger and jealousy rose in him and he was going to confront her as soon as they left the house.

“You slept with him didn’t you?” Was the first words out of Will’s mouth once they were outside Hannibal’s house. Y/N turned to look at him with surprise. Had it been that obvious? “What makes you say that?” She asked him. He shook his head with a scoff, “You so did. You would have straight up said No and you barely show emotions through your face.” She stared at him with a straight face as he ranted. “Why does it matter?” Will couldn’t believe she would even ask that.

He thought that they had something but was proven wrong with this Hannibal situation. “Y/N you can’t be that oblivious.” She knew that Will and her were very close and before Hannibal that was the person she was closest to. “You think he’s using me for something?” Yeah she was that oblivious. “I’m in love with you!” He yells at her and her eyes widen a little. “I love you and I thought that we had something or that was a possibility but you sleep with him? You hated him when you first met him.” This was all true and Y/N couldn’t help but look down at her feet in shame. This wasn’t like her at all and if she was to sleep with anyone it would be Will. She couldn’t believe herself.

“Will I-I don’t know what to say. It’s complicated.” She admits to him and he wants to laugh. He wants to laugh in her face because what was so complicated about it. He shakes his head, “Truth be told Y/N I think he’s the Chesapeake ripper.” He walks away to his car leaving her stunned.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what Will said to her that night. She went back to being quiet during meetings and investigations and even cut ties with Hannibal. She knew that Will was smart but did she actually believe what he said? Hannibal, a killer? Hannibal was confused by her behavior. Maybe she regretted sleeping with him or maybe Will put things in her head about him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe Will was truly behind this. But she wasn’t speaking to him either. Actually she was avoiding them both.

But for different reasons. Will loves her and maybe she feels the same way back and Hannibal could be the killer that they are looking for. She sat in her bed staring at the pictures of all the bodies that they found. Could Hannibal actually be capable of doing all of this? She thought back to all he was saying about the killer and how he did seem to understand things even though he was a therapist. She reached for her phone and called Will, he answered and she sighed before talking, “So Hannibal’s the Chesapeake ripper.”

#hugh dancy #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal #mads mikkelsen #will graham #will graham imagine #will graham smut #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter smut #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x will graham

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xmads-omensx · 19 hours ago

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PART 6 TO CALL ME LOVER

Word Count: 1,964

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: mentions of smut and allusions to smut, angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm

He often found himself reminiscing on the old days.

Looking back to simpler times.

This night in particular, he had stumbled across an old sweater. It was a dark green colour with white embroidery on the front, identifying the fact that this sweater belonged to a member of a college volleyball team.

It was hers.

Her scent still lingered on the fabric.

He pulled it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.

Part of his felt that this was a weird thing to be doing, but he didn’t care. It was the last scrap of her that he still possessed besides the stuffed lamb.

The sweater had fit her perfectly. It sat slightly oversized on her frame, which he had loved.

The last time he had seen it was when it lay over the back of the desk chair that sat in her college dorm.

She was one of the most intelligent people he knew, so it was no wonder that she had been the only person out of the group that they used to hang around with to go to college.

The sweater rarely ever made its way back to the hanger that sat empty in her wardrobe.

He remembered laying on her bed waiting for her whilst she got ready for the party they were going to be attending.

It was a social event to celebrate the volleyball team’s latest win so Y/N was invited, and insisted on Noah driving over to go with her.

She had wanted him there to celebrate with her in her special moment as she had for him when Bad Omens released their first single.

On this particular night as Noah lay on her bed, she seemed more anxious than normal.

Her hands were more expressive when she talked and she kept getting frustrated by her makeup not looking how she wanted it to.

She looked perfect in his eyes.

She always did.

But tonight felt different.

Their was something about her that wasn’t quite the Y/N he knew and loved.

“Are you okay?” He asked with a laugh as she threw her eyelash curler down for the fourth time.

She sighed, her head falling into her hands.

“Yeah I’m fine.” She muttered.

Noah was sceptical but didn’t push her because he knew that would only frustrate her further.

Soft and slow acoustic music flowed from the small speaker on her desk.

It belonged to her dorm-mate but since Y/N was going to a party, Anna, her dorm-mate had kindly gone to stay at her girlfriend’s dorm that night instead.

That had also confused Noah, since Y/N never got drunk enough to warrant that. She also never brought anyone back to her dorm so it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Then it hit Noah.

She had plans to bring someone home later on in the night.

“Where’s Anna?” Noah asked.

“I already told you.” Y/N replied, not looking away from her mirror, “She’s at Evie’s.”

“How come?” He asked.

“Because she wanted to? I don’t know, Noah. You can take the bed if that’s what you’re getting at.” Y/N responded.

Noah laughed.

“You know I’m more than happy to just share yours like I usually do.” He said.

She smiled.

“I know.” She murmured.

“You’re planning on bringing someone home tonight aren’t you? That’s why you’re so nervous.” Noah said in a confident voice.

Y/N looked at her lap, an embarrassed blush rising to her cheeks.

She nodded.

“Who?” Noah asked.

“Brady.” Y/N murmured in reply.

Noah was stunned into silence.

Brady had a reputation for being a fuck boy.

He moved on from one girl to the next, he didn’t care how they felt, not one bit.

Part of Noah’s heart started to break when he realised that you wanted somebody else in your bed that night, not him.

“But I’m scared.” She whispered.

“Don’t go through with it if you’re scared.” Noah suggested, hoping she would change her mind.

He patted the space beside him on the bed, gesturing for her to come and sit beside him.

She obliged, resting her head on his shoulder, to which he responded by kissing the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her in closer.

“I’ve never done anything like that before.” She admitted softly.

“Done what?” He asked, searching for clarity.

“I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” She said a little bit louder. “One night stands.”

“Oh.” He said in response. “You’ve never slept with anyone?”

“I’ve never even kissed somebody.” She said with a dry laugh. “Does it change the way you think of me?” She looked up at him. “Of course it doesn’t.” He assured her, placing a kiss onto her forehead.

They sat like that for a while.

Entwined in one another.

Noah clutched the stuffed lamb to his chest as he remembered the moment when he sat on the precipice of having everything that he ever dreamed of having, but let it slip right through his fingers.

Back then, he was a nervous wreck.

He couldn’t find the words to express what he wanted to, so instead placed his hand on the side of her face ever so gently, and pulled it closer to his own until their lips met.

The kiss itself was nothing special.

It barely lasted a few seconds.

But Noah felt electric.

His body erupted in fireworks as he finally got to hold her face in his hands.

Their lips interlocked in the softest of kisses, making his lips tingle.

He felt like he was on fire.

When the kiss ended, their foreheads pressed against eachother.

Fireworks still burst in Noah’s chest as he looked into her sparkling eyes.

“I can be your first.” He whispered.

Noah knew that his proposition was a gamble, but he was willing to risk it, just to be that close to her, even if it was only once.

“You mean that?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Yes.” He whispered. “I want you to be with someone you trust, not some fuckboy at a party.”

“I would really like that.” She replied after a beat.

Noah instantly pulled her back in for another kiss.

The electricity between them soared as Noah pulled her onto his lap, not breaking the kiss, even for a moment.

The music from earlier continued, offering a blissful soundtrack to their intimacy as they grew closer and closer to together.

Noah delicately took off her clothes.

Nervous and tentative fingers explored her as she sat above him, looking down at him with curious eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” She whispered, red rising to her cheeks as he looked into his brown eyes.

“That’s okay.” He whispered, hands caressing her sides gently. “That’s what I’m here for. I’m going to help you.”

She leant down and kissed him, muttering a soft “thank you” as she pulled away.

The moments that followed were quite possibly the most magical moments in Noah’s life as he held her close, treasuring every inch of her being.

She trusted him completely.

Soft touches and kisses was all that Noah could focus on as he took her.

This wasn’t just fucking to him. He wanted to make love to her.

She deserved it.

Before either of them knew it, Noah was holding her naked form close to his own as they breathed heavily.

Her phone rang suddenly, breaking them out of the bubble they had created for the two of them.

Y/N broke free from Noah’s hold, his arm falling off of her hip and lay limp of the bed beside her as she sat up, answering the call.

“Oh shit.” Y/N spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Yeah we’re on our way now, we lost track of time.”

She jumped off of the bed, and started pulling her clothes back on hurriedly, tossing Noah his own clothes.

Of course she still wanted to go to the party.

The car ride over was silent as they hummed along to the demo of the new Bad Omens song that Noah had been working on.

The Foutain.

Noah would never tell Y/N that he had written the song for her.

Part of him wished that he had.

But he never did.

“I guess I was right when I wrote that.” Noah spoke to the lamb that he clutched in his hands as he reminisced on that night.

They both exited the car and walked towards the house.

Loud music boomed from inside, multicoloured lights burst through the windows.

“Thank you.” She said as they reached the front door. “I’m glad it was you.”

He smiled at her softly, also glad that he was the one to do that for her instead of Brady.

They entered the house.

Blue Monday by New Order blaring from the speakers as they meandered through the partygoers.

They paid no mind to Noah, instead congratulating Y/N on the volleyball team’s win.

He liked watching her succeed like this.

Their hands were still interlocked as they navigated their way to the kitchen in search of a drink.

Noah grabbed the both of them a beer, opening them before handing one to her.

She took a swig almost immediately, making Noah laugh.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, as if she had caught glimpse of a rare jewel.

“It’s him.” She hurriedly gushed. “Wish me luck.”

Noah barely had enough time to process what had happened before she vanished back into the crowd.

Then he realised where she had gone.

In the middle of the living room stood Brady.

He was tall with short, dark hair.

He was the complete opposite of Noah.

Brady was the captain of the college hockey team. Popular. Strong. Good looking. All the girls fawned over him like he was Justin Bieber.

It was no wonder Y/N was attracted to him.

He leant down to whisper in her ear, making her giggle.

The sight made Noah sick.

It should be him that he was giggling at not Brady.

He had no choice to watch as she flirted with another man right in front of him.

Flashbacks of what had happened in her dorm room merely a few hours ago replayed in his mind. He had been certain that doing that would have been enough for him to convey how he felt to her.

It wasn’t.

And as he watched her leave with Brady that night, he felt the fissure in his heart widen.

He knew it in that moment that he had lost her.

It didn’t matter what he did for her, he would never be enough.

Never be worthy.

They never did talk about what had happened in her dorm room that night.

There was no romance between Y/N and Brady.

In fact, Noah wasn’t sure their fling ever progressed past that night.

He recalled holding her in his arms as she sobbed having been ghosted less than a week later.

Sometimes Noah closed his eyes and saw her, pretending that it was him that she went home with that night.

He had slept alone in her single bed where they made love.

The sheets were now cold.

Much like the bed he slept in now.

The black sheets that he cocooned himself in nightly were never warm and he feared they never would be again.

He looked at the lamb in his hands.

“You’re all I have left of her.” He laughed, even though it was forced.

Her bed was warm.

He was jealous of that more than anything.

She got to go to bed every night in the arms of someone who loved her.

He didn’t.

He went to sleep alone every.

Damn.

Night.

They never talked that night.

And they never would ever again.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian bad omens #fanfic #noah bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian call me lover #call me lover

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