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day-dreamed · 1 day

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spencer reid x reader

spencer forgets his lunch at home, so you decide to bring it to him. what’s the worst that could happen?

cw: fem!non-bau!reader, roommate!spencer, angst, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, mutual pining

note: this is the longest thing i’ve written on this blog 😭 little nervous abt posting it ngl but i hope you guys like it 💓

You’re puttering around in the kitchen when you notice it on the counter. Spencer’s lunch, a sticky note with his name taped to the front. Immediately you grab your phone to shoot him a text, saying that you’ll bring it to the office for him. It’s your day off, so it’s not like you have any other plans.

The drive there doesn’t take too long. You hit some traffic, but it ends up moving quickly, which you’re grateful for. When you arrive at headquarters, the process of getting in is easy. Spencer had given them your information, like your ID and your car’s license plate, so you’re in their databases. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but since it makes things easier, you let it slide.

Once you’re in the building, it doesn’t take too long for you to get lost. The place is huge, a maze of long hallways that seem to lead everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re about to panic when you spot a directory sign that has the Behavioral Analysis Unit listed, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you make your way towards it.

When you walk into the bullpen, you freeze, your eyes flickering about the room for any sign of your roommate.

“Can I help you?”

You jump and turn towards the source of the voice, face growing warm. “Um, hi! You must be Mr. Hotchner, right? I just—I’m looking for Spencer, is—is he here?” you stutter out. “He… he forgot his lunch,” you hold it up lamely, giving the man you’ve heard so much about a sheepish smile.

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, you spot Spencer coming up behind him. A close lipped smile adorns his face as he sidesteps his boss to get to you.

“Hi. What—what are you doing here?” he asks. His gaze travels from your face to the lunch bag gripped in your hands, and his mouth parts slightly. “Oh. You brought my lunch for me?”

“Mhm,” you nod, holding it out to him.

When he takes it from you, his fingers graze yours for a moment, making your heart flip. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you seem to remember that Spencer’s boss is standing about a foot away. Your roommate jumps and turns to him with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, Hotch, um, this is—this is my roommate,” he says, his face turning red.

“It’s great to meet you, sir,” you say, holding out your hand.

The man reaches out to take it with a small smile on his face, his handshake firm but gentle. “Please, call me Hotch. We’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name.”

You stare at him. “What do you mean?” you ask, your heart doing somersaults as you glance sideways at Spencer, who’s got a panicked look on his face.

“Reid is always—”

“Hey! Um, I could give you a tour, if you want?” Spencer blurts out. “You know, since it’s your first time here.”

Your face burns. “Sure,” you say, clearing your throat. “It was great to meet you again, sir.”

Spencer is grabbing your hand before Hotch can respond, and you stumble after him as he pulls you away. You don’t get very far, though, before a woman appears in front of you, all bright colors and smiles.

“Oh my god! You must be Reid’s roommate,” she exclaims, immediately reaching forward to wrap her arms around you. “I’m Penelope Garcia, the BAU’s amazingly wonderful tech analyst.” When she pulls back, she rests her hands on your shoulders. “Wow. Spencer always talks about how pretty you are, you know. And he’s right.”

“Garcia!” you hear Spencer groan, but it sounds far away.

“He does?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, suddenly feeling like the air has been stolen from your lungs.

A man appears from seemingly nowhere next to Penelope, his smile wide and bright as his eyes flicker between you and Spencer. “You’re pretty boy’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Penelope slaps him on the shoulder. “Derek! You can’t just ask that.”

“Why not?” he frowns at her. “I’m only joking.”

You gape at him, your brain scrambling as you try to find the right words to respond. Spencer comes to the rescue, thankfully.

“You guys, she—she’s just my roommate!”

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Derek grins.

“Hey, don’t listen to him. He’s just being a jerk, okay?” Spencer says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

But you don’t hear him, still too busy thinking about the word Derek had said earlier. Girlfriend. Your heart pounds in your chest, breath caught in your throat.

“Sorry, I—excuse me,” you mutter. “I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

You avoid looking at their faces as you turn and flee, nearly running until you manage to find your way to the restrooms. The door slams behind you once you’re inside, and you cover your face with your hands, attempting to take a deep breath.

Everything that’s happened since you got to headquarters replays in your mind. Hotch saying that Spencer always talks about you. Penelope telling you that he’s always saying how…pretty you are. And then Derek, calling you Spencer’s girlfriend.

It’s all too much. Too overwhelming.

You’re so in your head that you don’t hear a knock at the door, followed by Spencer’s voice calling out your name. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

“I’m fine,” you call out, but the crack in your voice says otherwise.

“I’m coming in.”

“Spence—”

Your protest is cut off as the door opens. A frown curves his lips when his eyes land on you. “What’s wrong?”

You just shake your head and let out a teary laugh, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing, Spence. It’s stupid really. I think—I’m just gonna go.”

“But—”

“I said I’m fine, Spencer.”

That shuts him up. You don’t usually use his full name, so when you do he knows not to push any further. “Oh. I… okay. Will you be okay getting back?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding.

“Text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it safe.”

For some reason, his request makes your stomach twist and a lump form in your throat.

“Yeah. I will,” you breathe out, desperately hoping that he didn’t hear the way your voice trembled.

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iholdwhatican · 2 days

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tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste.

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony.

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.”

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump.

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen.

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly.

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.”

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him.

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth.

“What happened out there?”

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.”

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen?

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.”

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.”

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen.

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine.

That expression was clear, resolute competition.

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it.

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it.

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?”

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.”

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.”

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it.

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.”

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.”

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.”

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.”

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him.

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed.

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together.

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter.

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you.

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes.

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party.

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything.

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused.

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him.

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face.

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing.

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.”

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?”

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?”

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.”

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up.

“You care about me?”

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth?

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.”

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-”

“I wanna help.”

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly.

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed.

“How much do you need?”

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.”

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping.

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?”

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this.

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.”

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap?

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.”

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.”

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger.

“Then tell me what you need.”

“What do you think I need?”

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.”

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?”

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating.

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again.

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?”

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.”

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.”

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling.

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words.

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off.

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs.

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his.

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar.

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please.

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him.

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he.

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss.

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning.

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his.

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks.

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut.

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text.

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

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hopelesslydevoted2paige · 3 days

Note

Kate Martin fluff!!!! Maybe something about celebrating her birthday since it just passed.

CLOSE TO YOU || KATE MARTIN

summary: kate has to deal with celebrating her birthday without her girlfriend, or does she?

pairings: kate martin x gf!reader

word count: 231 (quite short sorry idk why 🥲)

warnings: fluff fluff fluff

authors note: hii anon! thanks for requesting this! idk why its so short but i still hope you like it 🫶 stream close to you by gracie abrams 🤞

The game against the Dallas Wings had ended with the Las Vegas Aces in the lead by 14 points.

It felt weird not seeing you on the stands. Kate’s frown deepened, remembering it was her birthday and that she would have to spend it without you.

A’ja walked up to her. “You okay birthday girl?”

Kate nodded. “Yeah. I just miss-“

“Y/N.” A’ja smirked. “Turn around and say that again.”

Kate looked behind her, locking her eyes on you wearing her jersey and the two cupcakes you were holding.

“Happy Birthday!” You jumped, offering her the cupcakes.

Kate however, didn’t care about the cupcakes and ran straight into your arms. “You’re here.”

You giggled. “What do you mean? I’m just part of your imagination.”

“Shut up.”

When you tried to pull away, she shook her head, pouting and pulled you back in.

“Kate,” You whined. “Your team wants to celebrate. I’ll be waiting for you at the hotel okay?”

She shook her head aggressively before finally pulling away. “I just wanna be with you.”

You sighed, looking around. “Kate it’s your birthday. You should go out and celebrate.”

“It’s my birthday and what I say goes. I just wanna have dinner, and spend time with you.”

You push back her flyaways. “You sure?”

She nods like a little kid. “I don’t care what we do, I just wanna be with you.”

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #kate martin fluff #wnba basketball #wnba #las vegas aces #wcbb #iowa wbb #iowa women’s basketball #wlw

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cosmicpearlz · 1 day

Text

my love is mine, all mine (pt 2)

summary: more glimpses of your relationship with jude!

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: i’m having too much fun writing these scenarios lol

~one~

you rarely ever get into arguments with jude but when it does happen, it’s terrible on everyone’s part. this particular moment was about him not spending enough time with you.

“so you’re saying i can’t hangout with my friends? because that’s what it’s sounding like.”

“jude, that’s not what i’m saying! i’m just saying that it would be nice to have a day with just us. i feel like i’m left on a back burner right now.”

“we do hangout. i mean, i’m here right now but you wanna spend the time arguing!”

“tell me the last time we had a day to ourselves! please enlighten me,” you were beyond frustrated and your head was hurting from all the yelling.

“stop being so fucking clingy. i see you at home every night! we don’t need to be together 24/7.”

you felt your heart throbbing from the pain of hearing those words. is it really such a crime to want quality time with someone you love? between his training sessions and your job, there hasn’t been much alone time.

“okay. my apologies for wanting my boyfriend here with me. i won’t ask again,” you took a step back, looking down to possibly stop the tears. it didn’t work. the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

jude instantly regretted saying that. he understood completely where you were coming from but the stubbornness in him clouded his judgement.

“baby, i’m-“

“i don’t wanna talk to you jude.”

it’s been hours since he last saw you. jude already made the guest room into his bed for the night and found himself restless. he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but he couldn’t sleep without you near. even if you guys weren’t cuddling, at least his hand could be on you in some way. so he tossed and turned until he had enough.

jude makes his way to the room door, raising his hand to knock when the door swings open. it startles the both of you. leaving you to stare at each other in silence. jude noticed the dry tear streaks that laid on the apple of your cheeks. it made him feel worse.

“you really hurt-“

“i’m sorry bab-“

speaking at the same time wasn’t uncommon for you two, causing the both of you to let out a breathy laugh.

“you can go first honey,” his light whisper fell into the air as if he were too scared to talk any louder.

“jude, you really hurt my feelings earlier. i just wanted to spend time with you and you made it seem like i was asking for a million dollars or something bigger. i didn’t feel heard during our conversation but unfortunately i can’t sleep without you. so i was coming to drag you to bed even though i’m still very mad at you.”

“baby i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for hurting your feelings. i want you to know that i don’t mean it. hell, everyone knows i’m the clingy one! you’re the love of my life and i would spend days mending whatever hurt i caused,” his hands came to rest on your cheeks, fingers softly swiping at the dry tear stains.

“can we go to bed now? i’m exhausted and we can finish talking in the morning,” jude nods in response to you and kisses your nose.

“yeah, let’s go to bed m’love.”

~two~

“hey babe!”

jude looks up from his ipad upon hearing your voice through the phone. he was in germany for match and of course, he asked you to go with him. saying something along the lines of being his good luck charm. you couldn’t originally get the off time from your job.

“i miss you so much.”

“jude, baby you’ve been gone for like two days.”

“and your point is?”

“okay, whatever you say. anyways, i got a package for ya! just open the door.”

the boy failed to realize how close your face was in the camera and how you whispered. you had surprised him by coming to germany, being that your boss changed her mind and let you go. it wasn’t like you asked for off time a lot anyways.

“what?”

“can you open the door baby?”

jude jumps off the bed and practically leaps to the door. swinging it open to find you with a toothy smile. he rushes to hug you, bending down to your hight and pulling you into his arms.

“you said you couldn’t come!”

“surprise! my boss decided to let me take the time off last minute. i found the first flight here.”

“how’d you get to the hotel? i would’ve picked you up.”

“it wouldn’t have been a surprise then.”

he detaches himself from you to grab your bag, then grabbing your hand, walking you inside. you take a seat on the couch that was sitting in the room and smiled as your boyfriend put your bag next to his.

“i can’t believe you’re here.”

“well believe it,” jude sat next to you and began pressing kisses into whatever inch of skin he could get to.

“babe relax,” you say, in between giggles as he continued his work down to your neck. only getting off you when you pushed his shoulder back.

“i just missed you.”

“it’s been two days!”

“so what.”

~three~

you’ve become familiar with jude being your passenger princess. you never minded, it was just nice having someone to drive with. so, you took him on another one of your side quests. thrifting.

“i hope i find something good this time. last time we went, it was a bunch of bullshit.”

“i’m kinda hoping i see something i like,” you gasp into response to him, quickly looking at him and then looking back at the road.

“woah, thee jude bellingham is interested in thrifting?”

“oh come off it.”

“i’m just saying! i literally never heard you say anything like that. just making sure my ears heard correctly,” you give him a teasing smile.

“i will jump into oncoming traffic.”

“no you won’t.”

“i swear i will.”

“i’m calling your bluff.”

the silence in the car became loud as you both tested one another.

“no i won’t.”

“ha! i knew it.”

“whatever, drive faster loser. all the good stuff are gonna be gone.”

~four~

you wake up finding the bed empty. jude’s side is made up, totally not uncommon. you figured he was at training and got out of bed to get something to eat. as you walked to the kitchen, you find your boyfriend with his bare back towards you.

“good morning darling,” he turns his head to face you with a small smile.

“good morning. what’s all this?”

“i wanted to cook for you! training was canceled today because of a family emergency. i was gonna surprise you in bed but of course you had to wake up early.”

“that’s very sweet of you,” you make your way towards him and wrap your arms around his waist. pressing your front into his back, hugging him as tight as you could. you leaned up to kiss the back of his shoulder blade before stepping away.

“let’s spend the day inside.”

“are you sure jude? i know today is my off day but you don’t have to stay in with me.”

“i want to.”

jude plates the food and sits it on the dining room table. you follow close behind and go to grab your chair. instead, jude pulls out your chair for you. pushing you in before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. sitting down next to you, you both began to eat. a comfortable silence fills the room as you both ate. his free hand resting on your thigh, caressing the skin beneath his fingers.

“i love you so much. thank you for this.”

“you shouldn’t have to thank me. i’m your boyfriend, it’s a job of mine to make sure you’re feeling loved at all times.”

“trust me, i feel all the love right now.”

“it still wouldn’t be enough to express how much i truly am in love with you darling.”

“don’t get sappy on me bellingham,” you teased, watching his face attempt to hide a smile.

“oh we wouldn’t want that,” he plays along and kisses your cheek, making you both laugh in the process.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst

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howtofightwrite · 3 days

Note

How often would a person have to get jumped to affect their morphology (both bone, brain, muscles and fat), if it began in late childhood and throughout the puberty process. Bonus info, the person is fighting or fleeing with good effectivness most of the time, with the fight or flight system being fully functional.

Like, being physically bullied as a child did make me physically stronger, and forced me to develop a lot of resistance, resistance I lost after the bullying stopped because I'm a couch potato. Mostly in resistance training, with some clenching strength (but that's from gymnastics).

So, resistance and strong clenching muscles.

Yeah, that doesn't work.

Psychologically, abuse can cause you to come back stronger (or, break you completely), but it doesn't cause you to become physiologically stronger.

As you get older, your ability to fully recover from injuries diminishes. So, if you're younger, you've got a better chance of fully recovering, but that's still taking a physical toll on you. Similarly, if you do take the time to build yourself up, and get training, that may be provoked by your abuse, but it's not caused by it.

The aphorism, “that which does not kill me makes me stronger,” might be empowering, but as you get older, you start to understand that maybe it should be read as, “that which does not kill me makes me stranger.”

I don't mean to diminish your experiences, but the person you became as a result of that was a product of how you chose to deal with those challenges, and overcame them. It was not a product of deterministic biological processes.

Now, having said that, you can learn from physical trauma. You can learn to judge how much of your body's pain response can be ignored, in the moment. You can learn to keep a cool head through an adrenaline rush.

However, if you're regularly dealing with physical strain, that will have a severe toll on your body. I had my first conversation with my doctor about the eventual need for knee replacement surgery before I turned 40. (I still have my original knees, but I also experience bone on bone grinding.) Intensive martial arts training, gymnastics, or violence, will wear your body down with shocking speed.

Traumatic experiences make you into who you are. They can drive you to become a better person than you were before, but you own that choice. That was your decision, not something that someone else did to you.

Adversity can be a motivator or it can destroy you. Ultimately, how you deal with that is your choice. But it was your choice. Saying, “bullying made me stronger,” robs you of the decision you made, it takes away the strength you found, and assumes that it was a passive consequence. It wasn't. You became stronger because what you chose to do. (Also, because kids do get physically stronger as they get older. That's kinda how that pesky 'growing up' thing works.)

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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sturniolosluvv · 3 days

Text

‘OBSESSED’ - matt sturniolo

parings . mattsturniolo X f!reader.

genre . smut/horrorish

word count . 618

| content warnings . smut , use of petnames , p in v , unprotected sex , stalker!matt , degradation , rough sex , knifes , crime.

matthew sturniolo was known as the shy , rude boy, he’d ignore anyones antics to get his attention, and yes he is a good looking boy but he’s too shy. i once saw him try talk to a girl and ended up spilling her drink over her , and that’s why he’s my best friend , we’d been best friends ever since his brother christopher ran over to me and “accidentally” tripped me up im sure it was too get my attention

“hey matt can you pass that top” i saw covering myself under his blanket, oh did i forget to mention we fuck from time to time. its nothing abnormal for me to be laying naked in my best friends bed is it? he tosses the shirt at me.

“there you go ma” he smiles

“turn around” i tut, he rolls his eyes but turns around.

“i gotta go now matt i love you”

“i love you more”

“not possible” he smiles and shakes his head as i walk out the door swaying my hips as i know he’s looking at my ass.

i was laying in my bed it had been 48 hours since and me and matt had lasted fucked, i was aching too be touched, i grabbed my vibrator and put it against my aching clit.

“mphmmmm matt“ i moan as a arch my back.

matts pov-

i was watching her through her window , she looked pretty she hadn’t called me or texted me and im not one to message first , her body was on display she looked so beautiful , i plam mylsef through my jeans she moaned my name i felt like i was going too crumble ,

“YO TF U DOING“ i hear a voice shout at me , i quickly take my hand off,

“bro“ he says walking up to me,

“you getting off to that girl in there“ he says looking at her aswell.

“whats it gotta do with you?” i say,

“nahhh man im just saying i would too i mean look at her”

i clench my jaw and pull out my knife i walk up to him and grab him by the neck,

“fuck you just say?”

he looks into my eyes chocking

“n-no” i slit his throat and drop him walking away from the scene back to my car.

| to my girl -

| hey ma can i come over ?

| from my girl -

| please and hurry up

| to my girl -

| open the door

i stand at her door awkwardly waiting for her to open it ,

“hey you got here quick” she breaths out

“oh yeah i was just going to the gas station and yeah uhm” i stumble over my words

“come in handsome” she smiles

y/ns pov -

i pull matt in by his shirt and capture his lips into a needy kiss , i smile as his fights for dominance,

“jump” he demands

i do as he says and jump into his arms as he carries us to the couch ,

he disconnects our lips and runs his hands down my body

“does my girl need to be touched hm?”

“please matt” i says as i lean into his touch

“what do u want princess? my mouth” he says kissing down my thighs,

“my fingers” he says rubbing my clothed clit

“d-dick” i moan

he takes his boxers and pants off,

“spit” he says holding his hand in front of my mouth , using my spit as lube

“fuck” he says pushing into me

“always so tight for me mama”

“faster” i whine , as he pounds into my leaning my head on my chest sucking my nipples ,

“MHPH MATT”

“gonna cum for me?”

“y-y-yes”

“good girl” he says rubbing my clit

“matt fuck im gonna-“ before i get cut off with a loud banging ,

“POLICE OPEN UP” i look at matt as he rushes off pulling his boxers and staring at me leaving me unfinished.

“i love you mama” he smiles before walking to the door.

“matt what the fuck”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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anonymous-dentist · 24 hours

Text

Or: a PJO AU

Cellbit hasn't been a demigod since he was eight years old staring a snake woman in the eyes in downtown Manhattan. It's been almost ten years since then, and he hasn't bothered with the gods since. (Good riddance.)

But then, of course, Richarlyson.

And then, of course, the spiders.

Oh, the spiders...

So now Cellbit has Richarlyson in the back seat of a stolen car with Pac and Mike on either side of him, Felps riding shotgun and shouting insults at the dozen or so dog-sized spiders chasing them down the highway. They're just under five minutes away from where Cellbit vaguely remembers camp being, which means Richarlyson is just under five minutes away from what is going to be the worst day of his life.

(Cellbit never got claimed, thank the gods. Mike says that he doesn't believe in divine authority, so he won't recognize whoever his parent is. Pac is long-claimed by now, but this also isn't his camp or pantheon. And Felps is... Felps.)

Richarlsyon has his headphones on, and he's watching The Lorax on his tablet (also stolen.) This is probably why the spiders are chasing them, but Cellbit doesn't have the heart to take it away from them.

Spiders... eugh. Of course, it just had to be spiders.

Cellbit watches a spider lunge for the driver's side door via the side mirror.

With a grimace, he takes one hand off of the wheel and slams his door open with his free hand.

The spider goes flying, and it's immediately run over and squished into a spider-shaped mass of goo on the road.

"Ewwww," Pac complains.

Cellbit wrinkles his nose in agreement. He pulls his door shut and stabilizes the car and tries not to think about how the squished-up spider is going to reform in a second and come after him and probably, like, murder him in his sleep after he drops Richarlyson off.

(The downside of refusing to associate with the gods for a decade is a distinct lack of celestial bronze weaponry. Except for...)

"Keep an eye out for a sign," Cellbit tells the others. "It's... strawberries? Something about strawberries."

The car jerks as a couple of spiders leap onto the trunk and start hissing.

Cellbit swears and sharply turns the car to the left, sending the spiders- and Mike- flying.

Mike shouts, and then he screams as a spider jumps up onto the window next to him.

"What the fuck?" he yells. "Pac!"

"Got it!" Pac cheerily says.

With only a little hesitation, he unbuckles his seat belt, leans across both an unbothered Richarlyson and a freaked-out Mike, rolls the window down, and stabs the spider through with the blade of his gladius. The spider screeches and dissolves into dust.

One down, so many more to go.

Pac grins and sits back in his seat. He ruffles Richarlyson's hair as he does so, retracting his sword back into his watch and re-buckling his seat belt.

Cellbit turns his attention back to the road. No signs yet... but it's also been ten years since he's been in New York, let alone at camp. Things could have changed. Things probably did change, and probably not for the better. Maybe the campers lost the war. Maybe the Titans won (but probably not considering the world hasn't been destroyed in the years since 2009.) Maybe Bagi-

"Delphi Strawberry Service," Felps hums. He looks at Cellbit. "Is that it?"

Cellbit answers by jerking the car so hard to the right that everybody inside, himself included, is pulled to the side. He grits his teeth and tries to stay as upright as he can.

(Why is he the only one who can drive, again?)

The car pulls onto a familiar gravel road. There's a tall tree on the hill ahead of them. Even through the windows, Cellbit can smell the scent of sweet, fresh strawberries and bonfire smoke. There are people on the hill braiding flowers.

The spiders continue giving chase. One must manage to puncture one of the tires with its fangs, because one of the lights on the dashboard goes red, and the car starts to wobble and slow down.

Cellbit groans and presses his foot to the gas. "Nooo, come on!"

They're so close! He can see the Golden Fleece waving in the wind.

He can also see a very large statue of a woman towering above the treeline. She looks... familiar. In a bad way.

Cellbit shudders and tears his eyes away from the statue. It's none of his business, anyway; he's just dropping Richarlyson off, and then he and the others are leaving before they're noticed.

Another tire is popped. The car stops.

Finally, Richarlyson takes his headphones off.

"Where are we?" he asks.

Cellbit tries to smile at him through the rear-view mirror.

"We're going to summer camp, remember?" he attempts.

Richarlyson- six years old and too smart for his age- does not appear to be too happy about that statement. Makes sense, he didn't want to leave California in the first place. Cellbit doesn't blame him; the weather is much more tolerable there than it is in New York.

The car shakes as spiders start climbing it. They start trying to break through the windows using their evil little spider legs and their absolutely horrifying spider fangs: enormous pointy things oozing a purple liquid that bubbles as it hits the glass.

Cellbit bites back a whimper. They're so big...

Pac's mouth narrows. He presses the button on his watch and only flinches a little as his gladius pops out of it.

Mike steels himself. He clicks his seat belt off, and he picks his bag up off of the floor and puts it in his lap- ready to run.

Felps, though, smiles wide and turns around in his seat to look at Richarlyson.

"Are you ready to run again?" he asks.

Richarlyson is good at many things, but he's best at running away from his problems (just like everyone else in the car), and the killer spiders are definitely problems.

So Richarlyson nods and clutches his tablet to his chest. He should really leave it behind, but...

"On the count of three," Cellbit tells everybody.

He takes his seat belt off and gets his backpack from the floor by his feet. He checks his boot and lets out a tense breath. Okay. It's there.

"Um," Cellbit says.

The spiders manage to crack the back windshield. Richarlyson gasps and rushes to take his seat belt off.

"Dois."

Pac yanks his seat belt off and grabs the door handle. His eyes flicker between the spiders and Richarlyson and Mike and Cellbit and Felps, though they linger on Felps for just a moment too long to be normal.

(Oh, Pac...)

"Três!"

Cellbit shoves the door open and jumps out of it, pulling his knife from his boot and stabbing it right into the abdomen of the closest spider.

"Wait, you meant on three!?" Pac screeches, tumbling out of the car and swinging his gladius at the nearest group of spiders.

"Yes!" Cellbit snaps. "What did you think I meant?"

He rips the knife out of the spider, panting heavily from both fear and exhilaration. The edges of his vision are red and dripping with blood, but the spider simple crumbles into dust at his hands.

Mike stumbles out of the car, Richarlyson in his arms and his bag on his back.

"I thought you meant after you counted to three!" Pac shouts.

He spins in a neat circle and manages to decapitate two spiders at once. They dissolve, but two more spiders take their places immediately.

Mike takes off down the road towards the hill, grumbling about Richarlyson's weight as he goes. Richarlyson starts talking about Mike's weight in return, and there are spiders.

There are spiders.

Oh fuck.

Knife's effects be damned, Cellbit screams and jerks backwards in sheer terror as a spider scrambles onto his side of the car. He falls onto his ass on the gravel and scoots away, eyes wide. His hands shake and his vision flickers back into something resembling normalcy and he can't breathe- fucking spiders, of course they're spiders! What else would they be? Fucking spiders, of course!

"Cellbit!" Pac cries.

"I've got him," Felps says, finally getting out of the car.

He calmly raises his arms above his head and stretches. As he does so, he walks around the side of the car and crouches by Cellbit's side.

"These things suck," he tells Cellbit, voice so low that Cellbit is convinced that only he can hear it. "Let's just run away."

There's just that smallest hint of magic in his voice, but Cellbit isn't worried about it. No, he's used to it. He's known Felps basically since he ran away, he's more than used to it.

His body stands. Cellbit only comes back to himself as he's approaching the hill, Felps and Pac close behind.

He skids to a stop just in front of the camp borders. He can seen Mike and Richarlyson already safe on the other side, and he can see a group of campers gathered around them and attending to Richarlyson, whose fake tears are convincing enough to get three or so campers to give him all of their flower crowns and chains.

Pac crosses the border and shivers. He immediately runs to Mike's side, clicking his gladius away and taking Richarlyson from him.

Felps stops next to Cellbit.

"Come on," he whispers. "The spiders, man."

Cellbit gulps. He feels all tingly; the statue of the woman stares angrily down at him, furious over his very existence.

A spider hisses, entirely too close to Cellbit for his comfort.

He yelps and rushes across the border, and it feels like his first breath of fresh air in a decade as he does so.

He hates it.

Felps follows, sticking close to Cellbit's side. He smiles and waves politely at the campers staring at the two of them.

Or, well. Staring at the air over Cellbit's head.

One of the campers, a taller boy with messy brown hair and a blue bandana loosely tied around his forehead, looks positively befuddled. Why?

"Don't get any bright ideas," Cellbit warns the campers. "I'm not staying. None of us are."

Richarlyson raises a dejected hand. "Except for me. They're abandoning me..."

He bursts into a fresh round of crocodile tears. Most of the campers coo and gather around him and Pac and Mike; Cellbit watches as Pac steals the watch off of a girl's wrist, and as Mike snags a solid handful of golden rings from several different campers. (Nothing ever changes.)

But the boy with the bandana keeps staring at Cellbit.

Slightly unnerved, Cellbit shuffles closer to Felps, who ignores him and looks up at the statue with his hand acting as a visor over his eyes.

"Oh, look. The Athena Parthenos," he comments. "When did that get here?"

Athena...

He nudges Cellbit in the side with a grin. "Look, Cellbit. It's your mom!"

...What?

"No," Cellbit firmly says, completely ignoring the various puzzle pieces clicking into place in his head. "I don't have a mom. Now, come on, we need to take care of the..."

He trails off as he turns around and sees the gaggle of spiders pressed up against the camp's barrier hissing and quivering and oozing.

His voice trails off into a whisper: "...spiders."

He can't help it. He drops his knife in shock, and, as he does so, an ice-cold needle jams itself into the side of his brain.

Cellbit immediately drops to his knees and scrambles to pick the knife up. He wipes it on his jeans, holds it, looks at it, loves it.

His reflection in the blade is clear. The glowing golden owl symbol floating above his head is even clearer.

"Told you," Felps says.

Cellbit reaches back and smacks his leg. Felps kicks at him. Cellbit smacks him again.

Richarlyson starts crying again. This time, he sounds serious. (He is only six...)

Cellbit sighs and stands, carefully tucking his knife back into his boot as he does so.

As he raises his head, he's met with the boy with the bandana standing only a foot or so away from him with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey," he says, "so if you don't want to stay, keep away from the training grounds. The Athena cabin is down there, and I... well, let's just say the head counselor is gonna want to see you."

He winks, and he walks off to join the other campers.

The Athena cabin's head counselor... who? If he's, then... oh, fuck.

Cellbit grabs Felps' arm and looks up at him desperately.

"Kill the spiders," he begs. "Please. We need to get out of here."

Felps pats the back of Cellbit's head reassuringly.

He smiles. "No."

And then he goes to squeeze through the campers to get to Richarlyson, who immediately brightens upon seeing him.

Cellbit looks at the spiders. He looks at the- what did Felps call it?- Athena Parthenos. He looks at the campers.

He looks at the hill as there's a scream from it, a screechy: "What the fuck? Are those spiders?"

The boy with the bandana looks up at the girl on the hill and offers a wave. "Bagi! Hey! I thought you were training?"

"I heard screaming," the girl explains. "I came to help."

She has a sword in one of her hands and a shield in the other. She's gotten her nose pierced in the last ten years. She looks... happy.

Quietly, Cellbit starts backing away. If he can make it into the woods and then run, he might be able to outsmart the spiders before they can catch him.

The girl looks at Richarlyson. She looks at Pac and Mike and Felps.

And then she looks at Cellbit, and she drops her sword.

Yeah, no.

Cellbit turns on his heel, and he books it into the forest.

He hasn't been a demigod in ten years, and he sure as hell isn't going to start again now.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#qsmppjo au #<- that's it that's the tag #idk how happy i am with this? but i love writing these types of chase-action scenes

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marimeeko · 18 hours

Text

Just had a thought:

Jumping off off the moments where izuku tried to talk to his peers, Aoyama leaving, feeling like he failed Tenko, losing OFA, and feeling overall disconnected suddenly(at least, we can read between the lines that he is) from his peers and even from his dream...

What if this epilogue includes Izuku considering LEAVING UA? Has anyone else had the thought that he may end up there?

The logic being that once he has no Quirk, he won't fit into the Hero course. And if he represses all of these emotions like we think he is, he might take that to mean that he doesn't deserve a spot in the Hero course, and have the idea to withdraw.

Obviously this all needs to pan out BUT what if this thing with his friends almost blowing him off, just kind of adds to that negative feeling? Like makes him feel a certain way, like they're already moving on without him?

So he comes to a conclusion that maybe he should withdraw. His friends react of course as you expect they would, likely being shocked and sad, but also knowing hes going through a lot, and so trying to be supportive no matter what? They tell him "hey you dont have to, you have a place with us", but ultimately will support his decision without fighting him too hard, as the case with Aoyama seems to be...but it's REALLY KATSUKI who takes it home. Who NEEDS to take it home, and say what the others won't.

It's Katsuki who confronts him, and has to talk him down from the idea.

And what if that's how we get a Kacchan v Deku 3? Which does not have to be, and really needn't be a literal fight.

It just needs to be that long awaited airing out of all of the unspoken feelings, mainly Izukus feelings of failure (failing to protect Katsuki during the war, failing to save Tomura/Tenko, failing to even hold on to his own dream, ie OFA) and what it all means for his future.

How he thinks logically, if his quirk runs out eventually, he can't be Quirkless in the Hero class. How that dashes all hopes of staying a Pro Hero in the future...

Maybe even what he is thinking about society and pro heroism as a whole now!

Katsukis got to convince him that He is a hero, deserves to be a hero more than anyone. Maybe even concedes that even if the dream of being a hero traditionally speaking has changed, there are so many other ways he can continue making a difference.

How much of a difference he has already made.

And that is when it gets personal, and katsuki confesses further, "you've made all the difference in the world to me already" or something. Maybe spills some more sentimental feelings. Maybe Izuku finally spills some of his, maybe we get a hand hold and or an embrace....

And katsuki makes him promise that he won't give up yet. And if he has to leave the Hero course, he switch to one of the other courses in UA to continue his dream in another route. And promising to be with him every step of the way.

And maybe idk, suggesting they be Hero Partners and open an agency together or something romantic like that. Lmao.

Throw in maybe a little bit of spice somewhere about Katsuki getting worked up and Izuku having a moment of worry about his heart/health and Katsuki retorting that his heart is fine and not to derail their conversation by "worrying about my stupid heart"

Bonus points if there are tears involved, there usually are lol.

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zzoguri · 3 days

Text

05:43 ➵ kim gyuvin

kim gyuvin x reader

gyuvin wakes up in the middle of the night to see you awake, and he wonders if you’ll be the same face he’ll last see before he enters slumber.

general genre/warnings ➵ established relationship, fluff, thoughts about the future, reader crochets, reader is small enough to wear his hoodie (meaning it’s oversized), eumppappa appearance

word count ➵ 512 words

a/n ➵ happy birthday @vernyangel <3 i thought i'd make smth just for you so i hope you enjoy this cute, fluffy, and very intimate fic <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog & leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

gyuvin can’t recall what time he fell asleep. exhausted from work, he doesn’t remember if he shut his eyes beside the greyhound before telling you, good night. and if he’ll be honest, he can’t remember if you said it back.

what he does remember is the last thing he saw before he dozed off—you. your fixated gaze on the patch of yarn that’s grown two times since the last time he’s seen it. the sight of you who drowns in his hoodie (which has become his favorite piece from his closet). how the hands of the clock halt whenever he’s with you.

the view he fell asleep to happens to be the same one he wakes up to. all slouched, you still work on the same patch of yarn. you’d flick your hand to relieve the tension but still kept crocheting.

your heart jumps over gyuvin’s hand on your thigh. “fuck!” as you look over to the boy next to you, you’re greeted by his sleepy grin. “you scared me.”

“what time is it?”

you check your phone before saying, “5:43 a.m.”

“not sleepy yet?” he asks only for you to shake your head. as his fingers draw stars on your skin, your hands continue to weave the yarn together. his eyes close for a moment before opening once more, trying to adjust to his surroundings. “where’s eumppappa?”

“he’s by his bed,” you answer. gyuvin glances at his dog who’s in deep slumber. “he was getting a little fussy with you holding him and me, uh, checking to see if the hat would fit him.”

a chuckle leaves him. “typical eumppappa.” you only hum.

with you eyes affixed on your work, gyuvin allows himself to revel in the sight of you.

when was the first time he fell asleep beside you? was it when he first moved into your place, away from prying eyes, that he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you? or was it at the studio, when you brought takeout for the group, allowing him to rest his head on your shoulder during the short break?

and maybe gyuvin can’t recall the first time he stripped off the goofy exterior in front of you. when he didn’t feel the need to put on an act to entertain you. when he allowed himself to exist beside you.

as his arm wraps around your waist, he scoots closer to you. with a confused hum leaving you, he says, “don’t tire yourself out. i’m sure eumppappa can wait for the hat.”

you giggle. “yeah, but i can’t wait.”

“i know.” his lips graze against your waist through the hoodie. “just wanted to remind you.”

a hum leaves you. “go to sleep. i’ll see you in the afternoon.”

with that, no other word is exchanged between you two.

gyuvin can’t remember when he let you carve a spot into his life, and he can’t recall when you let him into yours, but maybe those details don’t matter, anyway.

all he knows is that this is a life he wants to keep.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #kim gyuvin #kim gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin imagines #kim gyuvin fluff

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alexa-fika · 2 days

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Hello, can you do injuredchild!dokucha x Cross guild. It was buggys fault because he was suppose to take you out on a little walk outside but he then got distracted and now he lost you. They try to find you, mihawk worried. After 2 days, they find out the marinies took you when Buggy wasn't looking.

Thank you, and make sure to drink water

Family Secrets (Cross guild x gn!child!reader)

A/N okay…. I totally missed the injured part of the piece but hopefully this is somewhat what you were expecting. GUYS I AM BACK, I THINK. MY THROAT STILL HURTS BUT PINK EYE IS GONE, I think, BUT I DID IT , BE PROUD OF ME

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stabds for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Cruncle is going to be reallyy mad at Mister Clown if he hears what you said,” the child said, a frown on their face as they looked up at clown

“Bah, he won’t know. I'm no snitch. Are you a snitch?”

“Umm, I don’t think I should keep things from Dad and Cruncle…”

“You should, they could get mad, y’know?”

“Dad and Cruncle are going to get mad at me?!” They cried

“They won’t if you don’t snitch, that will make them happy.”

“O-okay, if it makes Cruncle and Dad upset then I won’t be a snitch!”

“Atta Kid, what does make them happy is for you to call me Uncle Buggy, to hear how good of a time you had with ol Uncle Bugg…!” Buggy grinned, only to frown as the child began tugging at his clothes, trying to get his attention again

“What?! Don’t interrupt me!” He snapped

“But Mister Clown, ships are coming to the island.”

“Yeah, yeah, those are probably more guild members returning after handing out rewards,” he brushed off, trying to continue his previous statement, only to scowl as once again he was interrupted

“But they’re marine ships…

“You little brat let me ta- HAH?!”

His words were promptly cut off as the sound of bombing began to be heard, heavy objects crashing around them; the last thing they heard was the shrill cries of their self-proclaimed uncle

“Oh, you’re Up!”

Dokucha looked up at the sound of the voice, finding themselves being carried by an unfamiliar man in a familiar uniform, upon realizing this, they were quick to scramble off the man with a startled cry

“Hey! Hey! Don’t worry. We are here to rescue you! We’re the good guys!” They exclaimed, kneeling next to the startled child

“Where’s Papa?” They cried, backing away from them

“Papa? Oh! Those slimy pirates must have kidnapped you. Don’t worry, we’ll find your Papa!”

“Dokucha, if you are ever captured, you must not let the Marines know about your relationship with me.” Mihawk started looking at the child in front of him

“No! I Want everyone to know about Papa!” They remembered screaming back at his father’s strange statement only to squeak at the glare the former threw at them at the interruption

“Sorry”

“Listen, it is to protect you. If marines were to know of your relationship with me, they would not be as kind to let you go, making it harder to retrieve you.”

“Harder to come back to Papa?”

“Yes, if they do know of me, you can come back with ease”

“I want everyone to know I’m Papa’s and how awesome he and Cruncle are, but if it means I can come back sooner, I will keep it a secret! I'm really good at keeping secrets!”

“I know you are,” he replied with a small smile, ruffling their hair

“Kid?”

“Ah?”

“Do you know the name of your father?”

“No..,” they sniffled climbing to their feet

“I see; well, just give me a minute. I will report back, and then we will be on our way,” he said pulling out a den den mushi from his coat

“Okay, sorry to make you wait, now let’s head to the ship. I'm sure your father must be close by, and if those scumbags got him, we will save him!”

“Ship?” They questioned

“Yes, we can help you look for him when we make contact with HQ.”

“That won’t be necessary.” A voice cut in

The blinked owlishly as the marine plummeted to the ground, grinning at the familiar figure standing behind them

“Uncle Daz!” They cheered, running and jumping to the arms of the officer

“Are you ready to go?”

“Are we going to find Papa?”

“No. I am already aware of his whereabouts; we are heading back to the guild.”

“Hah? Where is Papa?”

“He is handling the disturbance along with Crocodile; we will rendezvous at the guild.”

“That should be the last of them,” muttered Crocodile, glancing at the destruction surrounding him and his co-worker had created, a chuckle escaping him

“Something you wish to share?,” Mihawk muttered, shedding Yoru behind him

“Never took you for the protective type, Hawkeye.”

“What are you on about?”

“Don’t try to hide it; the kid affects you; there is anger behind your sword.”

“….”

“Has the fearsome Hawkeye gone soft on someone?”

“Hold your tongue if you wish to keep it, Crocodile,” he sighed as he walked away, letting the latter snicker away in amusement only for his amused smile to turn into a scowl around at words

“Not to mention, you have also been affected by them; I was not the only one blinded by rage in this battle.”

“Papa!” Dokucha cheered, running to the arms of the swordsman as he made his way into the guild

“I apologize I did not retrieve you personally. Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Uncle Daz found me from the marine guy,” they cheered, nuzzling into their father's embrace

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, a slight tightening in his hold at the words spoken

“No, but he kept insulting everyone! He was so mean, Papa!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Such a meanie! He kept calling you icky names, but I did as Papa asked and never told him about you!” They grinned, throwing the swordsman a thumbs up

“I knew I could trust you with it, good job” he replied, a smile forming on his face

They beamed at his praise, giggling happily until a thought came to mind

“Eh? Papa, where is mister Clown?”

“Don’t worry about him. He is occupied at the moment; Crocodile is with him.”

“Oh! Is Cruncle taking care Of him? Is he hurt?”

“He is….taking care of him, yes. I will join him soon enough to clear some with the clown as well.”

Here we go, like I said I did miss that injured part but hopefully you guys like it? Im sorry I kept all of you waiting for so long, is everyone still alive? Also im sorry to the buggy fans but….he’s gone, he definitely ain’t surviving this

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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killakalx · 2 days

Note

How do you Dick react to that guy friend you tell your bf not to worry about?

I'm stuck between him being so confident in your relationship that he simply does not care or him taking every opportunity to show that friend what he's missing out on 🤭😏😏

definitely a mix of both. he’s confident that he doesn’t need to prove shit, but he can’t help having his fun yk? he’d have no right to get too mad whenever you entertain that guy friend bc he does the same thing to girls way too often, either bc it’s just his personality to give the people what they want or he’s purposefully trying to piss you off. usually jealousy sex is him fucking you into oblivion to prove a point (cough JASON TODD cough) but dick is obsessed with making you jealous cuz that means he’s either getting a face full of pussy to make it up to you or he’s letting you ride him while you tell him what a slut he is. i could talk about this for hours but this isn’t the topic rn, sawry

saurrrr let’s say you’re at a party. that guy friend is there. instead of mingling around, dick’s basically gluing you to the couch next to him. and let’s say that guy friend is chatting it up with you. dick’s definitely in on the conversation, touching all over you and kindaaaa slipping fabric off to show a little bit of your skin, just to tease the prick. if he’s plotting then dick leaves you there for a sec, just to see what he does, but he’s in ear range waiting for the guy to say some sneaky shit.

he lets “dick got lucky, didn’t he,” slip out and dick leans over the arm of the couch from behind to agree with him, just to make the dumbass jump. just to make ya laugh. he probably drags it on too, brags about how good you are in bed like shit’s sweet, and he probably got permission from you to talk about you like some slut for the sake of rubbing it in his face.

“she’s good, too, y’know that? almost like she was made for my cock.” this kinda convo happens so often you can’t help but laugh when dick’s quite literally describing this dude’s fantasy. “fucks me back without me even telling her to. and man, i think i fell in love all over again the first time she sucked me dry.” he goes ON and ON and ONNNN until the poor guy’s popped a boner just thinking about it. then he throws in one more thing before leaving him to his own devices. “I know her tits look good- i don’t blame you for staring, but those fuck me eyes are what’ll get you on her leash.” so yeah, by the time dick’s escorting you somewhere down the hall of the house, that guy friend definitely knows what he’s missing out on.

#kali ;; inbox #kali ;; dg

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 2 days

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Jessica didn't threaten Gwen - y'all are just mean.

I don't know how to tell y'all this but Jessica did not threaten Gwen. Ever.

She said 'If Miguel finds out I let you come-'

As in 'if Miguel finds out (on his own) that I let you come (here) (it won't look good for either of us)'

And then GWEN reacts as if Jessica threatened to rat her out, even if Jess never did that.

Her saying 'finds out' instead of 'if I tell him' implies that Jess never planned on ratting to Miguel. She was afraid he'd find out some other way - which he did.

Like, yes - Jessica is exasperated here. But not because Gwen saw Miles, she's pissed because The Spot has now escaped.

But she never threatened to rat Gwen out, she never tipped of Miguel about anything. Miguel only found out once the hole opened in Mumbattan.

Even at the end of ATSV, Jessica doesn't rat Gwen out - when she sees Gwen using Hobies portals.

Jessica is the only one that sees Gwen leaving on the rooftop. And because Hobie's portals look different, she knows it's someone close to him. But Hobie doesn't know where Miles lives - Gwen does.

So in this shot, she knows whoever is up there is 1) close to Hobie and 2) knows where Miles lives. That can only be two people - Peter, or Gwen. And Hobie is way closer to Gwen.

Jessica has all the info to know that Gwen is now universe jumping with technology she got from Hobie. That's HUGE information, considering Miguel has no idea that other people can universe jump without his assistance.

Jess still doesn't rat Gwen out.

Jessica isn't perfect considering she was beating the absolute dogshit outta Miles for no reason - but I think people REALLY mischaracterize her relationship with Gwen.

Jessica never threatened Gwen. She never told Miguel anything.

Jessica was the one who let Gwen come to 1610 - hence the 'If Miguel finds out I let you come-'

And when things went south, she still gave Gwen a chance to try and clean up her own mess, by sending her to Mumbattan.

I see a lot of Jess slander and idk man - I just don't get the hate for her.

Jessica did FAR more trying to help out Gwen than Peter did for Gwen or Miles. While Peter physically restrains Miles (ITSV) and gets him caught (ATSV) -

Jessica talks Miguel into accepting Gwen, gives her the mission to 1610, and gives her multiple chances to clean up her mess. All while keeping the info from Miguel until the last possible second.

Was she wrong for kicking Miles in the chest. Yeah. That's unarguable. 😐

Is she a shit mentor? I don't think so!

--------------------000---------------------

I've been meaning to write a longer post about this but it's 2am and I just needed to yell this!!!

I feel like a year out, it's really easy to misremember what exactly was said despite remembering the overall gist of it - but I think small things like these matter in dialogue.

We're meant to react like Gwen - the kneejerk reaction of 'Don't tell Miguel!'.

But Gwen saying that was a reflection of her own fears, NOT a response to a threat given by Jess. Jess never intended on getting Gwen sent home.

Put some respeckt on Jess' name alright 😤😤 She ain't perfect but some of the beef y'all got with her is unfounded frfr

Anyway if you read this far ily here's Hobie

BYE.

#in conclusion.. fuck Peter B.#spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #jessica drew #jess drew #gwen stacy #spider woman #spiderwoman

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epicqtefail · 1 day

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i really love that throughout the game neither Hank nor Connor are in any immediate danger of getting fired by the police department. Fowler lets Hank get away with So Much and Connor doesn't technically answer to anyone at the DPD, he doesn't even work there. It's not like Hank is actually Connor's work superior he's just a glorified keycard/badge to allow Connor access to data. and i imagine if the department wanted him off the case they'd have to jump through hoops with the higher-ups; whoever launched the collaboration with cyberlife. (Cyberlife have the power to take him off the case but hilariously and unfortunately for them Connor is the only bridge allowing them to stay informed about and have some control over the deviancy situation in a legal capacity).

Both of them know this. so Connor acts on his own (often frustration-driven) whims as much as his mental gymnastics to justify it as a means for success allow him to, and Hank will kick up as much of a fuss and drink about it because they both have what are you gonna do, fire me? status.

and that's without taking into account the fact Hank does Not give a shit if he gets fired. That's another element of beautiful chaos to them. Connor has everything to lose, Hank feels as though he has nothing to lose, and the revolution offers them both something to gain :^]

#rambling #Connor's desperate to perform well for cyberlife so that they might use him after the case is over but #thats what makes him behave like a nightmare colleague #not even trying to structure my thoughts cohesively i just love these guys #they barely find anything in regard to the case but they do find themselves uhwoo

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666writingcafe · 2 days

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An Overgrown Puppy

Cerberus

It's really lonely down here.

I understand that most people are scared of a giant dog with three heads, especially when it's as loud as I am, but I don't mean them any harm. I can't help that I get excited easily.

Of course, when they start calling me names, that makes me angry. I suppose that's why I'm in this cavern in the first place: too much destruction on my part.

Still, it would be nice to have someone that wasn't afraid of me.

"Look, there's flowers bloomin' all over the place!"

As much as I want to begin jumping for joy, I must remain calm. The last set of people that came down here wanted to hurt me. I ended up with a couple meals out of the ordeal, but I wouldn't want to go through that experience again. For one, they tasted rather vile. It took me ages to get that out of my mouth, and even with that I can still taste them sometimes when I burp. It's rather annoying.

"Look how pretty we are..."

Oh no. Not the flowers.

Instinctively, I close all six of my eyes. If I can't see them, they can't tempt me, and my mind can remain clear.

Oh for fuck's sake!

That's not my voice. It doesn't belong to the other two heads, either. No, this belongs to someone else entirely.

This was meant to be a solo venture, but nooo. The brothers just HAD to tag along and make this more difficult for me. As it is, I doubt this creature is going to submit to me, anyway. I don't have anything it wants, but somehow Barbatos is convinced that I do.

Barbatos? They know him?

I like him. Unfortunately, he's too busy to take care of me properly, but he at least seemed sad to have to lock me away like this. Still, orders are orders; while the prince is a lot kinder than the king, he still has to worry about the fate of his people, and I've done too much damage to justify me continuing to walk free unsupervised.

Footsteps.

The flowers are still murmuring, so it's not safe for me to open my eyes and see who it is.

Oh. It's you. Hello, Cerberus.

Why are they acting like they know me?

They smell familiar.

Don't be ridiculous. We've never even met them before.

Listen, I know my scents, and I'm telling you, I recognize this one.

Here we go again. My left and right head arguing again. It doesn't help that one can see into the past while the other one into the future. Makes for way too many philosophical conversations that frankly give me a headache.

Then again, they do make sense sometimes. Like right now.

Let him sniff them.

Thankfully, the flowers shut up at this point, so I can finally open my eyes and see this person for myself. They're rather small. Maybe they would make a good appetizer, but chances are, they wouldn't fill me up, so there's no point in even trying.

The being before me extends their hand out towards me, and I lean down low enough so that my right head can sniff it.

MC! I knew it was you!

What's a person from the future doing here? Don't they know that their presence is going to change the timeline completely? They won't be able to return to the same place that they left.

That's a risk I was willing to take.

They can hear us?

I'm a little surprised myself. I thought our connection would be nonexistent here, but I guess you still know who I am. At least, part of you does.

I most certainly do! You give some of the BEST belly rubs and treats ever! Plus, you always come and soothe me whenever I can't sleep. I've missed you SO much, MC. It just isn't the same without you.

Please tell me they don't end up abandoning us. The idea of a good belly rub does sound nice.

No, no, nothing like that. In the timeline that I come from, you're primarily someone else's. I just help take care of you whenever I swing by to visit.

Oh, PLEASE! You're more than a mere caretaker. You're like my adoptive parent at this point. If I knew I wouldn't scare people up in the human world, I'm SURE we'd spend more time together, but as of right now, that simply isn't possible.

I can sort of follow along with the idea this MC being a human and yet appearing like a demon in this moment, but what I don't understand is this: if they don't end up being my owner, then who does?

This guy.

I totally didn't see him walk in. He's rather imposing with his wings spread out like that.

LUCI!!!

"Luci"?

It's short for Lucifer.

"Zephyr, what exactly is going on?" Lucifer asks, frustration evident in his voice. "Why are all of you down here in the first place? This isn't a safe place for you to be in. At all."

"Well, I came under Barbatos' instructions. Can't say the same about your brothers."

"Bullshit."

"You are more then welcome to talk to Barbatos yourself if you don't believe me, but I'm telling you the truth."

"Then why didn't you tell them to go home?"

"Because Mammon wanted to do something that would cause the other demons to finally shut up. He's tired of you all being treated like shit simply because you used to be angels." Lucifer slowly blinks in shock. "Believe me, I had every intention of sending them away, but I also wasn't about to argue with Mammon when he's that passionate about wanting to improve your situation here in the Devildom."

Six more demons appear, but they hover around the entrance, too afraid to step inside. Lucifer turns his head and looks straight at me, appearing deep in thought. It's clear that he's not the same person that my right head recognizes. Not because of his appearance, but rather his personality. He seems way too cold and rigid to love an animal.

Then again, I've heard that sometimes, those that appear that way end up being the ones that care about others the most. Maybe he's just putting up a emotional barrier at the moment, and he'll open up eventually.

"I suppose there's not room for him at your place, is there?" Lucifer finally sighs, maintaining eye contact with me.

"Unfortunately, no," MC/Zephyr answers. "And I don't want him wandering the woods by himself. He could get hurt." Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I really don't want to do this, but he seems rather attached to you, and it would be cruel to leave him here without knowing if and when he can see you again." He pauses. "He can stay at the House of Lamentation with us, but he's your responsibility, Zephyr. I don't want to hear you complain about having to take care of him, and you're certainly not going to push him onto one of us. If you can't manage that and still complete your duties as our attendant, then I'll have no choice but to put him back in here." MC/Zephyr nods their head.

"Understood." There's a slight glint in their eye, but either Lucifer doesn't notice it or is simply choosing not to comment on it.

It doesn't really matter in any case, because I'm about to be free of this cave! Oh, to breathe fresh air again!

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me cerberus #obey me mc #obey me lucifer

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woozihaes · 11 hours

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pairing: sorta s.coups x f!reader, but i'm really just writing this to be funny warnings: hockey!au, but i have no idea what i'm doing or what i'm talking about. notes: inspired by @bfwonu's hockey/figure skater au and the short fic that @97-liners wrote for it.

hat trick

"a bake sale?" seungcheol, captain of the hockey team, has the audacity to laugh. "are you serious?"

"i don't see you coming up with better ideas," you snap, rolling your eyes and slamming your pen on the table of the reserved study room. "i mean, a beefcake calendar? really?"

seungcheol looks personally offended. "you think they won't sell? have you seen my team?"

you shake your head. you had no idea how it was statistically possible that the entire hockey team were probably almost all of the prettiest boys on the varsity roster, but you weren't about admit it. "i'm vetoing this. the boys on the figure skating team aren't going to do this. it's obviously just to show off and stroke the hockey team's members' egos."

"we need money," seungcheol argues, voice rising. "sex sells!"

"we're in college! we're not supposed to be selling sex!" you shriek, horrified.

"just because you're a bunch of prudes—"

you both jump when someone bangs on the door to your room.

"SHUT UP! we're trying to study out here!" someone screams, and you color. seungcheol, for all his cocky bravado, has the decency to do the same.

"sorry!" you say, loud enough for the person to hear, and then whisper-shout, "bake sale!"

"calendar," seungcheol whisper-shouts back, and you know he does it to be petty.

their heads turn when the door opens, and a miffed-looking guy pokes his head in. his hair is shaggy and you can imagine that his canines would be a cute feature of his if he weren't frowning.

"hey, cap, mind lowering the volume?" he asks. "trying to study out here."

"we're just about done here, actually," cheol announces, getting up and gathering his things. "sorry for the noise, mingyu."

mingyu looks surprised, but then withdraws quickly. "oh, okay. thanks, anyway." he shuts the door behind him.

you whirl on seungcheol. "we're not done!"

"yes, we are," he says firmly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "no bake sale."

you sputter. "then no beefcake calendar!"

"see? done." he's halfway through the door when he winks your way. "let's fight about something else tomorrow."

he's long gone before you muster a response.

"this," seungkwan—who seungcheol wrangled (threatened?) into signing up as the event organizer, because of course he'd nominate someone else—declares, "is a terrible idea."

"i think it's wonderful," you chirp merrily. you hold out your hand for the payment the girl next in line seems eager to dump into your hand. "your captain said it himself: sex sells."

"on paper!" seungkwan cries frantically, gesturing to the long, long, long line of ladies awaiting their turn. "this is practically assault!"

your eyes dart to the sign above you. kissing booth. "oh, come off it. it's not that bad. besides, it's not like your captain didn't approve of it."

although it is, you admit, pretty bad. you thought it was a good idea at the time when you kind-of-sort-of predicted a decent turn out (you weren't blind to the hockey team's collective good looks). but at this point, the beefcake calendar would have been a salacious, but ultimately safer, option.

you have no idea what seungcheol was thinking, agreeing to this booth.

"mingyu is missing," seungkwan cries. "he's been gone for half an hour! what if someone kidnapped him?"

you flash him a look. "what are you talking about? he's huge. there's no way they could drag a guy like that off campus."

"my turn!" the girl next in line declared. she didn't even wait for you take the money—she simply dropped it on the table in front of you and whirled on her victim. one of the players—whose name you learned was d.k.—shrieked and sprang into a sprint.

"he should be in track," you comment off-handedly. "see him pump his arms like that? he could easily run the hundred meter without breaking a sweat."

next!" you call, but find surprise when it's not a girl, but a guy lined up. in fact, it's seungcheol. "um. hi?"

seungkwan blanches. "wait—"

seungcheol rolls his eyes. "calm down, kwan. i'm not in it for the hockey team." he turns to you and raises and eyebrow. "i wanna kiss you."

your jaw drops so fast you're sure you hear a comical, resounding clank. "what?"

seungkwan's jaw does the same.

"come on," cheol says good-naturedly. "if you put my boys through it, i gotta put the figure skating team through it, too."

you sputter, "b-but—"

he rolls is eyes. "seriously, your girls got off scot-free with that bake sale you went behind my back for, by the way," he says with a shake of his head. "have to take my revenge somehow."

you're still not comprehending. "but—!"

he rolls his eyes and pulls out enough bills to cover five times the cost of one kiss. "here. you can't turn me away now."

you swallow. that is a good amount of money... "fine. one kiss."

"i'm paying you," he retorts. "i get to make the rules, no?"

he leans forward and it's so sudden that you jump away. "wait, i'm—"

seungcheol grunts. "oh, for—" and it all happens faster than you can blink.

his hand cups the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. his mouth slants over yours, and the first thing you think is his lips are warm and soft.

it's a nice kiss. it's a good kiss. and you find yourself—

someone clears their throat very loudly, evidently very annoyed. you try not to think that that's maybe because you were kissing the captain of the hockey team for long enough a time to consider it "sucking face."

you jump away from seungcheol, dazed, blinking away your confusion. the girl behind the hockey captain is practically glaring at the two of you, and seungcheol sheepishly moves to the side.

in a haze, you take her money and she slides away to find her victim (based on the trill shriek off in the distance, you're guessing d.k.'s a crowd favorite).

"well," seungcheol coughs. "um. yeah."

"yeah," you croak, and you feel embarrassed that that's all you can muster.

"i think, um, i think seungkwan left," he says, a little too woodenly for it to be natural. "i'll, uh. i'll—i'll look for him."

"sure," you say, equally as wooden. you don't look after him when he leaves.

"i'm literally right here," seungkwan declares, but you barely hear him over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #svt fic #scoups x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic

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