#Hey Neighbour! series

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Three - Playdate

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Daniel held Olivia's hands as they walked towards the house. There was a cat sat outside of the door, watching as the approached. When they got too close, the cat scarpered, running into the neighbours garden.

Stepping up to the door, Daniel knocked. He squeezed Olivias hand as they waited for the door to open.

"Coming!" Came a faraway voice. In no time at all the door was open and Y/N was welcoming the two of them into her house.

"Hey Olivia!" Y/N cheered as she pulled open the door.

Daniel grinned as he and his daughter stepped inside. "Hey," he said as Y/N shut the door. "Thanks for doing this." He muttered the last part, trying not to let Olivia hear him.

"It's no problem," she said, walking in front of them and leading them into the living room. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

As soon as Olivia was in the living room, Milo was on his feet, shouting his name as he ran towards her. The two embraced and Milo pulled her into the middle of the room, where he had a collection of toys already set out. "My Momma said we can watch a movie while we play," he said, sitting on the floor.

As the two began playing, Daniel sat on one of the sofas and Y/N walked in with glasses of water for her guests. "What're we watching, kids?" She asked as she sat on the opposite side of the sofa to Daniel.

"Barbie," Olivia said instantly.

"Momma no! I don't want to watch barbie!" Milo suddenly called.

Y/N opened a streaming service and began scrolling through the kids section. "How about we find something we can all agree on?" She said calmly as she searched for a movie.

They settled on the Lorax. The kids played as Daniel and Y/N watched over them, the film playing in the background.

As they played, Y/N shuffled closer to Daniel. "I wasn't sure what to get for dinner so I got several different pizzas. I hope that's okay."

"That's more than okay," Daniel said as he took off his Red Bull hat. "Olivia doesn't get pizza very often."

"Why's that?" She asked as she looked at him, her body full turned towards him (this didn't go unnoticed by Milo and Olivia).

Daniels fingers drummed against the arm of the sofa. "She might have it at her mums place, but Livvy insists she eats like me when she's at mine so she can be just like her daddy."

Before Y/N could push for more information, Olivia turned around. "Daddy, shut up!" She called.

Suddenly, Daniel levelled her with a look. "Do you want to try that again, little lady?"

She blushed pink and looked down at her socks. "Daddy, could you be quiet so Milo and I can watch the TV?"

It was better, but Olivia still could have been politer. But Daniel let it go. He didn't push, didn't want to embarrass her in front of her friend.

Towards the end of the movie Y/N got up. She stood from the sofa and walked out of the room, leaving them there while she went to the kitchen. With the doors open, she could hear as the kids watched TV and played while she put the pizzas in the oven and set a timer on her phone.

After a short episode of scooby doo, the kids were sat at the kitchen table, two pizzas in front of them. They picked and chose which pizza they wanted, leaving what they didn't. Y/N knew they'd never eat it all, leaving what they didn't want for her and Daniel.

After they had eaten, Milo pulled Olivia out of the kitchen, and up to his bedroom. Poppy that cat had made her way up to his bedroom while they were all downstairs, sleeping on Milo's bed. But, as soon as she heard them running up the stairs, she scarpered, running down the stairs and out of the cat flap.

Full and tired from an afternoon of playing, Milo and Olivia soon found themselves asleep on the floor. Their parents found them when Y/N gave Daniel and tour of their small house. She picked up Milo and placed him in his bed as Daniel scooped up Olivia.

"I guess we should get going," he said, holding her in his arms.

Y/N looked towards her bedroom. She and Daniel hadn't had a proper chance to talk, and she wanted to know more. He was intriguing, incredibly so, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not yet. "Well, you could let her have a nice little sleep in here," she said and pushed open her bedroom door.

Daniel grinned as he walked Olivia into the bedroom. He laid her down onto the bed and laid her down in it, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

Leaving the door open to give her some light, Y/N took Daniel back downstairs. They walked through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The porch light was on as they sat on the swinging chair and faced each other. "Can I ask you something rather personal?" She asked as she gently rocked the chair with her foot.

"Go for it," Daniel replied, Poppy the cat suddenly jumping up between them. She ignored her owner, immediately settling onto Daniels lap, promptly falling asleep.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. It was something that had been weighing on her mind for the last week, something that Milo had told her when he first met Olivia. "Milo says Olivia doesn't like her mum. Can I ask what that's about?"

The smile dropped from Daniel’s face. He did that a lot, Y/N had begun to realise from the two times she had met him, He shifted in his seat as he scratched at Poppy’s coat. “Olivia doesn’t talk to me about what happens at her mum’s house. But she does talk to my parents. She doesn’t hit her, but she does make her miserable. Olivia gets locked in her room whenever she shows the slightest hint of attitude and her mum’s constant stream of boyfriends piss her off. She said that once, that they piss her off. I’ll let you guess where she learned that.”

Daniel went on, becoming more and more distressed. But Poppy pawing at his leg stopped him. He scratched at her chin and looked at Y/N, letting a smile cross his face. “Anyway,” he said. “My turn with the deep questions.”

He asked the one question Y/N wasn’t keen on answering. Not that she wanted it to be a secret, and she was definitely going to answer him. But after five years it still wasn’t the easiest subject to talk about.

“I was nineteen when I found out I was pregnant with Milo. I told my partner at the time, and he wanted nothing to do with me. I told my parents, and they wanted nothing to do with me. So I took off, moved out here, got a job and gave birth to Milo. It’s been just me and him ever since. His dad knows nothing about him and never will. It’s me and Milo against the world.” She sat up a little straighter. As it got later in the day, the sun began to dip and the air turned ever so slightly colder. “How about you? What happened with you and Olivia’s mother?”

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. He actually shrugged. What kind of response was that? But Y/N said nothing as he began talking. “We were in love, moved too fast. Olivia was born exactly nine months into our relationship, when I was racing in Silverstone-“ A fact Daniel would never forgive himself for, that he missed the birth of his daughter. “-Things had been sour between us since before Olivia was born, but we tried to stay together for her. But we realised she would have been growing up in a shitty environment, so we went our separate ways.”

They continued talking through the night, until Olivia and Milo came running downstairs, now wide away. Milo climbed into his mother’s lap while Olivia grabbed a hold of her father’s arm. “Daddy, can we live here?” She asked, reaching towards Poppy the cat.

Daniel laughed. He went to stand up, moving Poppy from his lap, and scooped Olivia into his arms. “Come on, Badger. Let’s get you home to bed.”

She pouted, laying her head on his shoulder. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

For a minute Daniel looked like he was thinking about it. “We could,” he mused. “Or we could take Y/N and Milo to the park, play on the swings and get some ice cream? How does that sound?”

Both kids cheered.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @stay1strongbeautiful @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @stay1strongbeautiful @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the croissants

buttercup, chapter one

a/n: i was actually working on something else, but then one night i got the desperate need to rewatch daredevil yet again and then this just kinda accidentally tumbled out. oopsi i guess.

summary: he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, lowkey love at first sight (for reader)

word count: 2415

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“Do you wanna make the call or would you like me to do it?” 

Turning to look at the robust and inked visage of your uncle, your face crinkled up slightly as you asked in a hesitant tone, “…would you mind doing it? Please?”

“Sure, hon,” Howard nodded before blinking down at his phone and dialling the number, “what kind? Margherita?”

“Yeah, and with some arugula on top, please,” you spoke as you squeezed by a tower of messy moving boxes to enter the open kitchen of your new apartment, “thank you!”

Hearing his footsteps carry him deeper into the new home, his voice soon rumbled, muffled behind your bedroom door. Opening up the cardboard box that half blocked off your empty fridge, you dug through it till you found a glass, swiftly straightening back up and filling it up with water.

“How are you doing, cupcake?” you heard the soft voice of Walter, your uncle’s husband, as you turned off the tab, “you gonna be okay tonight? Because if you don’t want to be alone, we can stay.”

“No, it’s alright, I think I’m okay,” you took a tiny sip before placing the tall glass down on the counter, “you both gotta get up early tomorrow to open the bakery anyways.” 

“It’s never stopped us before. Do you remember when you were 11 and you watched that terrifying movie at some slumber party?” a smile twitched at the bald man’s lip from the memory, “I don’t think any of us slept for a whole week straight and the bakery still kept on running. If we could get through those sleepless nights of trying to convince you that our apartment wasn’t haunted, then we can get through this.” 

Stepping up closer to him, you caught his hand in yours and said, “I think I’m gonna be okay, but thank you, Walter, really, for everything, for this, for letting me move back home and letting me stay there for over a year.”

“Hey,” he squeezed your palm and ushered you to meet his gaze, “you do not need to thank us for that. It’s–…” he dropped the heavy comment he nearly uttered and instead let out a low sigh, “we love you. It was the very least we could do.”

“I love you too,” you heard your voice threaten a tremble of vulnerability, “so much.”

As the bedroom door then swung back open, out stepped Howard with an exhale, “alright, the pizza is on its way. You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a nod before walking them out. 

Peeking back at you over his shoulder as he swung his bright red scarf back on, Walter raised his brows tenderly, “promise that you’ll call us if anything happens, yeah?”

“Promise,” you breathed as you watched them creak open the front door and step out into the cold hallway, “love you, goodnight!”

“Goodnight, hon!” Howard waved over his shoulder at your visage in the doorway as the couple reached the stairs, “see you tomorrow! Try and get some rest, just head in whenever you get up.” 

“Okay,” a soft smile warmed your features. Lately, or the past year actually, they’d let you cut down on your work quite a bit so that your hours at the bakery were significantly less and the only days you were to get up before the sun did was on weekends.

“Bye!” they both called out loudly as they disappeared from your view before your own echo rang throughout the hallway.

“Bye!”

You didn’t manage to unpack much, only half of your books, before the buzzer rang obnoxiously, causing your feet to scramble to let the delivery guy up. 

Swiftly locating your backpack, you fished out your wallet just before a knock boomed at your door. 

“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the pimply-faced pizza guy spoke in a monotone voice as soon as you opened up. 

Catching the shadow of another figure ascend the staircase just before you began to dig through your wallet, his handsome and scruffy features were adorned with a pair of glasses that had a darkly crimson tint to them.

“Yep… uh… do you have change for a fifty?” 

“Nope,” he impatiently blinked before loudly popping his bright blue bubblegum.

“Oh, alright…” you felt your palms begin to sweat, “do you mind just waiting here for a second? I might have some more cash in a jacket… somewhere…”

But just before you could duck back inside, the suit-clad man who had stopped to unlock the door directly opposite yours, whipped his own wallet out and handed off the needed bucks, “here.”

Satisfied, the pizza guy accepted the change and shoved the wide box into your arms before dashing off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blinked over at your generous, new neighbour, “I can pay you back–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open. 

“Thanks,” you uttered, slightly windblown in your threshold as he disappeared into his apartment. 

Slipping into your sneakers and hastily fastening them with sloppy bows, you slugged your jacket on and grabbed your bag. As you exited your apartment, the neighbouring door opened just as you locked up your own. 

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked over your shoulder as you turned the key, “good morning!” 

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned to face him fully, shoving your bundle of keys into your pocket. Did he look even better than you remembered? Now no longer obscured by the terrible excuses this hallway had for lighting, the frosted window to your right illuminated every detail of him that you’d missed the first time around. 

“Morning,” he replied as he too locked his door behind him. 

Waiting a moment before you began to move your feet, you eyed his polished attire, “are you off to work?”

“Yep,” he nodded and fished out a folded-up cane from the inner pocket of his jacket, “you?”

“Yeah,” you sucked in a breath, “I’m Y/n, by the way, forgot to introduce myself the other night.”

“Matthew,” the bespectacled man extended his hand out for you to shake, “nice to meet you.” 

After ignoring the tingle his touch sent down your spine, the two of you began to descend the stairs.

“Thanks again for what you did with the–, oh! I should pay you back!” you reached into your deep coat pocket to locate your wallet, “I’m pretty sure I have–, how much was it?”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine, really,” he politely declined. 

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, your brows flew up, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged as he then held the front door open for you to get out onto the street first. 

“Thank you, Matthew,” you slipped out, waiting a moment before you began to head off, “have a good day!”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, flicking out his cane to its full length, just before you both began to walk in the exact same direction. 

“Oh, wait,” you slowed as a giggle bubbled out of your lungs, “you’re also heading this way?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Do you–, uh… I can wait for a little bit and let you get a head start if you–”

“Or you can just walk with me, if you’d like,” he suggested with a gentle smile that made your brain forget for just a split second where your destination was in the first place, “it’s fine with me, I don’t mind the company.”

“Okay,” you agreed in a quiet voice, returning to a brisk pace beside him. You didn’t take too many strides before a casual question nervously fell from your lips, “so, have you lived here long?” 

“In the apartment or Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Oh,” your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “both, I guess.”

“I’ve been in the apartment for a while,” he told you, “but lived here in the neighbourhood pretty much all my life.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, maybe glancing over at him a bit too much for it to be safe as you walked, “that’s nice.”

“You?”

“Uhm, grew up in Brooklyn, moved here to live with my uncles when I was nine, after my parents passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his low tone emanated an air of kinship. 

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid... anyways! Enough about me before I spill all of my childhood trauma to you,” you gracelessly changed the subject, “you are in a suit.”

“I–,” a faint laugh tumbled out past his lips before he joked, “I’d sure hope I am and didn’t accidentally change into something else.”

“No–, I mean, yes, obviously,” you felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, “that was just a very weird and backwards way of asking what you do for a living.”

“Ah,” his dark brows lifted in comprehension.

“Let me guess…” you fiddled with your fingers as you thought, “accountant? No… politician? No… funeral director?”

“Funeral di–,” Matthew chuckled, “no.”

“Do you work on Wall Street? Oh, please tell me you don’t because here I was just starting to think you were super cool.”

“No, I don’t work on Wall Street, but good to know that you think I’m cool,” he smirked, making you regret letting that information slip, “I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” your eyes grew, “seriously?”

“Yep.”

“That’s–... that’s–… waow…” you uttered, completely dumbfounded by the imposing nature of his profession, “well, now I don’t wanna tell you what I do, because it’s so not as impressive.”

“Oh, come on,” he tilted his head, “now you have to tell me.”

“…I’m a baker,” you finally said, “actually,” stopping your stride, you briefly brushed his arm for him to do the same, “this is where I work, right here.” 

“Really?” 

“It’s called Buttercup Bakery,” you glanced up at the familiar storefront, “have you ever been in there?”

“No, never,” his head shook lightly as a small smile warmed up his features, “funny, my office is just a few minutes further down the street, I must have walked passed this place a thousand times but I never noticed it before.”

“Well, you know of its existence now…” you turned your head to gaze at his striking visage once more as he raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “do you wanna get a coffee or something? My treat, as thanks for the pizza.”

“I’d love to,” he sucked in a breath, “but I really have to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded lightly, “well, thanks for the walk, have a great day. Hope you win a bunch of cases and–, uh… I don’t know, help make the judicial system better,” you couldn’t help but physically cringed at your clumsy words. 

But your new neighbour didn’t seem to mind as he just chuckled before wandering off, “bye, Y/n.”

The small bell above the glass door to the bakery chimed softly as you pushed it open. The interior was simple, both in colour and design, but had a rustic charm to it that gave it a sense of home. Behind the counter, and the mouth-watering baked goods lined up and displayed behind the clear glass, stood Walter. Facing the long shelves adorned with various loaves, he grabbed a crusty baguette and slid it into an appropriately long brown paper bag.

Handing it off to the little old lady on the other side, he said, “here you are. That’ll be four dollars,” before she placed the money on the counter beside his half-read newspaper and strolled passed you, out of the bakery, “have a good day!”

Leaning back down to return to his paper, Walter didn’t glance up at you as he greeted, “hi, honey! You wanna hear your horoscope for today?”

Tugging down the zipper of your jacket, you joked self-reflectively as you began to shed your layers, “does it say that I’ll miraculously turn into a charming and charismatic adult instead of whatever this is?”

“…uh… no,” he furrowed his brow and finally shot you a brief glance, “it says that you're energized and creative. This new moon initiates two weeks of growing work, health and strength. Put your heart into your actions. Practice makes perfect. Oh, and it also says right here that the spelt flour bin needs refilling and that there are about a billion cardamom buns that need to be shaped.”

“Oh, it says all of that, does it now?”

Letting a tense breath go, you apprehensively let your fist meet the dark door in three shy knocks. 

As soon as it swung open, the sentence, “do you like croissants?” sputtered out passed your lips. 

Head reeling back slightly at the unforeseen and sudden question, Matt blinked, “what?” 

“Do you like croissants?” you repeated as if it wasn’t strange to just blurt out something like that out of the blue. 

“Uh,” a smile then crept up on his lips, “hello to you too, Y/n.”

“I mean, I’ve personally never met anyone who doesn’t care for them, but I’m sure they exist.”

“Sure, I like croissants.”

“Oh, great, wonderful!”

Leaning against his door, his head tilted as you failed to continue, “…did you just have a burning desire to know that fact about me?”

“Right, no, I–, uhm, there were a bunch leftover today that we didn’t sell, so purely just to not let any go to waste, I thought you’d like some,” you held up the crinkly paper bag for him to hear. 

It had been a lie, but he didn’t have to know that you’d set some aside for him before they all sold out, just to have an excuse to talk to him again. 

“Oh, thank you,” he held out his open palms, “that’s so nice of you.” 

As you handed the bag off into his grasp, you felt as if your heart might beat straight out of your chest.  

“…alright, well…” you stumbled slightly, “I should probably head off to bed. Weekends are always the busiest, so my shifts are usually really long and I have to get up like super early, so... goodnight then!” 

And with that you awkwardly whirled around and scurried the short distance into your own apartment, only faintly catching his warm chuckle as you disappeared. 

“Night.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

[kamaluhkhan]

in my head, i play a supercut of us

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.

a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)

you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)

now — summer, age 18

driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming. 

it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.

your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too. 

it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s. 

you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open. 

"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!" 

"four summers can do that," you note. 

you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug. 

"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?" 

"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season." 

you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.

"possibly," laurel sighs. 

"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun." 

the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack. 

belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs. 

"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours." 

"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"

you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.

"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there." 

with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking. 

"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?" 

susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.

instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.

"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well? 

it was almost too much.

tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.

“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.

“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”

“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”

“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:

“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah. 

"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”

“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”

“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”

you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.

“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”

your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”

you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.

when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.

after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad. 

"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.

you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.

“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”

“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.” 

stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.

“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.

steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing. 

"yeah, well, i’m here.”

jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”

“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”

"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.

you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting. 

"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.

"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote." 

“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."

then — summer, age 11

you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.

it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good. 

"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat. 

"no way, man. it's freezing."

you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach. 

"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.

"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."

"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare. 

"i'm good," conrad snapped.

"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.

"i'm not scared —"

"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him. 

"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed. 

"yeah, but if connie —"

"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.

"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.

conrad smiled at you softly. "right." 

reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.

"ready?"

conrad nodded once. "ready." 

hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind. 

now 

jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize. 

"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet." 

jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly. 

"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"

the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer. 

"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive. 

you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay. 

"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.

"like i said: intense," you answer cooly. 

"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating. 

"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"

jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer. 

"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.

who the fuck is nicole? 

nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.

the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too. 

jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension. 

"never have i ever gotten a tattoo." 

you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink. 

"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes. 

"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage. 

the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other. 

"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.

you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach." 

the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.

then — summer, age 13

"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose. 

"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.

"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)

that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.

"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically. 

years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course). 

during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach. 

the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming. 

you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm. 

"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word). 

even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone. 

"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked. 

"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.

"i'll stay with you," conrad said.

belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together. 

"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?" 

conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"

you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs." 

conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!" 

you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.

"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."

"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it. 

"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."

you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.

"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."

"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.

"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.

"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."

being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats? 

conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks." 

you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was. 

"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.

"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."

you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other." 

you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.

now

you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.

the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.

you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.

conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink. 

“morning,” he whispers.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.

“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs. 

conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”

“i thought you loved football.”

“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”

you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports. 

“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.

conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well. 

“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.

“do what?”

conrad scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher angst #if you can't tell i am very very excited about this series!! #saf writes

[in-the-multiverse]

Also, secret life has the most references to past seasons especially to limited life. It’s almost like the clocker family never quite left, they still called each other mom, dad, son- Bdubs held on to the gripe about not being the favourite son. Cleo gave him the title, and they all laughed knowing that Scar would be upset. Almost every episode, they acknowledged the family in one way or another

The bad boys still helped each other out. The exchange of hearts and Joel calling it in the name of bad boys. He got tricked into completing Grian’s task in the beginning, but when the entire server was red later on- he didn’t hesitate to help Grian one last time. Even death didn’t separate them. Jimmy stuck around as a guardian angel, guiding one of his boys, laughing as they did ridiculous things- just like the old days. Every now and then, they remembered

The nosy neighbours didn’t forget each other. Although their interactions were rare, when they brought it up was special. Pearl tried apologizing to him (I can’t remember for what), Bigb says he doesn’t forgive her. Just like that, Pearl brings out her big sad wet eyes “but…nosy neighbours?” and Bigb immediately softens his voice and says he was joking. All is good between them. In the finale, Pearl sees him peeking out behind a wall. A fond, familiar sight. “Always watching?” Bigb shifts away and says it back “Always watching” they go their separate ways

I’m not sure if there were references to mean gills or team ties, but those other teams stood out strongly. And there were plenty more to double life, last life, 3rd life. It’s sorta strange, but in a welcoming way, to see more and more callbacks to previous teams. In a season where a huge part of the game mechanic is keeping a secret, in a series where past alliances are usually brushed aside, people leaned over to each other and went “hey, remember when…”

#secret life smp #traffic series #slsmp #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #Grian #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #bigb #pearlescentmoon #life series #limited life #trafficblr

[pixiesfz]

inspired by canada's new series

camera shot j.f x reader

plot: you are hired to help film the canadian womens soccer teams documentary throughout the gold cup and end up socialising with the players

warnings: none

“Oh c’mon Joan I’ve been looking for a promotion for weeks and I know my way around San Diego, my auntie took me everywhere and I-“

Your boss put her hand over your mouth “Shush child” she said, her British accent thick “If you had let me finish my sentence I was going to tell you that you’re coming with me to film a short documentary”

Your eyes lit up “Really? Like you’re not fucking with me?” you ask with a smile and your boss nodded with a smile “We know you’ve been stepping up and you deserve it”

You smiled brightly “Thank you so much!”.

“Meet me at five in the morning for the plane ride” She called out as you started walking away and you shot her a thumbs-up.

When you got home to your apartment in Portland, where you had recently moved with your boss who got a better offer and took you with her you started packing, asking your neighbour to look after your cat muffin.

You only knew little about your neighbour, you knew she played soccer professionally and you knew she was Canadian, she’d had some more friends over recently, and now you were scared to open the door and have someone else open it.

Luckily Christine opened it with a smile “Hey y/n” she smiled before seeing the fluffy cat in your “and muffin”.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I just got this documentary series for one of the teams in the ‘gold cup’ thing and I need someone to look after my cat” You smiled shyly, holding muffin up like he was a prize.

“He only scratches when you don’t give him belly scratches when he wants it” you instructed and the older woman just nodded, grabbing the cat out of your hands “You’re filming Canada by the way,” she told you and you smiled “are they all nice?” you asked and she nodded “extremely, way more than me,” she said as she started playing with your cat's ears.

“Yes, because you’re so scary”

Christine gave you a deadpan stare before dropping the cat onto her floor which he then immediately ran onto her couch and made himself comfortable.

“I can give you a rundown on everything if you’d like,” Christine said as she saw your shaky hands, you were very nervous and you nodded “Yes please, I just need to pack,” you told her “You can tell me whilst I do that,” you told her before running back to your apartment, Christine walking behind you before closing the door on Muffin who had now fallen asleep on her couch.

“Okay so I retired from my national career last year so I’m not there”

“oldie” you teased and the woman threw a Canadian scarf at you, which she had grabbed on her way out “I’m not old, and that is if you need to go to a game” You folded it into your suitcase “Thanks”

She explained to you the new girls and the younger ones before she went in depth about some of the others “And then there’s Jessie, she’s the new captain, I like to call her a mini-me” You smiled “Well that’s cute”

“She hates it though, so don’t call her that”

“I hardly think I’ll have a conversation with her or any of them,” you said with a shake of the head “They’re Canadians, they love to talk also Jessie isn’t the biggest fan of social media so maybe keep that in mind when she found out about the series she called in a nervous mess,” Christine said and you took a mental note to remember it “she is the captain though so that might be hard” you mumbled.

“You’re talented I think you can do it,” Christine told you before looking at her phone “It’s twelve, go to bed, where’s muffins food?”

“Next to the potted plant in the front” you sighed before zipping up your case.

Christine got up from her seat and rubbed her hands on her lap “Just look after Fleming for me, she can get in her head sometimes” she said softly and you nodded “I can do that”.

Christine nodded before leaving the room, you heard her pick up the food before she left.

The next twenty-four hours were a bit of a blur for you, you boarded the plane with Joan and two other camera guys and flew to San Diego where the Gold Cup was being held, and arrived at your hotel where Joan let you all take a long nap before you were needed in the meeting room.

You roll out of bed, putting a pair of jeans and a sweater on before walking down with your camera.

“You must be one of the camera people?” a voice popped up and you turned to a blonde woman “Yeah I’m y/n” you introduced yourself and the Canadian nodded “Chloe, I can walk with you to the meeting room, you look a little lost”

You gratefully nodded and followed behind the girl who you learnt played for Arsenal which Christine had told you, but you didn’t want the players knowing their ex-captain gave you a lesson about all of them.

When the two of you walked in, you felt people staring at you before Chloe smiled “this is y/n one of the filmers?” she asked and you nodded “Pretty much”

Some of the girls who arrived early started asking you questions right away.

‘Where are you from?’

‘Do you support a team?’

‘I like your sweater’

“Guy’s leave her be for a second she just got here”

A voice popped up and you looked across to a girl who had brown short hair, a little bit shrivelled up and her hands were in her pockets. She must’ve just woken up from a nap.

But you recognised her from Christine’s ‘lesson’

You smiled shyly at her before the Canadians gave you all sympathetic looks “It’s okay umm to answer your questions Uhm unfortunately I’m not that into sports, I’m from Los Angeles and thankyou I like this sweater too” You smiled and some of the girls laughed, including Jessie who still seemed tired, or maybe nervous.

You excused yourself to set up your camera and started to film once the meeting began, there were little introductions and you smiled and waved when their coach announced your name, catching eye contact with Jessie, both of you quickly looking away.

Their coach announced Jessie as the captain as you did your job, zooming up to the girl who glanced at you through the corner of her eye before being congratulated by friends.

Once the meeting finished you started to pack up your camera as Joan told you to interview some of the girls as she saw you talking to some of them.

When she left you saw another figure approaching you “Hi” a Canadian voice popped up and you whipped your head around to see Jessie “hi” you smiled and she looked down at your feet “Do you live in Portland by any chance?” she asked and you quickly zipped up your bag.

You didn’t want them to know you were friends with Christine, you felt like it would effect your job as their interviewer.

“Uhm yeah, why?” you asked and Jessie blushed “Oh I just- I just thought I had seen you before that’s all” she said, one hand brushing her hair back behind her ear.

“I’m guessing you live in Portland then?” you ask, standing up and she nods “Only recently though, I used to live in London before” You smiled “I have friends from college who live there, they say it’s nice but just really cold” Jessie nodded with a smirk “They are not wrong trust me”.

You just laughed and pulled your bag across your shoulder and Jessie looked to the door “I can walk you back to the room, It’s a bit hard to navigate” she offered

You thought back to when her teammate had found you at a loss because of that you had remembered how to get up but for some reason, you didn’t want to say no to the girl in front of you.

“Sure”

Jessie smiled before setting off out of the room, you beside her.

“What room are you?” she asked “307” you replied and she smiled “I’m 310” she revealed and you laughed “maybe we’ll run into each other more, “I really want to go to the hotel pool and spa but there's no free time during the day, the schedule is packed”

“Late night swim then?” Jessie asked and you nodded “maybe”.

You didn’t realise you had made it to your room before Jessie stopped walking “Well have a good night and maybe don’t try to wake me when you go the the pool” she teased and you rolled your eyes

“Maybe another night, I am dying for some sleep,” you said and the girl laughed as she reached her door.

“Bye Y/n’

‘Bye Jessie”

The first couple of days in camp were full of training for the Canadian team, sometimes you would pull some of the girls out for one-on-one questions which they always smiled and answered with full honesty.

Sabrina and you had to take a break from how much she made you laugh with silly comments.

After the first game, Canada came on top and you tried hard not to scream out in cheers as you were filming but once you stopped you greeted the girls with hugs. Squeezing Jessie a bit harder and congratulated her first game as the official captain.

“It’s um- It’s-“ she stuttered before shaking off her nerves “Thanks” she smiled and you laughed “Nasty black eye” You pointed at her eye which was red and blotchy, already bruising in some parts, Jessie lifted her fingertips up and lightly pressures the skin surrounding her eyes “Hopefully it will make me look badass” she laughed and you tilted your head to get a good look at it.

“Hopefully it’s not too bad for a coffee date tomorrow”

Jessie’s face turned red “What?” she asked and you blushed as well but laughed “Your interview at the café” you explained and Jessie looked at her feet “Oh yeah- I- I forgot” she admitted running her hand through her hair.

“I’ll leave you guys to it then, see you all at the hotel” you yelled out to the team before running after Joan who was already out of the arena.

Once you were sitting in the car your phone buzzed “Is that from Jessie?” Joan asked and you swivelled your head “Umm what no!” you said quickly, and your boss laughed “I’ve seen you two mingling”

“Please never say that word again”.

In the morning you were excited to get out of bed, even if the sun was still rising and it was weird because you were not a morning person.

Then you thought about your boss's comment.

Have you started to have a thing for the Canadian captain?

You hesitantly knocked on the girl's door which she quickly opened right after “Hey” she smiled and you waved your camera back at her “Hey Fleming” Smiling Jessie stepped out and closed her door “What café are we going to?” she asked “I chose a good one don’t worry”

You both tried to ignore stares from the public eye once you started setting up your camera and Jessie pretended to be preoccupied by her phone.

“all done” you smiled sweetly at Jessie “Can I press record?” she asked, confused by the video camera on the tripod, you found it adorable “Absolutely,” you said and the girl dived in.

“What does this button do?” she asked, and you peered your head over her shoulder, not realising that the impact made the girl red “That switches the brightness” you explained, brushing your fingertips to show her.

“I think if I wasn’t always so busy with soccer, I’d be taking pictures and videos of beautiful things all the tim,e” she told you and you nodded “It’s my favourite thing to do” you told her and she smiled, finally finding the record button.

“Can I say action?” she cheekily asked, and you nodded, laughing “if you really want to”

“Action!”

Jessie walked away from the camera, and you took over the camera as she walked over to the barista “hi” her cheery Canadian voice sounded, and she ordered her chair but turned back to you “do you want anything?” she asked and you popped your head up

“You don’t have to”

“I want to.”

You went silent before you remembered you hadn’t drunk or eaten anything yet “Just a hot chocolate please”

The barista smiled between your interactions as Jessie added a hot chocolate to her meal.

You both moved outside to start your interview, you smiled as Jessie talked about her passion, catching her eye a couple of times which made you both blush.

When your drinks came out you thanked the waitress who smiled at you both before telling Jessie she supported Chelsea but quickly came back with “we’ll miss you on the pitch”.

You laughed as Jessie got embarrassed, happy to catch It on film.

“That was sweet,” you told her and she laughed “Some Chelsea fans aren’t as sweet,” she told you and you hummed “I can imagine, as I’ve heard it’s a very hard on club”

You both went back to the interview before finishing up “Can you see my black eye?” she asked and you shook your head “Only when you looked straight at the camera but you hardly did that”

“I’m not the biggest fan of being filmed or doing social media” she admitted “I can kind of tell” You laughed and Jessie picked up your camera “Can I try and film?”

“film what?” you ask “Beautiful things” She shrugged “Like you said” she added and you felt a weird tingly feeling in your stomach.

You weren’t sure if it was from her words or the way her arms flexed when she picked the camera up and turned it towards you.

Jessie seemed to make it evident that she was filming you, making you blush “I see the appeal” she hummed before passing it back to you.

“Have you gone to the hotel spa yet?” Jessie asked and you nodded “I swam around the night after the game but I’m planning on going again” You responded, “Maybe this time I’ll join you?” Jessie asks hesitantly.

You smiled at her question “I would like that Jess” you told her, and she turned to you, slightly shocked “Yeah?” she asked and you nodded “yeah it be nice to have some company”.

Throughout the day you couldn’t stop smiling, thinking of Jessie and your conversation in the coffee shop but you tried to dial it down, filming the girls training as if nothing happened.

You will admit you found yourself filming Jessie more than the others at certain times.

You joined the team huddle next to Sabrine and Janine, Sabrine whispering ‘action’ in your ear, her arm around your waist making you laugh, catching Jessie’s attention as her eyes glared daggers at her Canadian teammate, which did not go unnoticed by Janine who pointed her brows at her friend.

To which Jessie ignored.  

When the small meeting ended between the group you filmed everyone leaving, getting ready for the game against the USA.

Jessie was watching as you panned the camera around, not seeing her best friend behind her “Jessie” Janine said and the girl shrieked, the sound going from nowhere “Where did you come from?” the ex-Chelsea player said, her voice slightly raised from panic.

“Well you would’ve noticed if you weren’t too busy ogling the camera girl,” the blonde girl said, her eyebrows raised “Her name is y/n,” Jessie said with her eyes looking to the floor “Right, y/n” Janine nodded.

Janine looked back over to you as you were now packing up, cocking her head as she took a good look at you “She’s familiar” she hummed as Jessie span her face around “Stop looking at her, or else she’ll know we’re talking about her”

“Oh calm down Jess, she’s probably into you too” Janine brushed her friend off who was now blushing “I’m not-“ she tried to lie but her friend shot her a look “Okay I’m into her”.

Janine gasped “I know how I know her now!” Jessie bulged her eyes, slapping her friend “Shut up” she said before running away into the rooms, blushing as you looked over, waving to Janine who held a smile and ran up to you.

“You’re Christine's neighbor!” she said loudly, proud of herself as you stuttered “Y-yeah I am” you smiled and Janine stepped back “Oh did you not want people to know” she cringed and you shook your head “No it’s fine I think, I just didn’t want to bring it up or brag about it” you explained and the girl nodded and you continued, finding a flow in the conversation “I tried to be very professional coming into this and not really talk so I didn’t think people needed to know but you guys are all nice” you shrugged and Janine nodded “I just recognised you, I’ve been to Christine’s a lot”

You nodded “Yeah she’s looking after my cat right now” you laughed and she joined you, silently judging your character for her good friend.

“I need to see a picture”.

The weather was horrendous for the American game, limiting your access to filming in certain area but you were still drenched under your big raincoat that covered you. Filming as all the women practically swam around the ground.

Some of them even apologized as when they kicked near you, a gush of water fell on you from the impact.

You just responded with a smile and thumbs up. Hoping your camera won’t break soon.

You got up for penalties, finally going inside with your camera as you were called in “They lost?”

You asked as Joan walked in, helping you check the camera’s and nodded “I would allow you to check on Jessie but the two guys I had come with us have disappeared somewhere so you’re all I got right now” she sighed, the feeling of defeat on everyone’s shoulders.

“So we go home tomorrow?” you ask and the woman nodded

“We go home tomorrow”.

When you were sat in your room you watched the digital clock as it hit midnight, but you weren’t tired, you weren’t tired at all.

So you got up, put on your triangle bikini and the hotels dressing gown, grabbed a towel and walked out. You thought about knocking on Jessie’s door but elected not to thinking she needed her time.

She was probably asleep anyway.

You sat in the spa, your head laid back on your shoulders before you heard the door open, revealing a tired Jessie Fleming.

“I can leave if you want” you said, not sure if the girl wanted alone time but she shook her head “I was actually hoping you would be here” she gave you a half smile and you smiled back before she jumped into the spa with you.

There was a comfortable silence before you looked at Jessie “You okay?” you asked and the girl shrugged “This was just my first tournament as captain” she explained “can’t help but feel I let them down”

You nodded “You didn’t let anyone down Jess”.

The girl nodded, smiling at the nickname. “Can we talk about something other than football?” she asked and you smiled “sure, do you have a big family?”

The both of you talked, bringing smiles on each other’s faces, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting next to each other both of your thighs touching.

“I can’t believe you took dance classes in college” you laughed, looking at the girl “I had moves” she defended herself but you just gave her a look, your eyes quickly looking at her lips as you saw she did the same.

The lights had been off the entire time as it was night but as you both started leaning into each other the lights turned on, both pulling away from the brightness as a worker walked in, oblivious to the two of you.

“What’s the time?” You asked, hiding your eyes “Five in the morning!” the worker yelled out to you both as your eyes popped “I’m on a plane in two hours!”

Jessie watched as you panicked, quickly jumping out of the spa and grabbing two towels for you both “here” she threw it to you and you wrapped yourself before quickly turning to the girl “I’m sorry”

And you left.

Jessie was sitting in Christines kitchen playing with a bowl of cereal after her flight.

“So you met a girl, flirted with her and didn’t kiss her” Christine listed as Jessie groaned “well technically I tried but we were interrupted” she said and Janine laughed “you shoul’ve seen it she was so into her it was insane”

“It wasn’t that obvious”

“We had a bet going on, her workmates were in on it!”

Christine furrowed her brows …workmates?

“What was her name?” Christine asked but her doorbell rang, Christine going up to answer as she knew someone was coming “wait my neighbours getting her cat”

“I was wondering where this cutie came from” Janine cooed, scratching the cats head.

You were at the end of the door waiting for Christine to open the door, if there was anything that could make you feel any better right now was your cat.

“Hey y/n!” Christine cheered opening the door before two heads peeked through

“Y/n?”

“Jessie?”

“Oh I forgot to mention she was Christines neighbour”

And that’s how you met your future wife.

#woso #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso community #jessie fleming #jflem #baby with jessie #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #canada women #sam kerr #janine beckie

[st-kitten]

707

next chapter →

WARNINGS: (m.) masturbation, nicknames (baby, babygirl, good girl, princess, pretty girl) little megumi being painstakingly adorable

life as a single father trying to make ends meet was hard for toji fushiguro. his job as a security guard for some company didn't pay much. whatever he earned went into bills, rent, and groceries, leaving next to nothing for him to save or even spend. how he wished there was a simpler way to earn. he'd be exhausted by the time he came home and crashed, only to be woken up by megumi. as much as he loved the kid, getting him ready for school and out the door was harder than an mma fight.

all the babysitters he hired were useless. most of them agreed just to get into his pants so, when they found out that they were hired 'because' he couldn't be home, they left in disappointment.

toji never relied on his neighbours either. partially because they were too old or kids themselves, with parents who also hired babysitters. the closest anyone ever came to being a candidate was his next door neighbour, you.

but he vowed to never approach you. even if it meant leaving megumi to cry midday, over a glass of spilled milk. why?

[flashback]

toji had just helped megumi catch the school bus. waving him goodbye, he went back inside the building. the days got colder each passing day, which meant that he was going to have to repair the broken heater and buy some warm clothes. how ever was he going to afford it in time?

collecting the mail, he stood in the temporary warmth of the elevator, yawning. he really wanted to go back to sleep. his work began at 10 am, so he still had two hours, maybe he could take a nap. or fix that heater himself.

he stood in front of his apartment, looking through his pockets for the keys when he heard muffled noises from the apartment next door. he had only seen you once, when he accidentally took your mail instead of his and had to give it back to you. you always seemed distant and cold, so hearing you softly, yet loudly screaming a series of "yes! yes! keep doing that!" at 8 am made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

he let it slide. people had lives.

but you didn't stop there. when toji came back from his work at night, holding a bag of vegetables, he heard you again.

"oh god! yes!"

and two days later when toji brought megumi home early as he got sick in school, "just like that, baby!" he had to keep babbling random trivia to his son so that he wouldn't hear you. how many times is she going to do this?

when it was toji's day off, and he was taking a nap on the couch, he heard you moaning again. it wasn't that loud, but the single wall between your apartment and his did a terrible job at muffling it. toji was glad that megumi was at school.

[back in present time]

months had passed by and he was still not used to hearing you. he'd forgotten what you looked like, so he didn't recognise you whenever you passed by him or even when you were in the elevator with him. all he knew was that he hated you for being so disturbing.

the day he was dreading finally came when he wanted someone to look after megumi for the night as he had to cover someone's shift, and not a single person was available. with an ale tankard of reluctance, he rang the doorbell, truly expecting you to open it naked, some angry fucker peeking from behind 'cause he didn't get to finish...

so when you opened the door looking the complete opposite; wearing loose sweatpants, a barbie hoodie, house slippers and your hair tied in a messy bun, half a banana dangling in your mouth... toji held back a sigh of relief.

"hey... i'm toji, i live next door," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"i mow woo yooah," you said, chewing the banana quickly, and swallowed it.

"right... listen, i gotta cover an extra shift and i need someone to look after this brat for the night."

you held back a laugh upon hearing him refer to his son like that. you'd only seen megumi from a distance. but, you had no reason to refuse.

"sure! i'd be happy to!"

toji was still unsure about this, but there was no backing out now.

"cool. i'll send him in twenty minutes." toji vanished before you could say anything else. you chuckled to yourself. for a man of his size and built, he sure was a chicken when it came to communication.

you cleaned your living room before he could come back. your place was kid-friendly enough. you made sure you prep the kitchen in case he hadn't had dinner.

your doorbell rang and you scurried to open it.

"here's a list of things you'll have to do... he's... a little tough. but he's a good kid."

you took the list and gave it a brief look and nodded.

"alright, megs, you're gonna be staying with this lady today. i'll be back soo-"

megumi began tugging his father's pants grumpily, upset at his words.

"don't be like that, kid..." toji sighed. he didn't like to exhibit his personal life in front of others.

"please? i'll get you ice cream."

megumi's ears perked upon hearing ice cream. "chocolate?" he cooed.

"yes. now go inside."

clutching a tattered dog plushie (with two heads for some reason), he stepped inside your apartment, looking down.

toji knelt down to meet his eyes. straightening megumi's sweater, he said, "i'll be back tomorrow morning. behave, okay?" megumi nodded, almost on the verge of crying. you held back the 'awwws'.

"alright... i'm trusting you. don't f- mess it up," said toji, looking at you with a glare.

"i won't..." you just smiled solemnly. you'd say the same if you were in his position.

toji wanted to tell you to not have sex for that one night, but he chose not to add fuel to the fire. who was he to tell you not to fuck? if anything, he was mildly jealous that you got to enjoy it so much.

toji left and you turned back to megumi, who was standing in your living room, anxious to move a muscle.

you sighed. "hello, megumi. i'm y/n." you crouched down and held out your hand to him. he hesitated before holding three of your fingers and shaking them. you smiled.

"sorry about this... you don't know me at all and now you're stuck with me. must be weird."

megumi stayed silent. you got up and went to the kitchen, which was open and visible from your living room easily. you opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk that you'd gotten free with something.

"would you like some?" you shook the carton. megumi loved chocolate in any form. not wanting to sound too excited or desperate, he gave a curt nod. you poured him a cup of milk and handed it to him.

"you can sit down wherever you want."

megumi scanned the room and spotted a bean bag. he'd never seen one. he looked at you and then back at it.

"you wanna sit there? sure!" you placed a hand on his head and led him to the corner. you held his cup for him while he tried to sit. he immediately sank into the bean bag, hearing the sound of tiny malleable balls that shifted as he sat down. megumi's eyes widened as he tried not to bolt out of there. when he was settled down, he found it pretty comfortable. he liked how he could stretch his legs and sit at the same time.

"comfy, right?" you said, handing him his cup of chocolate milk. the way he held it with both hands made you want to scream in a pillow. no way that asscrack of a man was his father.

you went over the list once more. it was simple. bedtime was 9 PM, no allergies, likes sweet food, but easily gets a sugar rush, etc. you laughed at the numerous spelling mistakes in it.

"so, what do you like to do?" you asked, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

megumi didn't like talking to babysitters. mostly because they never paid attention to him. he didn't like how they bossed him around. or how they got mad when he asked them if they could play with him. so he would stay silent. nobody ever asked him what he liked to do, so your question caught him by surprise.

he thought about it. what did he like to do?

"paint..."

"you paint?" you asked. you always liked the idea of kids drawing and painting.

megumi nodded. he was obsessed with a box of paints his father had bought him ages ago. the paints were long dried and over. but he still dipped his brush into them, watering them and painting with whatever colour came out of it.

you didn't have paints or brushes that he could use... but an idea struck you and you wondered whether he'd like it.

"wanna paint my room?" you suddenly said.

megumi's eyes lit up with curiosity. won't your walls get damaged? what if he spilled paint on the floor? or on you?

"the walls in my room are sad and empty. i have some paint cans that the painters forgot about when i was renovating. there are some colours still left. what do you say?"

megumi nodded. you got up and went into your room, searching for a shirt you give him as overalls. you pulled out the paint cans from under your bed. you took an old shirt of yours and brought it to him in the living room.

megumi had finished drinking his milk, so he thought he'd keep the cup back. hearing you call his name startled him and he dropped the cup, watching it shatter into pieces. he tensed up and felt his eyes water. you were going to scold him, punish him, maybe even hit him. he deserved it. he broke your cup.

"oh my, are you okay?" you rushed to his side, crouching and checking him for wounds.

"sorry... sorr-" megumi tried his best not to cry. he was expecting an earful at any moment now.

"why?" it was all you asked.

megumi looked at you in shock.

"cup..."

you chuckled sympathetically. "so? cups break all the time."

"i break cup..."

you stood up, unsure of how to convince him that he did nothing wrong.

"okay... you broke the cup." there it was. you were angry. megumi was going to get scolded.

instead, he watched you pick another cup from the shelf. you took the cup, and angling it far from megumi, you threw it.

"and i broke a cup too. guess we're both clumsy..." you shrugged and picked up the pieces, swiping the rest with a broom and tossing them in the garbage.

megumi didn't know what to say. had he really done nothing wrong? it was just a cup... yeah, just a cup.

"come, let's paint my room," you held out your hand to him. slowly, he grabbed it, walking behind you towards your room. your hands were soft and warm. and you didn't pull him or drag him. instead you were walking slower just for him. why were you so kind?

you brought him to your room and asked him to help you spread newspapers on the floor. then you handed him a shirt, helping him put it on since it was huge for him. he looked like a penguin.

"megumi... please, i'll give you more chocolate milk, but can i please take your picture? you're too cute," you asked, clutching your heart.

megumi blushed and nodded, looking away.

you clicked at least twenty pictures of him in your shirt, holding a thick paintbrush, standing on newspaper barefoot. you made a mental note to send these to toji.

"alright, pick your colours."

megumi carefully scanned each colour. then he looked at you. he didn't want to mess up this opportunity. it wasn't every day that he got to paint a wall instead of paper. he wanted to make sure you'd like it.

you seemed the type of person who would appear stern, but on the inside, you were really soft and caring. like a marshmallow. he wanted the room to suit you. being the observant kid, he looked around the room and learned that you liked necklaces, most of which looked like fancy saturns (iykyk). you also liked flowers as there were vases on your nightstand, windowsill and some were on your bookshelves. you also had a lot of books. what really caught megumi's attention was that you had three guitars hung on the wall. your room was totally your personality. he knew what he wanted to paint.

megumi pointed to a few colours and you handed him a few brushes of different sizes. he dipped one in red paint and began painting a few strokes on the wall (only after glancing back at you a hundred times in case you changed your mind). you sat on the bed, watching him focus. he was definitely smarter than kids his age. you admired him.

after a while, you left the room, telling him that you were going to make dinner. curry rice got an approval from him, so you occupied yourself in the kitchen, humming to yourself. you wondered what all he had painted in your absence. you didn't really care about the wall; you only hoped he'd feel safe enough to be a child.

you finished cooking and plated the food, setting on the kitchen island you used as a dining table. you pulled a chair and stacked some couch pillows on it, increasing the height of the seat. you called to megumi, but he didn't answer.

you stepped into the room to call him for dinner again, but no words came from your mouth as you stared at your wall, awestruck.

megumi had painted so many flowers and vines that ran across your wall in different colours. he'd even mixed a few colours and created new ones. he drew the saturn orbs matching your jewellery in the center of some flowers. though he could only paint a part of it and couldn't reach higher, the wall looked full of life.

"megumi..."

he looked at you, anxious to hear what you had to say.

you stood behind him, admiring the wall.

"you made my wall magical. this is so beautiful!"

megumi had a tiny smile on his face.

"you're an artist, gumi" you said, ruffling his hair, and he blushed at the nickname you gave him. nobody ever gave him a nickname apart from his father. people would often forget his name.

he felt his chest swell with pride and happiness. he did a good job.

"let's put fairy lights on the wall!" you chirped and he nodded.

you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket. you sat him down on the high chair and you both sat down for dinner. megumi liked the food. but he truly loved how you let him be himself without bossing him around. it finally dawned on him that he had broken your cup, painted your wall, and was eating your food and you had absolutely no problem with it. he felt himself breathe freely.

after dinner, he helped you clean the room and stick fairy lights all across your room. you went overboard with it, but when you switched them on and lay on the bed watching them twinkle, it felt worth it.

"we did a good job, today." you gave him a high five.

megumi yawned and you took it as a sign to prep him for bed. toji forgot to give you his toothbrush, so you tore him a new one. you wouldn't dare let a child sleep in the living room, so you tucked him in your bed. you were so glad you bought that expensive comforter because seeing megumi snuggle into it turned your eyes into beating hearts.

upon his request, you tucked in his ominous dog plushie with him and bid him goodnight. megumi fell asleep easily, snoring softly. you made rounds to the room to check on him and felt your heart melt every time. he was definitely an active sleeper. his positions would get bizarre every time and you'd pull the comforter on him properly each time.

you finally slept on your couch around midnight.

toji didn't sleep a wink. the world's most boring job had him awake all night, opening gates for rich snobs who partied and returned to the semi-residential building at odd hours.

the only thing on his mind was megumi. he prayed that you weren't fucking someone with him in the house. he wondered if he'd eaten. he wondered if he was asleep right now. he hoped you gave him his demon dog to sleep with.

when dawn broke, he was out of there. he drove his dying truck straight to the parking and dashed out of the car. he decided to grab his and your mail, just so he'd have an extra excuse to knock on your door.

he didn't bother asking you for a key. he just yanked open the letterbox and it easily came into his hand. he grabbed whatever was in it.

"did you hear apartment 707? so loud.... that too in the morning"

"how could i not? but, im not surprised..."

toji heard two ladies gossip, waiting for the elevator. 707... his apartment was 706, so it had to be you. he was going to murder you.

he sped in and out of the elevator, rushing to your place. expecting to hear the sound of sex, he stopped in his tracks... you were not having sex? your door was conveniently ajar and toji spotted a few empty cans of paint outside.

he opened the door, peeking in, only to see... his adorable five year old son, jumping around and dancing with you to a christmas song, decorating a large tree in your living room. (christmas tree farm by the one and only... blondie)

if toji could explain how much he wanted to giggle at the sight, he would. but he only watched the two of you, leaning against the doorframe, hands folded, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"where every wish comes true!!!" you sang, hanging the ornaments miscellaneously. megumi poked your leg and you picked him up, helping him tie a bell around a branch.

you swayed and danced to the beat with megumi on your shoulders, who laughed loudly.

toji felt his heart melt upon hearing his son laugh. he hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

he looked around and spotted a plate of half-eaten pancakes and glasses of milk. did you drink milk with him? he held back a laugh.

as you turned around, you spotted toji and nearly threw yourself in the tree.

"dad!" megumi chirped, happy to see his father. toji took it as an invitation to come inside. seeing megumi almost as tall as him, he chuckled and looked him in the eye.

"here's your ice cream, stinky," he said, holding a bag full of ice cream cups.

megumi giggled.

toji smiled widely and you sobbed at how cute the kid was. you placed him down and he ran to his father, clinging to his knee. you took the ice cream bag from toji and placed it on the kitchen counter taking the contents out.

[next song: under the tree by sam palladio]

you handed megumi a cup of chocolate ice cream and the uselessly small wooden spoon that came with it.

"which one do you want?" you asked toji who had yawned at least a dozen times by now.

"anything is fine."

you tossed him the pinkest strawberry ice cream cup. he rolled his eyes, but began eating it anyway. you sat next to him on the couch. megumi insisted on sitting under the tree, on the tree-skirt, looking up at the lights and the ornaments from below.

"oh! look!" you said, pulling your phone out to show toji pictures of little megumi in an oversized shirt holding a paintbrush.

"what's this?" toji asked. though his kid looked cute, he still didn't know what happened when he was away.

"yeah, he painted my wall," you replied.

"HE WHAT?" toji asked, surprised. megumi never misbehaved. but i guess he finally snapped.

"yeah! it's so beautiful, i can't stop staring at it," you began mumbling.

this kid ruined your walls and you're happy about it? he thought you'd scold him.

"come, i'll show you," you signalled him to follow you and toji did, worried about the mess his son had made.

he also did not want to see your room, given that he'd heard you have sex plenty of times for it to etch in his mind like a song that just doesn't fucking leave.

he was not expecting for your room to be so... pleasant and unsuspecting. you had a queen-sized bed with fluffy pillows, plants in the room, some equipment on the desk. hell, instead of sex, it smelled like coconut.

you showed him the art megumi had blessed your wall with.

"he's great at painting!"

toji's eyes widened at the intricate designs on the wall. had megumi really painted this? was he this good at it?

"it's... good..." toji didn't know what to say. he felt really sad that his son was capable of something so great and yet toji couldn't do more for him.

you smiled, somehow understanding what he was feeling. it was the same thing you felt about yourself when you realised your love for music.

toji asked you to send him the pictures and you complied. he looked around your room in silence, not knowing what to do. but he decided to address the former elephant in the room.

"can i ask you something?"

"sure," you said, looking down at your phone.

"i don't have the right to pry in your personal life, but... next time you have someone over, keep it down? i don't want megumi to hear... that..."

"huh?"

"you know... what you and your boyfriend do..."

"i don't have one?"

"then whoever you bring home to fuck... just please, keep the volume low," said toji impatiently.

"i didn't bring any... oh, you heard that!" you said as it dawned on you.

"yeah, whatever that is..." toji wanted to hide his face. it felt like giving a child 'the talk'. and you weren't that old too...

"toji..." you called, holding back your laugh. he wondered what was so funny.

"i'm not having sex in here. what you've been hearing..." you almost held it back... "was me recording for quinn."

"huh?"

you sighed as you explained, "it's an app for people who like listening to spicy stories... i'm one of their narrators... i try to pick times when people are busy or not here... but oh my god, i'm so sorry you had to hear that..." you said with a laugh, grabbing his arm apologetically.

toji digested every word you said.

"why on earth would you do that?"

"it pays really well, you know..." you shrugged.

now you had toji's attention. "you get paid for speaking dirty?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"and narrating, reading lines, moaning, whimpering, shouting... the works."

"that's an odd job..." he commented. it truly was. he had no idea things like these existed.

"i'm a singer by profession, so this is just a side hustle. my room is soundproof so i can't hear outside noises, but sadly..."

"you're not ashamed?"

"why would i be? it's great that people like it. you should try listening to some."

"please, no," toji held his palm out to her. he heard you chuckle. "aren't you worried that people might find out about you?"

"of course i don't use my real name."

toji shook his head in disbelief.

"i know you're ancient, but try it someday. who knows, you might end up liking it," you said, showing him the app on your phone.

toji stared at you with a blank face. he wasn't that behind the times, was he? he snuck a glance at your screen, his eyes falling on your username in a corner. embarrassed, he swatted your hand away and you chucked.

"anyway, thanks for looking after my kid." toji got up and left your room as you trotted behind him.

"anytime!"

toji left with megumi, after thanking you once more and making his kid to the same. megumi had definitely enjoyed he spent with you. he wished he could do it again.

a few days passed by and megumi started to become more interactive with you, waving at you, telling about his day when you rode the elevator together, giving you some small sketches he made after you gave him a sketchbook and some colour pencils.

toji still hadn't warmed up to you, but he wasn't as dismissive as he used to be. in fact, he had gotten slightly curious about you. you lived a quiet life, or so it seemed on the outside. but he knew what you did and how unbothered you were about it.

why would people pay to listen to strangers moaning? it seemed bizarre to him. he tried to ignore it.

he was stuck on another night shift, leaving megumi with you. he was glad that his son didn't mind you. and you'd proven to be a capable babysitter. yet, all he wanted was to be near his son. home. the night couldn't get over any sooner.

toji sat in the booth provided to him, watching the streets. nights when people came and went by were just as boring as when nobody showed up. he contemplated taking a nap, but the last thing he wanted was to be fired for slacking off. especially when the night shift paid him a bit more.

he turned side to side in the swivel chair, groaning in frustration. so far, he'd watched eight mma matches on his phone, cussing at how pathetic they were. nothing entertained him enough to keep him awake.

that thing embedded in his subconscious mind suddenly resurfaced, making him gulp in guilt. he could do it. it's not like she'll know... as if he was being watched, toji switched the light off in his booth and discreetly took his phone out, lowering the brightness and pulling out a tangled pair of earphones, and plugged them in. he downloaded that app, signing in with a random email he'd created ages ago.

[mention; compromised: victoria pedretti, on quinn]

he remembered her username and typed it in. not wanting to dwell too much on it, he clicked on the first 'story' he saw. he didn't read the description. he had no idea what he was to expect. thankfully, the audio started with some context. he instantly recognised your voice. based on what he understood in the first few minutes of the introductory chapter, it was a story about an agent watching over the witness she was supposed to protect. he realised that it was a woman x woman story. not that he minded. he just enjoyed listening to your voice. you surely had a singer's voice.

the more he listened, the more engrossed he was in the plot.

"i can stay on the line, sure..." you said, as your character stood below a hotel, at a distance, watching the woman you were on the phone with, from the window, keeping an eye out.

"you're not wearing anything underneath... i might not be the only person watching, you know," you chuckled. your laugh sounded better all over, probably due to the recording quality. toji paid attention to everything he heard.

"...tell me where you're touching...does it feel good?"

"i wanna see your other hand on your breast..."

"do you want me in that room?" your voice was laced with quick breaths...

"now i'm gonna hang up...no, not to touch myself... I don't care that you're close!"

toji sighed in exasperation, truly engrossed in the story.

"wait, shit, there is a man... fuck i think he's armed..."

toji had never clicked on 'next' that fast in his life. okay, he was hooked. when he first heard about this from you, he thought it was just audio-porn. he didn't expect a full on story with a plot, internal monologue, the background noises. it was as if it was happening around him.

the next chapter had you grunt and scream as you fought some attacker. how on earth did she record this shit? was she also fighting in the apartment? he smirked, realising what a double life she was leading.

"i saw that smirk, don't get any ideas..." you said coincidentally and toji had to look around him for a moment.

"you're very, very distracting..." your voice seemed closer whenever the background music got fainter. maybe it was the mic or some technical tweaking. but it really sounded like you were speaking in his ear.

your pants were now mixed with small laughs. it sounded blissful.

"don't ever be sorry for kissing me..." toji was surprisingly okay with hearing sounds of you kissing, probably another woman.

"oh, these lips... can i? touch them? fuck..." you moaned slightly... and then laughed. "did you just bite my thumb? you're so bad... i might have to punish you."

toji had to grasp his phone tightly as heard you make out, hearing your breaths mingled with the sounds of your lips moving against someone else's. you sounded so different, so confident.

"you like that, don't you? me on my knees... touching you, licking you, tasting you..."

fuck

toji knew you were saying this to a woman, but he couldn't help picturing himself in her place. your hums, whimpers, breaths, they were all elevating his senses. he felt his pants tighten.

"yes, fuck..."

"i love your neck..." you panted. toji raised his head, gulping.

"you're so hot... fuck... me..." your moans had started to get louder, breathier.

"what if i don't wanna hurry? what if... i wanna make you beg for it?" toji instinctively let his hand wander down his body, to his pants. he loosened his belt. he slid his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring out, harder than he expected it to be. your constant moans, whimpers and dirty words became music to his ears as he stroked his cock slowly.

"tell me how good it feels..."

toji groaned, quickening his speed, his eyes closed, his mind visualising your face. he imagined you doing everything he heard you do on the phone. touching him, licking him, tasting him... he fisted his cock to the sounds of your sweet voice, shamelessly.

"so good..." he hissed, as if to answer you, gliding his fist up and down his thick veiny cock, its tip glistening proudly.

"come for me, yes! yes! yes! fuuuuck..." you moan loudly, dragging the last word, breathing shakily.

"god..." toji gave up any restraint he had and let his cock burst like a dam, spoiling his pants.

he was high. high on your voice, your moans, your words. he wished he could experience it for the first time again.

a shrieking honk from the gate snapped toji back into reality. he zipped back up in a hurry, shoving his half-hard cock in his pants. he tied a jacket around his waist to hide it and scurried out of the booth to open the gate.

toji came home early in the morning, feeling floaty. he couldn't forget last night's events. not when you were right there. next door. probably recording the next one. toji didn't know how he was to face you, but he was damn sure about hearing you again.

and hear you he did. for days. he was finding the plot interesting too. but he was addicted to your voice. how were you so confident? how did you manage to record the perfect moans. did you have help? did you get off just to get a good audio? all these questions plagued toji's mind. he really wanted to ask you about it.

but how was he to do it without sounding like a creep? or worse, a pervert? but then again, you did till him about it yourself.

so, when he had to collect megumi from your house after coming back, he came up with the simplest excuse.

"see you later, gumi!" you ruffled his hair, watching him run to his father, who told him to go inside and wait for him.

before you could shut the door, he shoved his foot inside. "hey, uh... i had a question."

"come in..." you moved aside.

you were hungry, but didn't have the time to buy groceries. so, instant ramen it was...

toji followed you to the kitchen, rehearsing the imminent conversation in his head.

"what's wrong?" you asked, looking at his tensed brow.

"i'm a little starved for cash. megumi's birthday is coming and i want to give that urchin something good this time."

"awww..."

"you uh..." was he really going to ask that? would she even listen? "you were talking about that..."

you on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. so many of your friends had tried to do that same. the fact that toji was considering doing that made the composer in you mildly excited.

"you want to earn cash on quinn, am i right?"

toji's head shot up, looking at you, slightly horrified and ready to get his ass kicked out the door.

"alright."

"wait, what?"

"i'll help you... sell your voice."

"are you serious?"

"do i look like i'm joking?"

"would i even... be able to... you know..."

you leaned on the kitchen island, looking at toji, who had sat down in a chair across from you.

"just do it..."

"you expect me to do it just like that?" he asked.

"what, like it's hard?" you snorted.

toji just looked at you blankly. "you mean, you do it just like that?"

"women are expert at faking it, you know?" you smirked.

toji scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes.

wickedly, you began panting, whimpering, opening your mouth as lewd moans spilled out of you. you gripped the edge of the kitchen island, and whined, "yes! toji! just like that!"

toji felt like he'd been shot in the head... both, his heads... he felt a bulge in his pants. hearing you moan and actually seeing you moan were two different things. the way your eyes shut tight, brow creased, mouth opened and chest heaved, toji couldn't take his eyes of you.

you saw his reaction through squinted eyes and stopped, reverting to your normal self, scratching the back of your head, completely unbothered.

"so yes, toji... just like that..." you said, without the moans this time.

toji gulped.

"so, do you wanna record a demo? i can send it to my agent. if she likes it, she'll ask you to record a proper script."

toji sighed... what was he getting into? he didn't actually imagine himself doing it. would it be embarrassing? no, fuck it. he could really use the extra cash.

"no one can know," he said sternly.

"you can use a pseudonym. you can literally put an emoji as your name."

"whatever. as long as nobody can trace it back to me."

"i guarantee you they won't. let's send an anonymous demo, 'kay?"

"fine. but, i don't know how to do this shit. it's too... fucking dumb."

you chuckled. "it is. dumb and fun. but doesn't it make you feel... like a king, knowing that the world gets off to your voice?"

toji scoffed and smirked. oh, how he wished she knew that he had been getting off to her voice nearly every damn night, palming his dick, picturing you saying all those dirty things to him.

he followed you to your bedroom where you had set up your mic, your laptop, you desk, under a labyrinth of wires and cables. he was made to sit in the chair facing the mic. the fuck am i doing...

you tapped on your laptop, leaning forward on the desk. toji's hammering anxiety took a break when he realised how close you were. your tits were practically in his face. he'd only ever seen you in baggy clothing, so this was a pleasant surprise. they were big. but they'd easily fit in his hands. he was a little disgusted by the fact that he was severely attracted to you.

"okay... what would you like to say?"

"i don't know..."

"what are your go-to swear words?"

"uh... fuck?"

"and?"

"i don't swear because of my kid... so, i don't know... this is difficult, y/n..."

"what do you have to fear?"

she was right. what was he to lose? to fear? nothing. he knew how hot was. he knew ladies threw themselves at him. he knew his sex appeal was impeccable. so then why was this so difficult?

oh, he knew why. you. it was because of you. the way he'd listened to your moans all week, stealing glances at you whenever he saw you, and now that he was in your bedroom with you...

fuck that! this bitch just faked an orgasm in front of me without a problem. i can at least spit out a few sentences.

"how do you start?"

"well, i usually have a script and there's good enough build up."

"so, give me one of your scripts."

"really? you wanna say, 'touch my pussy'?"

"fuck no. ugh, this is frustrating," he groaned loudly, leaning back and running his hands through his hair.

"hey, wait, that's good!"

"huh?"

"say it again."

"this... is frustrating?"

"tojiiiii," you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm. "say it like you did before. with the groan and all."

"i can't just do it on command."

"do you want me to leave you here alone with a gravure magazine then?"

toji's narrowed his eyes at her. "you read those?"

"no, but, you get the point."

toji sighed. you thought of another way to get him riled up. if a sexy audio wasn't gonna happen, then an angry one it was... there were plenty of angsty stories in demand. you clicked on record without him knowing.

"stop acting like a virgin, toji," you said and he shot you a glare. you let your mouth run a marathon, "no, for real, you're a grown ass man with a nice, deep voice. you look like you'd be pissed off if someone so much as looks at you wrong. or worse, if someone tries to mess with your son-"

"watch your mouth," toji growled, grabbing your jaw with his fingers, pressing it tightly.

"or what?"

"or you regret ever letting me in this house. that kid fucking loves you. you keep him out of this. do not... ever use him... to use me," he snarled.

you pressed the spacebar to stop recording. toji pulled his hand back, putting two and two together.

"that... was something."

"i mean it."

"sorry... but damn, angry toji... is sexy..." you commented.

"yeah? you like that?" toji said with a smirk. you squealed, regretting not recording that.

"SAY THAT AGAIN." you began recording again.

toji let out a deep chuckle. "you want me to say that again, pretty girl?" oh, he was starting to get into it.

you nodded.

"beg for it..." toji whispered, slightly closer to the mic. he watched you hold back another squeal.

"use your words, baby."

you were almost jumping up and down at how good he sounded. you really wanted to use his voice. you figured your agent would ignore yours and focus on his.

you exhaled, "please, please say it again!"

"hmm..." toji's baritone voice reverberated in the mic. "that doesn't sound so convincing, princess..."

you banged the air above the desk, pursing your lips and grinned.

"please please please! i'll do anything!"

oh, toji was starting to see the fun in it. "anything, you say..."

"yes! whatever you say!" you too were blending well with him.

"get on your knees, then baby..." he said brusquely.

your jaw dropped, morphing into a wide smile as you silently cheered him. toji found your reactions entertaining. true, you'd been doing this longer than him, so you were probably used to hearing all that. you were genuinely enjoying him.

you gave him a thumbs up and he made his closing statement, making sure to murmur, "good girl..."

you stopped recording and grabbed toji by his shoulders, shaking him. "AAARRRRGGGH. you are a natural!!!!!"

toji smirked. that was oddly easy to do. mostly because you helped him into it.

"well, i'm not one to brag..."

"no, please brag."

"heh. do you think your agent will like it?"

"she will eat it. she will want to become it."

"how much do you make exactly?" he asked.

"i had to do a lot of small freebies until i got my big break. i made [good amount] per episode. i've done three stories, each with twelve chapters. im working on a fourth one... so it's incomplete."

that must have been the one toji had listened to the first time. he did click the first thing he saw. he'd been replaying the first three episodes over and over, coming undone to them. but now that you'd said there were more...

"that's actually very..."

"rich, right? i was surprised too."

"so, you're gonna send it to your agent now?"

"yep. she'll like it. under what name do you want it?"

toji thought about it. he couldn't have this traced back to him. not with megumi's life at risk. it had to be something entirely random. yet meaningful...

"how about... 707?"

you grinned. that was a smart pseudonym. "done."

"well... tell me how it goes. and once again... not a word about this in public. what happens in this room, stays in this room," he warned you.

"WAIT SAY THAT AGAIN!"

toji chuckled as he stood up to leave and rejoin his son. before he did, he inched closer to you and whispered in your ear, "beg for it, babygirl."

you groaned and flapped your hands, fanning yourself. "you're so good at this!"

you'd sent that clip to your agent and got a response from her a few days later. to say the least, you were surprised by her request.

so, you stood at toji's door, phone in hand. he opened it.

"'sup?"

"it's my agent."

toji shut the door behind him, not wanting megumi to hear anything.

"what'd she say?"

you simply held out your phone and the text she sent you.

'WHO IS THAT?' 'GIRL LOCK THAT MAN IN THE BASEMENT' 'he's got the job if he wants it. i just got a killer script! the only condition is'

toji raised an eyebrow at the last message.

'you both have to do it together'

#toji fushiguro #toji #fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x y/n #smut #megumi #Quinn #spicy #neighbours #asmr

[reiding-writing]

erotomania [ s.r ]

01 - exhortations

Summary:

You’d found yourself with a stalker, one who seemingly had a romantic obsession with you, and you had no idea what to do, except maybe confide in one of your team members.

WARNINGS: Signs of stalking, mentions of break-ins, fears of violence, mentions of panic attacks

pairing: spencer reid x gn!bau!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, mild fluff

wc: 6.8k

main masterlist!!

a/n: so… i decided to start a series- considering chapter length it’ll probably only be three parts and i hope to have them out once a week but knowing my college schedule i’m not sure about that 😭

<poem used - ‘my fire, my flame’ by ariana alonso>

thank you guys for all the love on my other uploads <33

series masterlist!!

01-exhortations, 02-avoidance, 03-revelations, 04-confession

It started with a rose.

A single white rose left haphazardly on your doorstep.

You didn’t really think much of it, your neighbours had a white rose bush they regularly pruned, and you figured the wind must have blown one of the loose roses cut from it over to your porch.

You’d often find scattered petals and wilting rose heads on your lawn, blown over by the wind to no fault of the old couple living next door. Although you did have to admit that a full rose was something that had never blown over before.

But hey, sometimes these things happen right?

That was the same rhetorical question you asked yourself two weeks later when a blank envelope was posted through your letter box alongside your regular mail. It looked like a birthday card, the envelope a pale yellow and closed shut with a small white sticker in the shape of a rose. Curious.

You debated on whether to open it at first, not wanting to accidentally intrude on somebody else’s private business, but after a few days of deliberating you came to the conclusion that reading what’s inside might help you find the intended recipient.

You didn’t find anything of note in the envelope, just a folded piece of white paper with a typed out romantic poem imprinted on its inner side. It was odd for sure, but it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You ended up throwing the envelope away. As much as you would’ve liked to have delivered it to its rightful recipient there just wasn’t enough information for you to do so. You just guessed that it was a teenager trying to romance one of their classmates and had posted their efforts through the wrong door.

It was harder to brush off the new succulent lining your kitchen windowsill.

You’d come home to your house after four days spend in Iowa on a case, absolutely exhausted. So much so it took you three separate trips in and out of your kitchen to realise that the three succulents usually lining your window had now been increased to four.

At first you just thought it was your exhaustion getting to you, but you knew for a fact that you’d only bought three. Garcia had made you pick them out specifically. And this new fourth one didn’t fit in.

You examined the new succulent closely, trying to figure out where it came from. It was a vibrant green colour, with small, round leaves that formed a rosette shape. Unlike your other succulents, this one had delicate white flowers blooming from its centre. It was a beautiful addition to your collection, but you couldn't help but wonder who had put it there and why.

You carefully examined the plant for any clues. There were no tags or labels indicating its origin, and it seemed to blend in seamlessly with the rest of your succulents, as if it had always been there. The thought of someone entering your home while you were away sent a shiver down your spine, but there were no signs of forced entry or any other evidence to suggest foul play.

You unfortunately didn’t have much time to mull over this new addition to your plant collection as the team were whisked away on another case, less than 24 hours after your last case finished.

Still, you couldn’t seem to get the small white flowers of the plant sat upon your windowsill out of your mind, and you were starting to question your sanity a little. Were you sure that you hadn’t bought four? Maybe you had. Maybe it’d been there the whole time.

“If it isn’t my favourite profiler, don’t tell Derek that,” Garcia almost immediately backtracked as she picked up the phone. “What can I do you for my sweet?”

“Hey Penny, just a random question, you remember when we went plant shopping a while back?” You held the phone up to your ear with your left hand, using your right to continue jotting down notes on the portable whiteboard the Montanna Police Department had provided your team with for the case you were working on.

“Oh of course I do my love. Why, Looking for a professional suggestion for your next addition?” You could practically hear Garcia’s smile through the phone as she spoke.

“No Pen, I just wanted to check something,” You let out a small chuckle at her exaggerated confidence in her knowledge of plants. ”Did I end up buying three succulents or four?”

“Three my love, two Chinese Jades and one Opalina I believe. Why’s that?”

“Oh no nothing, I was just checking which ones I’d bought with you and which ones I’d bought myself, thanks Pen,” You didn’t know why you felt the impulse to lie. Maybe it was your subconscious telling you that it was in fact you who had put the plant there. That you’d just been so busy that you’d forgotten about it. Either way you didn’t want to stir up the pot if you couldn’t prove anything was actually wrong.

But you also couldn’t rid of that feeling in the pit of your stomach that rose when Garcia confirmed you hadn’t bought the plant when out with her.

“Alrighty, anything else you need from her majesty of all knowledge?”

You give another small laugh at Garcia’s manner of speech. “No Pen, thank you.”

”Well then my dear, this lady’s got other fish you fry, I’ll catch you later,”

You hear the end dial through your phone before you can respond, a usual end to a phone call with Garcia, and whilst her little quips and jokes left you with a small smile on your face, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

A pale yellow envelope.

You feel a sense of deja vu when you pick it up from the floor on the inside of your front door, seemingly slotted through your letterbox just like the former had been, white rose sticker holding it closed and all.

The difference this time however, was that when you turned the envelope in your hand it had your name inked on the front, scrawled out in a messy cursive that stained parts of coloured paper black, the ink having bled as the name was written from the sheer amount of pressure used.

That’s the moment that you started to panic.

You could put the signs together by now. A perfectly de-thorned rose on your doorstep. Messages posted through your door. A new succulent left in your kitchen after you’d expressed interest in them. It wasn’t just a series of coincidences, they were signs. Signs of something you didn’t particularly want to think about.

The last one was the worst. It meant that whoever had taken it upon themselves to form a fascination with you had somehow managed to get inside of your house whilst you weren’t there.

You triple checked the locks on your doors that night, leaving the new envelope unopened on your kitchen counter.

You ended up taking it to work the next day, tucked away in your messenger bag and left under your desk as you tried to distract yourself through with your files.

You tried to convince yourself that you were just overthinking. Maybe the indented recipient of the letter just happened to have the same name as you. Maybe this was just the last two weeks of continuous stress was just taking it’s toll on you and making you paranoid. You tried to convince yourself. But you knew.

“Excuse me,”

Your internal monologue was cut off by a soft voice, and your mind was momentarily wiped of your dilemma as you looked up towards the source of the noise, the small receptionist from the front of your floor.

“This was dropped off last night, I believe it was for you.”

In her hand was a small rectangular package, wrapped in brown paper, and she held it out to you with a small smile.

“Oh, thank you,” You return her smile with one of your own, taking the package from her hand and watching her retreat back to her desk. You weren’t expecting anything delivered, were you?

Unwrapping the package only left you more confused. It was a leather bound copy of Romeo and Juliet, the cover a deep red and embossed with with gold roses and an intricate border, the book’s name embossed in a similar fashion in the cover’s centre, although flaking in some areas from the wear of the book.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned the book over in your hands, but as you opened the front cover that expression fell straight back into concern. A small rose, etched into the inside over in a black ink pen, fit with a single letter, ‘R.’

“Hey Spencer, uh- can I- borrow you for a sec?” You stand from your desk, walking around the cluster in the bullpen to stand behind Spencer’s, head buried in the files he was working on.

“Of course, what’s up?” Spencer took a second to look up, folding the folder closed and leaving his pen inside to mark the page. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah uh- I uh- Were you expecting a book delivery?”

You held the book out towards him, eyes silently pleading for him to say yes. A part of your brain still denied the inevitable, that it wasn’t some outside person who had been leaving things around for you to find. That there wasn’t someone who knew where you lived, and now where you worked, sending you eerily creepy ‘gifts’.

Spencer inspected the book in his hands, examining it closely with narrowed eyes.

“Not that I know of...” He looked up at you, eyebrow slightly raised as he handed the book back to you. “I already have this copy at home,”

Your stomach dropped a little when he confirmed it wasn’t his.

“Right, sorry,” You take the book back from him with a pursed smile, holding it in both of your hands and tapping your nails against the back cover.

You logically knew it wasn’t for him, Spencer was all for buying things second hand, but he would never pick up a book with this much wear and tear unless was a first edition owned by some prolific scholar, the spine damaged and the pages folded and scrawled with annotations that you weren’t sure you wanted to read, but hearing the confirmation just made it sink in a little further.

“Are you alright? You seem a little tense.” Spencer’s voice cut you out of another internal spiral, and you gave him a quick nod.

“Hm? Oh yeah i’m alright, thanks anyway Spence,” You give him a small smile and a half wave as you retreat back to your own desk with the book in hand.

Spencer stared at you for a moment longer, watching as you sat back down at your desk, discarding the book behind your stack of files as if you couldn’t bare to look at it any longer.

Something seemed very off with you.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

My fire, my flame,

My one and the same.

Swiftly swinging from life to end,

Through the times, we meet again.

My lover, my friend,

My mirror, my mend.

My fire, my flame,

No darkness can tame.

Ochre to blue, two as one.

Never unbroken, never undone.

Healing the hurt, flame dims down.

Fire prevails, doubt it drowns.

Forever and true, I am your blue,

The one you felt, the one you knew.

Drunken to sober, you are my ochre,

The one who inspires all my desires.

Over and over, we dance again,

Swiftly swinging from life to end.

It was nearly midnight, and yet you felt wide awake.

A part of you wanted to sleep, lay in bed and pretend that nothing was happening, but you knew that your mind wasn’t going to let you.

You’d sucked up the resolve to open the envelope you’d stored away in your bag, another poem left inside. Except this time instead of being typed out and printed, it was written in the same ink that had adorned its sleeve.

Some of it was barely legible, but you found the words ingrained in your mind almost as soon as you read them. They were sweet from a surface level, a message of true and eternal love, but under your circumstances the only emotions that it evoked from you was a mix of dread and fear.

Your mind soon flickered over to the book you’d left on your nightstand, and you soon found yourself curled up under your duvet with the book in hand, lamp left on both to aid your reading and provide you with a small sense of security in the warm light it cast over the walls of your bedroom.

The narrative of the story was what you’d expect, the traditional tale of Romeo and Juliet, but that wasn’t what you were interested in, it was the annotations, written in the same handwriting as the poem left discarded on your coffee table.

It seemed like a lot of references to love, mainly to the female protagonist in Romeo and Juliet, and you noticed that your initials and “R.” were written a lot.

It seemed that whoever had taken a liking to you really liked you... a little too much.

There were references to your personality, how much you loved things like animals, reading books and eating dark chocolate. They had even written that your favourite colour was burgundy.

You were starting to find this rather unnerving.

The part that really sent you over the edge into a panic was one line in particular, underlined so many times that there was a small rip in the page.

These violent delights have violent ends.

The book in your hand was soon replaced with your phone, held up to your ear as took in slow breaths through your nose.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You heard Spencer’s voice ring through your phone.

“Hey uh, I’m so sorry to call you so late but uh- Can I ask you for a favour?” The tone of your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, not at all aided by the small tremble of your hand.

“Yeah of course, anything for you, what is it?”

“Can I uh,” You hesitate for a second. “Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer responded quickly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I just, don’t want to be on my own right now,” It wasn’t exactly a revelation. There had been a few instances where tough cases left the team feeling more comfortable spending the time after in the company of someone else.

Most of them had family or lovers as their comfort, but in the case of Spencer, not having any contact with his father and his mother institutionalised, and your parents living across the country, you often found comfort in each other instead.

“Thank you,”

It seemed like you wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

“It’s no problem at all, I’ll see you soon?” Spencer’s voice was soft and understanding, and you found yourself increasingly grateful for his insomniatic nature.

“Yeah, see you soon…”

You let out a small breath of relief as you hang up the phone, piling some things into a backpack, tattered book included, before locking up the house and driving to Spencer’s apartment

The drive there seemed to be one of the longest drives of your life, constantly deliberating with yourself on whether to confide in Spencer about your theory. Part of you wanted to tell him, you knew with an outside objective view alongside his intelligence that he’d be able to find you a solution, but you also didn’t want to burden him.

When you reach his apartment, you knock on the door twice. “Spence?”

The door unlocked almost before you’re finished knocking, and Spencer stands on the other side, dressed in tardis pyjama pants and a black t-shirt, his brown hair a little flattened, presumably from tossing around in bed trying to get comfortable.

“Hey,” He stepped aside to let you in, adjusting the crooked glasses sat over his nose.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you so late, thank you for letting me come over-“ You blurt out a hasty apology for your intrusion as you take your shoes off at the door and slump down on Spencer’s couch, dropping your bag on the floor next to you.

Spencer followed you with his eyes as he closed and locked the door behind you. “It’s totally fine, it doesn’t matter if it’s 2pm or 2am, you’re always welcome, you know that,”

Spencer smiles at you before asking, “So, what’s going on?”

“I think I’m being stalked-"

The words almost melded together with how fast you spoke them, and it’s only after the whole sentence leaves your mouth you realise that you’d blurted out the thing you’d been mentally fighting over telling him or not.

Well, so much for dealing with it on your own.

Spencer’s smile immediately disappears, being replaced with a look of concern. “Stalked? What do you mean? What’s been happening?”

You sigh softly at Spencer’s expression. There was no backtracking from this now. So you start right from the beginning.

“Well, a few weeks ago I found this perfectly pruned rose on my doorstep,"

Spencer listens to your explanation with a small nod. “Right…”

“But I wasn’t like concerned or anything because my neighbours have a rose bush, and I figured it was just the wind or something. You know, sometimes that kind of stuff happens right? But then over the last few weeks things keep turning up and I know that it’s not normal you know?”

Spencer’s look of concern only grows as you begin explaining, and he took a seat next to you on the couch. “What kind of things have been showing up? Apart from the rose?”

“Like two-ish weeks after the rose thing, there was an envelope posted through my door alongside the rest of my mail, and I ended up opening it because it didn’t have a name on the front and I wanted to to figure out who it was for right?”

Spencer gives you a small nod as a gesture for you to continue.

“I thought it was a birthday card at first, but I’m pretty sure it was a poem, it was just typed out and stuck in the envelope, no names or addresses or anything. So I just threw it out and moved on. I figured it was some teenager who’d posted a love note through the wrong door.”

You use your hands to gesture your explanation, your right leg bouncing absentmindedly as the nervous tension builds up in your body.

“And then after the case we had in Iowa I came home and instead of three plants on my kitchen windowsill there was four. And that was when I was like ‘okay something’s not right here’, and I even rang Penny to check and she confirmed that I’d only bought three,”

Spencer raises a brow, his expression furrowing further if that was possible. “Wait, it turned up in your house?”

You give him a small nod. “I checked all the doors and windows and everything but there was no evidence that anyone had broken in, and by this point I’m like genuinely questioning my sanity over whether I’d actually just bought this stupid plant myself and was freaking myself out over it, but then yesterday evening after I got home from the Airport I found another envelope by my front door, same colour, shape and everything, they even both had the same sticker keeping them closed, but this one had my name written on the front of it,”

By this point, your explanation had turned into more of a ramble, and by the time you had reached a comfortable place to stop, you were feeling short on breath.

“And you opened it?”

You respond to Spencer’s question with a nod, brushing a piece of hair from your eye. “I opened it an hour ago maybe?”

“And it was another poem?”

You give Spencer another small nod in affirmation at his prediction.

“Okay, what else? Did anything else happen?” Spencer’s hand reaches out towards the curve of your knee, effectively halting the nervous tic you’re using to release your tension.

“Well, I showed you this earlier-”

You bend forward to pull your backpack up onto your lap, rifling through it to pull out the worn copy of Romeo and Juliet to present him with it once more.

“it was left at the office’s front desk which half makes me want to believe that it’s not related, but I was reading the annotations earlier and they’re really specific and I freaked myself out which is why I called you in the first place-“

Spencer’s brows crease under the rims of his glasses as his eyes pour over the book’s cover again. “Who left it for you?“

“I don’t know Spencer that’s my issue," You sigh softly as you turn the book over in my hands. “Can you just read through this for me please? I didn’t finish it because I freaked myself out and then immediately came over here so-“

You over-explain your reasoning for wanting him to read through the book for you, figuring that if you could give him a valid reason then you would feel less guilty about asking him to do it in the first place.

Spencer takes the book from you hands whilst you’re still explaining yourself, beginning to flick through the pages one by one, pulling his middle and ring fingers down the page as he scans over the writing.

It’s times like these you’re thankful that Spencer’s reading speed is 85 times faster than the average person’s, and you find your eyes following his fingers as he traces them over the pages, taking note of how he bends his middle finger ever so slightly so that his fingertips are level with each other and how he keeps his index finger raised away from the paper’s surface. It was oddly distracting to watch.

It takes him little more than five minutes to have read through the whole thing, with him stopping a few times along the way to make a couple of comments as he does.

“Well he makes reference to your favourite colour, and your birthday...”

“....your job...”

“...and of course your name.”

“Jesus, the guy’s really obsessed with you isn’t he.”

You furrow your face as Spencer confirms your concerns, rubbing your hands over your legs as a self-soothing technique.

Spencer thinks again for a moment as he shuts the book in his lap. “I think you should spend the night here.”

You can see his gears are turning, the same cogs turning when he’s deep in a profile. He’s gone from being concerned to calculated. “No way in hell am I leaving you alone tonight.”

“I don’t wanna burden you this is a me problem-“ You immediately shut down his suggestion despite you having stayed at his apartment on multiple occasions in the past.

You’d gotten an objective opinion on the situation. That was all you wanted. You didn’t need to drag him any further into your personal issues.

“Hey no,” Spencer shakes his head as he places the book down on the small oak coffee table in front of you. “You’re not burdening me, okay? You don’t have to be alone tonight, you can sleep here.”

“I’m not letting you leave now,” Spencer adds with finality. “You’re clearly anxious, and you look like you need to get some proper sleep.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at Spencer’s insistence, flickering your eyes over to the book on the table, its embossing glinting slightly under the warm overhead light.

He might not exercise it often, but Spencer definitely knew how to put his foot down when he needed to.

“Thank you…”

“Hey, look at me?” Spencer waits until you look at him, then he offers you a soft, reassuring smile. “...Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

You give him a short nod with a pursed smile, not entirely convinced of his assurance but wanting to go along with it anyway for the sake of being able to calm down enough to at least get some sleep. “Okay,“

“Let’s get you set up for the night. We’ll talk this through in the morning.”

Spencer stands up, pushing himself up from the sofa with his hands and leaving into the bedroom. “Get as comfy as you’d like okay? I’ll be back.”

He turns to leave then stops at the door and looks at you one more time. “Oh, and... do you want to borrow one of my T-shirts?”

The invitation was obvious. “Uh yeah if you don’t mind…”

He gives you a small nod as he retreats into his bedroom, re-emerging a few minutes later with a fleece blanket, one of the pillows from his bed, and a black T-Shirt identical to the one he was wearing. “Here, my couch probably isn’t the comfiest place to sleep but-”

He hands the T-shirt over to you with a small smile, stacking the blanket and the pillow on the end of the sofa.

“Don’t be silly Spencer, I’m grateful for you even letting me in let alone letting me stay over on such short notice,” You return his smile with one of your own as you take the shirt from him, retreating into the bathroom to change into it.

You feel the soft cotton against your bare skin as you pull the fabric over your head, noticing that it’s been washed recently, and it still has a slight smell of Spencer’s cologne. It falls quite low, Spencer having to have bought a bigger size than he realistically needed due to the length of his torso.

Your mind continues to run rampant as you exit the bathroom, a mix of the overwhelming stress of your situation and the conflicting feeling of serenity from the solicitude radiating from Spencer.

It was a lot to process for it to be just 1am.

You basically collapse onto Spencer’s couch, burying your head into his pillow with a groan and unfolding the blanket to throw it over yourself.

“If you need anything, anything at all just wake me up okay?” Spencer continued to express that kind compassion that made your chest tingle a little, definitely not helped by the faint scent of his cologne radiating from his pillow, joined by a trace of lavender, most likely an essential oil he’d been using in the hope it would help him sleep better.

“Yeah, thank you again Spencer, it really means a lot.” Your voice is half muffled by the angle of your head against the pillow as you crane your neck to look at him.

“It’s really no problem. You’re always welcome,” He switched off the small lamp keeping the living room, dimly lit, allowing it to fall into a comfortable darkness. “Get some sleep okay?”

“Yeah, thank you Spence…” Spencer gives you one last smile, joined by a half wave that you found more endearing than awkward, before leaving for his bedroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

For the next half hour or so you lie awake on his couch, trying in vain to sleep despite the rampaging thoughts running through your head. It was only when you heard Spencer open the door and quietly enter the room that you finally turned your head to look at him.

The surprise on his face told you that he hadn’t expected you to be still awake. “Why are you still up?”

“My mind’s running a million miles a minute, why are you up?” Your voice is partially hoarse from tiredness, and you shift around on the couch until you are lying facing in his direction.

“Just wanted to get a glass of water…” Spencer purses his lips slightly as his eyes trail over the position you’re lying in, clearly feeling a sad-sympathy at your mind’s insistence at you staying awake. “Hey, can I try something?”

Spencer slowly makes his way over to where you’re lying, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of you.

“Sure?” You raise an eyebrow slightly, rubbing one of your knuckles over your eyelid. Spencer smiles at your reaction, extending his hand palm-up.. “Alright... can I have your hand please?”

“Should I sit up?” You extend your right hand towards him, using your left to prop yourself up onto your elbow.

Spencer shakes his head. “No, no, keep being comfortable... I think I know how to fix your problem.”

Spencer then reaches out and takes your hand firmly in his, holding it between both of his hands with your palm facing the ceiling. “Ready?”

You give him a short nod in expectancy, eyes flickering between the way his hands hold yours and his eyes as you lie on your back.

His hands were frigidly cold compared to the warmth of his apartment, but you couldn’t say that it was uncomfortable, it was actually quite soothing, a nice contrast from the small cocoon of warmth under the blanket.

Spencer slowly rubs his fingers on the inside of your palm, adding a gentle pressure first to the bases of your fingers and working his way down slowly, pressing the pads of his fingertips into your skin in small circles. “Close your eyes and breathe deeply.”

You follow his guidance with no hesitation, relaxing back into the pillow beneath your head and closing your eyes as you focus on the feeling of Spencer’s fingers dancing over the palm of your hand.

“Just breathe in and out....” You can hear the confidence in his voice as he continues to move the pressure downwards, pressing his thumb against your wrist and gently massaging it.

“A lack of sleep is usually the cause of delayed melatonin production, and studies have shown that certain pressure points on our bodies can help speed up the process.” Spencer begins to explain the reasoning and process behind the gentle hand massage he’s giving you, his voice soft and quiet.

“It was traditionally used in China as a part of acupressure, with six identified pressure points on our bodies that encouraged the production of serotonin and melatonin to help with relaxation and reduce chronic pain, but in the present day it’s been adapted into a massaging technique to help people fall asleep.”

The softness of his voice paired with the gentle massaging of his fingers on your wrist quickly left you feeling more relaxed.

“There are two pressure points on different points of your ankles, one point on each foot, one between your eyebrows, one behind each of your ears, and one on each of your wrists.” You find yourself nodding along to his explanation absentmindedly as you enjoy the gentle pressure of his fingers.

“Although, the only pressure points that have been reliably linked to melatonin production are those on your wrists and behind your ears, here, lie on your side for me.” Spencer gives your wrist a gentle pull to encourage you to turn over, which you very gladly oblige to, humming a soft agreement as you turn to lie of your side facing him with your eyes still closed.

He gently slides his hand up the side of your neck, the coldness of his fingers sending a small shudder up your back, and he presses his thumb into the small gap between your jaw and the rest of your skull, rubbing it in slow circles.

You let out a small, almost inaudible sigh at the gentle pressure he’s applying, and Spencer can tell that you’re quickly falling into full relaxation. “The best results from acupressure occur after 3 - 5 minutes of continuous pressure and…”

His voice trails off slowly as he feels the tension in your jaw release, and he glances down towards your face, a small smile adorning his features at your relaxed expression. “…is best done in a comfortable environment…”

He continues to rub gentle circles into your skin for the next few minutes before gently removing his hand from you, standing up from where he was sat on the coffee table with a soft smile still gracing his features.

“Sleep well..” He whispers the words under his breath as he slowly retreats back to his bedroom, the glass of water he originally sought after completely forgotten about.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’d been a few days since you’d confided in Spencer about the stalking situation and stayed the night with him, and fit with a new set of locks on your doors, you’d gone back home to stay on your own.

You walk into the BAU office expecting to see Spencer at his desk like always, ready to talk through your next steps forward with him, except he wasn’t there. You check the watch on your wrist. 7:45. He should’ve arrived by now. Why wasn’t he here?

"Hey uh, do you know where Spencer is?" You approach Morgan over at the kitchenette, leaning against the counter top with your elbow.

“Good morning to you too lover.” Morgan gives a half-laugh at your lack of your usual greetings, making sure to throw in a tease about how the first thing you talk about is Spencer’s whereabouts, not something entirely unfounded considering how close you and Spencer had been getting over the last week or so.

“Ha ha very funny, do you know where he is?” You respond to his quip with a slight roll of your eyes.

Morgan shrugs his shoulder slightly, taking a sip of his freshly made coffee. “Maybe he slept in,”

“Spencer Reid? The man with four wake up alarms?” You furrow your expression slightly. Something about Spencer not already being in the office didn’t sit right with you.

“Okay okay, maybe that was a bad guess, but I don’t know, who knows what he might be doing,” Morgan remains nonchalant if not a little heedless. “Maybe he stumbled on an antique Russian novel collection on the way to work or something,”

“He’s never late for work-“ You mutter to yourself under your breath, half-ignoring Morgan’s attempts at explaining Spencer’s lateness, and you pull your phone out of your pocket, dialling Spencer’s number and holding up the phone to your ear, the consecutive rings echoing out of your phone’s speaker.

Pick up Spencer.

If anyone on the BAU team would know Spencer’s whereabouts, it should be the two of you. And yet neither of you had any clue where he was.

The phone continues to ring until it reaches his voicemail. there’s no answer.

Something was wrong.

You try to call him again. Nothing. This was not like Spencer at all.

Your anxiety spikes as your subconscious links his lack of answering back to your stalking situation, What if Spencer was in danger? What if this stalker had followed you to Spencer’s apartment that night you stayed with him and now knew where he lived?

The minute your brain made the connection you were turning on your heels to exit the office, grabbing your car keys from your desk as you did so.

“Hey-” Morgan follows you over to your desk, putting an arm out as you try to walk past him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Spencer’s apartment.” You try to push Morgan’s arm out of the way, only for him to block you with his entire body instead.

“Slow your roll there turbo, everyone is late every now and again, that doesn’t mean we have to turn up to their house out of nowhere.” Morgan’s explanation would be logical under normal circumstances, but he didn’t know that you were being stalked. Nor did he know that this stalker had possibly found Spencer’s address due to your own stupidity leaving him in potential danger.

“Listen Morgan I appreciate your apprehension but I do not have time for this right now.” You manage to swerve your way around Morgan and push your way out of the glass doors of the BAU office, bee-lining it down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator.

“Hey! Wait up!” Morgan’s voice echoes down the stairwell as he runs out of the office after you, only managing to catch up to you as you stop to unlock your car, and he blocks the door from opening with his hand. “What is going on?”

“Morgan, if you want to ask me questions, get in the car.” The tone of your voice leaves no room for argument, and Morgan can tell be this point taht you’re not alright, so he gives you a short nod and goes around the front of the car to get in the passenger’s side.

Please be okay, please be okay...

That’s what’s going through your mind as you leave the BAU building, running the speed limit as you drive towards Spencer’s apartment with an awful feeling in your stomach.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on or what?” Morgan begins his questioning as soon as you hit the main road.

“I think Spencer is in danger.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, both hands braced against the steering wheel as you turn a roundabout.

“Okay, listen.... I’m with you in the fact that this is very out of character for Spencer... but there’s no use in jumping to conclusions, okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, clearly concerned at how fast your mind linked Spencer being late with him being in danger. “Let’s just approach this calmly and rationally.”

“I am being rational.”

“No you’re not, you’re panicking,” Morgan gives your shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Just take a deep breath and a second to think.” Morgan’s voice was full of a calm, soothing reassurance even as you were clearly anxious. “You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack if you don’t.”

“I know I know I’m fine-“

You open your palms against the steering wheel as if to emphasise your point, exhaling heavily through your nose as you pull into the parking lot of Spencer’s Apartment building, leaving your car parked at an angle across two parking spaces.

You’re thankful in this moment that Spencer lives so close to the office building, and you shut off the car quickly, exiting it with the same haste.

Morgan follows closely behind you as you jog across the concrete towards the entrance of the building, locking your car remotely as you pushed the outside door open and started your ascent of the stairs.

“Come on, calm down you don’t need to run-” Morgan called after you as he followed you up the stairs, continuing to try in vein to get you to take a step back and just calm down a little.

You didn’t listen of course, and you only come to a halt once you’ve reached Spencer’s apartment door.

You reach out your right hand to knock as Morgan reaches your side, but as your knuckles come into contact with the wood of the door it creaks open, the hinge pin of the door not fully closed.

Oh no.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #erotomania

[ivys-garden]

Hey let me be negative for a moment

It's starting to annoy me how much the “Pearl is a traitor” idea is popping up in life series posts/stories

Pearl hasn't betrayed her allies once.

Last Life - Pearl never turns on Scott or Cleo. Not once. (Well she and Scott did kill Cleo but that was to get them back as an allie)

Double Life - Pearl has no allies. Scott abandoned her and therefor she can't be a Traitor to him and Cleo since she's not allied with them until the very end. Even then she doesn't attack them, she only goes after Impulse and Bdubs, she only kills Cleo and Martyn when they turn on Scott. (And no its not her fault Scott abandoned her, she couldn't have known that would happen and she was actually searching for her soulmate before going into the nether)

Limited Life - She was literally going to sacrifice herself for Bigb. And she doesn't attack Grian at all when he joins her team. The neighbours did have an alliance with the clockers but the clickers ended it when the neighbours allied with TIES, which again Pearl and Bigb did not know that TIES and clockers were enemies so again that's not their fault and isn't treachery. The closest Pearl comes to betraying someone is when she attacks Etho but at that time TIES and the neighbours had cut ties and Pearl didn't know Etho was allied with Grian (and she stopped attacking when they told her)

Secret Life - Pearl never turns on the mounders, she even fights back against Mumbo wanting to abandon Joel. She never attacks Gem and The Scots until they are literally the final teams left and even then she never actively goes after Gem, only Scott. (And before someone says it, yes I know Cleo told Gem that Pearl was treacherous, 1. They were enemies at the time, 2. Pearl has never gone after Cleo when they were allies and 3. Cleos nickname is gaslight so yeah obviously that was a lie ffs, they were trying to sow distrust. )

Real Life - I don't think Pearl even got one hit on any of the 4Gs soooooo

Am I taking this too seriously? Yeah, But..

#this is mostly a joke btw #i dont actually carw that much #just something i noticed (That is objectively wro- #life series #traffic life series #traffic life #traffic life smp #life series smp #life smp #the life series #pearlescentmoon #traffic smp #traffic light smp #trafficblr #traffic series #double life smp #secret life

[keikikait]

ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap. 

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV. 

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking. 

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor.  “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.” 

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee. 

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home. 

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.” 

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up. 

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

#keikiwrites #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #biker!megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk megumi #enemies to lovers #slow burn #neighbors to lovers #✿: megumi! #f!reader

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Seventeen - The Third Date

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

2.1K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

warnings: smut, p in v, hickies, blowjob

Series Masterlist

The third date. That was meant to be the big one, right? The one where... it happened? She had no reason to be nervous. It was Daniel, a man she knew incredibly well, a man she was pretty sure she was in love with.

With Milo eating his dinner, Y/N went to the neighbours door and knocked.

The neighbours Seventeen year old daughter pulled open the door. "Hey Miss L/N," she said. "Do you want me to get my mum?"

"Actually, Mol, I'm here to see you. Would you fancy babysitting Milo tonight? I can pay and I've got pizza money for you," she said.

"I'd love to," Mollie answered. "Let me just check with my mom."

The door shut in Y/Ns face and she waited patiently for Mollie to get back to her with an answer. If she couldn't get a babysitter for Milo she'd just have to reschedule with Daniel. Daniel wouldn't mind. He might even suggest to bring Milo along.

The door opened again and Mollie nodded her head. "She said its fine, Miss L/N. What time do you want me there?" She asked.

At 7PM, Y/N was ready to go. She was dressed to the nines, wearing her favourite dress, her favourite shoes and her favourite jewellery. Milo had told her all about his new favourite dinosaur as she did her hair and makeup.

At 7PM, Mollie the neighbour came over to begin babysitting and Y/N left. She kissed Milos head as she said goodbye and walked out of the front door, driving her way to Daniels house.

She didn't know what he had in store for their third date. Neither did Daniel until a couple of days ago. All he knew was that be wanted it to be special. Just them, not surrounded by loads and loads of people.

For days he had been attempting to cook and forcing his friends to try it. Day by day he got slightly better, but he was still nervous about the date to come.

He had started cooking as Y/N drove. He had done his preparation fir the meal during the day. All that was left to do now was cook it.

Just like she was, Daniel was dressed at his best. It felt incredibly strange to be dressed in a suit for a dinner in his own house. The candles were set out on the table, along with his best wine and best cutlery. This night was going to be perfect.

The doorbell rang and Daniel felt his anxiety spike. It didn't need to, it was Y/N, the person he was expecting.

When the door opened, his breath caught his his throat. He knew she was beautiful, knew she was incredibly beautiful, but this was something else. "Holy shit," he breathed as he welcomed her into the house.

Her shoes clicked against the floor as she stepped towards him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled away the imprint of her lipstick was still there and she went to wipe it away, bur Daniel stopped her. He'd wear it with pride for the entire night.

"Milo is with a babysitter, so you've got me for the entire night," she said as Daniel led her into his kitchen.

He lit the candles and poured her some wine. The night started out as easy, light conversation. They sipped the wine slowly as they talked, and the conversation turned to heavier topics, the kinds of things they found themselves talking about late at night where she couldn't sleep and Daniel was in another country.

He tried with the dinner, he really did. But she had to step in. The recipe was open on the counter top and she cooked away.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said as he wrapped her arms around her hips. "I'm so useless."

"Shut up," she said with a laugh as she moved the food around in the pan, ensuring it cooked evenly. "It's a good thing I enjoy cooking, huh?"

She plated the food up and they sat at the table, talking their way through dinner.

"This is the third date," said Danny between bites of the food. That was delicious, but it didn't surprise him. "And, since it's the third date I was wondering if... you'd..."

It was so difficult to get the words out of his mouth. And she didn't want to assume that he wanted to take things to the next level.

Daniel groaned and finished off his glass of wine. That was all if the courage he needed. "Be my girl," he said. "I want to love you properly."

The dinner was abandoned. The moved around the table to get to each other. As soon as they were together she wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed hers on her hips, holding her flush against him.

"Yes, Danny. Oh My God, yes."

He pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes shut and her hands Oundle his hair, moving through it, tugging at the strands.

Daniel couldn't stop the groan that left his lips. His body was fully pressed against hers, pressing her against the table. "Fuck," he groaned, his grip growing tighter. He ever so slightly hiked up the skirts of her dress.

"Take me upstairs," she whispered against his lips.

Daniel picked her up. He took her into his arms and carried her through his house. It was incredibly romantic, the way he held her so tight. She couldn't help but stare at him as he carried her up the stairs. This must be how wonderful brides felt on their wedding days.

Daniel took her into her bedroom and laid her down onto the bed. As soon as he could he resumed kissing her, his body on top of hers, pressing her into the mattress. They'd kissed before, sure, but they didn't usually allow this for themselves, didn't allow for this much intimacy.

But they couldn't stay away from each other. Daniel wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything. It was a good thing she wanted him too.

Her skirts bunched up around her hips as she wrapped her legs around him. Daniel couldn't help himself; he rutted against her. She whined, her hands finding his hair, tugging slightly. He couldn't stop the groan leaving his lips.

"I need you," she whispered and rolled onto her stomach. Daniel obliged, unzipping her dress. He pushed it off of her shoulders, goose bumps following where he touched. "Danny," she whispered.

He slowly pulled her dress all of the way off until she was in nothing but lingerie beneath him. She'd taken her time choosing it out. It was her best pair, the only pair truly sexy. It was plain, with thin straps around her shoulders and her hips. A small bow sat in the centre of each piece of underwear, and the border was scalloped.

Daniel let out a low whistle. He wanted this image burned into his brain for the rest of his life. She looked so pretty laid out in front of him, laid out for him. He let his hand trail down her sides and she shivered.

He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his shirt, letting his clothes fall next to her dress. As soon as he was in nothing but his boxers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers.

Daniel held her tight. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over so that she was sat on him, hips moving on top of his. His eyes were shut as he groaned, his grip tightening. "Fuck," he hissed and she leaned down to kiss him again.

But the kiss didn't last very long. Soon Daniel was kissing down her neck. He didn't leave a hickey, not until he got to her chest. A series of moans left her lips as he kissed her chest, paying attention to what wasn't covered by her bra. "Danny," she moaned as he reached behind and unclasped the bra.

It fell away from her chest and Daniel threw it to the side. Immediately he began sucking a dark mark into the flesh, marking her as his. Her head was thrown back and she couldn't stop her hips from gyrating against him.

But suddenly she pulled away from him. He climbed off of him and Daniel tried to follow, but she pushed him back down, keeping him laying on the bed. She shuffled down to the bed until she was between his legs and pulling at his boxers, freeing his cock.

She wrapped her fingers around his already hard length and pumped. Once, twice, before she wrapped her lips around his tip. "Holy shit," Daniel cried out, accidentally bucking his hips towards her.

He escaped from her mouth but she quickly wrapped her lips around him once again. She ran her tongue along the veiny underside and moved her lips down his shaft. Her cheeks hollowed and she closed her eyes, concentrating all of her efforts into bringing him close to the edge.

Only close. He wasn't going to cum until he'd had his turn with her. But that wasn't her decision. Daniel pulled her off of him and pulled her up. He rolled her over once again, trapping her beneath him. He kissed her, his fingers hooking around the strappy waistband of her panties.

He pulled her panties off and dropped them onto the floor. Daniel pushed his fingers gently through her folds, feeling just how wet she was. He couldn't wait to be inside of her.

And he didn't have to wait. He rolled a condom on, pushed himself inside of her and she let out a gasp, gripping onto his shoulders. "Fuck, Danny," she whispered, throwing her head back. "Holy fucking fuck."

Daniel grunted. Nothing in the world could come close to this feeling. Slowly he began moving, pulling his hips back every so slightly and pushing back in. He kept his pace even, giving her time to adjust to his length.

But Daniel sped up. She moaned and whined, crying out his name beneath him as he fucked her.

She didn't last very long. Maybe it was all of the anticipation, maybe it was the fact that she hadn't been fucked like this since before Milo was born.

Daniel fucked her through her orgasm. "That's it, sweetheart," he grunted, kissing her slowly, tenderly. "So good f'me."

He pace slowed, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he brought himself closer and closer to his orgasm. "Shit," he grunted, his hips stilling against her as he came, spilling into the condom.

"Fuck," she whispered as he pulled out of her.

Daniel got rid of the condom and climbed into the bed beside her. He wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. He kissed her head and pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her. "So, you still happy to be mine?" He asked, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

"Are you kidding me?" She said as she touched his tattoo. It hadn't escaped Daniel just how much she loved his tattoos, loved tracing them. "I don't think happy is the right word. I'd go for something like... really happy."

"Really happy then," Daniel said and kissed her again.

They laid like that for just a few minutes, enjoying each others company. "What do we tell the kids?" She asked as she reached for her phone.

"The truth," Daniel answered as she turned the phone on and checked the time.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. She jumped out of bed and quickly got herself dressed. "Fuck, I've got to get back to Milo and the sitter."

Daniel did the same. He jumped out of bed and got back into his trousers and shirt. But he left off the tie and didn't button his shirt all of the way. They'd just gotten done boning, but fuck she wanted him again. But there was no time, she needed to get back to Milo.

"Let me come with you," Daniel said, unlocking his phone to call her a cab.

Y/N stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She turned towards Daniel, undeniable smile one of face. "You seriously want to come with me?"

"Of course I do, you're my girlfriend."

Girlfriend. She loved the sound of that.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lily-ann-b @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #dr3

[monzabee]

a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the unveiling

buttercup, chapter five

a/n: I mean, I just had to make him wear the black suit.... (said in a foreshadowing way)

summary: you only mustered two steps down the stairs before you spotted a surprising, yet familiar masked man sprawled out on the living room floor, unconscious and bleeding.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, injuries, kissing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3236

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Your eyes fluttered shut a moment as you felt the cool night breeze caress your features. You hadn’t bothered with a coat, so it was simply a woollen blanket you clutched around your pyjamas. 

Jumping slightly, you whirled around as you heard one of the doors up to the rooftop creak open. 

“Oh!” you clutched your chest as you discovered the identity of the intruder, “it’s just you.” 

“Hey,” Matt closed the door that led directly down into his loft. 

“I was just about to call you actually, or knock on your door, but then I figured that you were probably asleep,” you eyed the dark sweatpants he wore as well as the t-shirt that clung to his brawny arms as he stepped closer to where you stood, a vision that caused sinful thoughts to stir within your mind, “how did you know I was up here?”

“Uh, I didn’t,” his touch found your lower back as he reached you, “I just heard a noise.”

“Well, it’s just me,” you turned your gaze back to the night sky. 

Tilting his head, he checked, “you okay?”

“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep,” you nodded, “but I’m okay.”

His eyes twitched slightly as the faintest of smiles threatened at his lips, “so you didn’t wanna call me because something was wrong.”

“No…” you bit down on your smile, “I was just thinking about you…” the smug smirk that then bloomed on his face caused you to instantly chuckle with regret, “oh, that came out sounding a lot more dirty than I intended it to,” the meaning behind your words had been dirty, but he didn’t have to revel in it. Curling his arm around you, his laughter mixed and mingled with your own as you soon exhaled, “man, I should probably head back to bed soon, try and give sleep another chance. I just–, urgh,” you let out an adorable groan and buried your face in his broad shoulder, “I don’t wanna leave now that you’re here.”

“I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want,” he suggested, his tone staying on the lighter side as to not build up any pressure, “you’re welcome to come sleep in my bed if you want to.”

“O-oh,” your gaze fluttered up to flicker across his face, “alright, sure.” 

Stepping inside and descending the creaky staircase, the living room was lit up in bright fluorescent shades of lavender by the huge billboard directly outside. Letting the blanket around you drop to the coffee table, you eyed Matt’s dark bedroom before his hand found yours. 

“What side do you prefer to sleep on?” you asked as you neared the dusty grey linens adorning his bed. 

“I’m fine with either,” his fingers gently brushed across your knuckles before you let go of him. 

“Alright,” you slipped in under the silky covers on the side of the bed nearest to you. As he crawled in on the other side, you drew in a sharp breath, “well,” tugging your knees up further towards your chest, you didn’t dare to twist and look at him even though you wished for so much more than a glimpse, “goodnight, Matt.”

His knuckles briefly found your back, caressing it just for a second before he uttered, “night.”

You had never been further from slumber than you were lying there in Matt’s bed. Just the knowledge of him resting right behind you had you hyper-aware of everything. Lying as still as a rock…your ragged breathing… your wild pulse… but mostly the throbbing between your thighs…

Turning slowly to lie on your back, your hand came down to rest on the mattress but landed instead on Matt’s gently closed fist. Instinctively, you yanked it back, recoiled from his warmth just a second before you carefully let your fingers shyly slide across the covers to find him again. The coy dance beneath the duvet was playful till his digits unravelled and welcomed yours. 

“…Matt?” your voice came out no louder than a whisper. 

“Yeah?” 

Glancing over at his visage in the darkness, you asked, “are you very tired?” 

With a gentle smile blooming on his lip, a soft shake tilted his head from side to side against the pillow, “no.”

Curling closer, his arms tangled around you in an instant. When your lips brushed against each other at first, for a while it was just this sweet and slow midnight kiss, nothing more, nothing less. But when you nuzzled in nearer, the simple peck grew into something much more heated. 

Your leg curled up over his hip, gliding it lavishly against him as his tongue slid across your own. His strong arms felt so incredible around you, but you wanted more, you needed more. 

On an exhale, he rolled onto his back, but you weren’t quite sure if he had dragged you with him or if you had clung to him, perhaps a mixture of both. All you knew was that now you were sprawled out on top of him, completely melted against his chest as his lips were still locked with yours.

When you adjusted yourself slightly and shifted down further, your hips instinctively rolled enticingly as you settled atop of his growing hardness, already straining against his sweatpants and desperate to be hugged by your warmth. He let out a low groan as his wide palms slid down the length of your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

Parting briefly, you breathed, “Matt?”

“Hm?” he hummed as his lips nipped at your jaw. 

“You sure you’re not tired?” your eyes threatened to flutter shut. 

“I’m sure,” his hands slid back up to your waist as he let his kisses fade.

Blinking down at him in the darkness, you felt as if your heart could burst out of your chest at any moment, “do you wanna, maybe–, uhm… you know…”

“Do you want to?” his thumb soothingly circled your side and your hips unintentionally rolled once more. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

Your confirmation caused a smile to tug at his lips as he uttered, “okay.”

“Can I–…” your teeth briefly caught your bottom lip, “can I take your shirt off?”

A warm chuckle rumbled within his chest as he nodded lightly. Sitting up, your frame followed along as you didn’t shift to get out of his lap. As your fingers dug into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, he let you pull it off of him yourself. 

You couldn’t make out too many of the fine details that decorated his physic, but perhaps that was a good thing, perhaps that’d make it easier. You could always study every millimetre of him later. Right now, the dim vision of him the night granted you was more than enough to turn you into a puddle. 

Running your hands over his bare skin, they only stayed a moment before straying away from the warmth to yank your own top off. 

One of his hands swiftly soared up and gently caught one of your boobs. A shuttering moan flew from your lips, inadvertently letting Matt know that his intuitive move wasn’t unwelcome, allowing his assurance to grow as he permitted his caresses to move more freely. 

Seizing your lips as he softly squeezed your peak, his kisses then began to migrate and dance down the column of your neck till they reached your tits, his palm cupping one closer to his attentive mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered as his lips enclosed around one of your pebbly nipples, his tongue swirling over it before he nipped, causing your core to clench around nothing. 

You couldn’t help but stuff a hand into your pyjama pants and offer yourself an ounce of relief. 

Gliding his touch down to your bottom, his fingers fleetingly dug into your ass before they slid up to your hips, hooking his digits in the fabric. And with his face still buried in your tits, littering the soft skin with hickeys, Matt slightly tugged at your waistband, “do you want these off?”

Your answer came out sounding breathy, “yes,” before you stopped playing with yourself as he then helped pull both your pants and the soaked underwear beneath them off. 

As you settled back down into his lap, he pulled you in and seized your lips. Fingers finding your glistening folds once more, his soon joined yours, digits briefly weaving before your own touch began to falter and you let him take over entirely. 

Your head tilted back when he eased a finger inside of your creamy cunt, your juices swiftly coated his digit and dripped down his hand as he caressed you at an overwhelmingly slow pace. His touch made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud and you were already so far gone that when he filled you up with another finger, dreamily giving your eager pussy just a little bit more, you tumbled over the edge. 

Eyes only half open as you watched him curve down to plant soft kisses all along your ribs, both of his solid arms wrapped around you and keeping you up as you panted, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “you wanna keep going?”

“Please,” your fingers then tried to push down the remainder of his clothing, “I wanna feel you,” he swiftly aided your efforts and slipped his dark sweatpants off, “I wanna feel all of you.”

Reaching a long arm over into the nightstand’s drawer, Matt fished out a little foil packet. Your foreheads joined and pressed up against one another as he rolled the latex on. 

His fingers grasped onto the base of his girth, silkily stroking himself as you supported your wobbly balance on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself as you raised your hips further up. Reaching a hand down, your touch met his as he teased his tip against your puff, nudging at your swollen clit before parting your petals in a lush motion. Your palm briefly floated up to your mouth and collected a dollop of saliva before you lowered it back down, only taking a second to glisten his throbbing cock up with it before you dragged him down towards your entrance. 

“Oh my god…” you moaned shakily as you slowly began to sink down upon him, shallowly at first as his arm tightened around your waist to support you, “fuck…” 

Trailing his other palm up your quivering thigh, he groaned, “that’s it, take your time,” before his fingers settled where you united, “fuck, you’re doing so good,” he rolled your clit slowly under his calluses, your nectar dripping down his length as you gradually slid further down.

When his dick eventually settled so deep within you that you thought the night sky would appear on the ceiling of his bedroom, you pressed a breathless kiss to his lips. 

As you gave his shoulders a slight push, his frame rested back down against the mattress and you followed suit. Tits smooshed down against his chest, his fingers had disappeared from your puffy pearl as you just stayed there a moment, frozen as you took in the staggering sensation of what he felt like buried so deep inside of you that it made you lightheaded.

“This,” you uttered thickly, “this is what I thought about earlier,” your laboured breaths fanned across his face, “and you wanna know what?”

“What?” his answer flowed from him swiftly.

A smile bloomed on your lips as your hips began to roll, “my imagination couldn’t even come close to how amazing you feel.”

As you found a gentle pace, a low moan escaped Matt’s lips as the details of his cock dragged against your silky walls, “christ, sweetheart,” he couldn’t help but buck up into you, an instinct that earned him a lewd whimper of approval.

Keeping up his own efforts, you briefly stole a sloppy peck from him before your spine straightened back up and you established a new and intoxicating rhythm. 

“Fuck, that’s it, there you go,” he grunted as you rode him, the majority of his length never strayed from the warmth of your pussy as you electrically rolled and rocked atop of him, “atta girl,” his fingers dug into your hips, “god, you feel so good, fucking perfect.”

As your fingers lowered to find your clit, the bouncing pace you’d found slowly began to waver as you felt yourself begin to near the end once more. Your form then collapsed back down against his as your hips tried and failed to keep up the same euphoric pattern you’d found before. 

But as soon as Matt’s hips thrust beneath you, effortlessly hitting a molten spot deep within you that you’d barely managed before on your own, all of your brief worries melted away. 

“Matt-,” your face smooshed against his chest as you panted, “h-holy shit!”

Holding your hips steady, he ravenously bucked up into you, “please keep making those noises for me, sweetheart,” his low growl harmonised with the lewd melody of his desperate efforts, “you sound so fucking good.”

As you felt your pussy clamper around him so hard it nearly halted his movements completely, your fingers sought out your nipples in a harsh pinch, trembling above him and crying out as you came undone. 

With how tight your cunt clenched down around his throbbing girth, even if Matt didn’t wish for the marvellous moment to end just yet, perhaps fantasise about dragging it out till the sun rose, he couldn't help it as your pussy milked him so perfectly of all of his worth and he joined you in the boneless tangle of satisfaction. 

Sluggishly, you clung to him, utterly melted atop of his frame even as he carefully pulled out and nimbly snaked an arm between your limp forms to peel off the spent condom and toss it. 

His chest rose and fell with every deep breath beneath your head as he eventually asked, “how do you feel?” 

Letting yourself ponder a second and uncover the answer through your haze, you only found yourself thawing further down against him as you let your eyes flutter shut and uttered, “safe.”

Rain hammered against the windows as you rushed out of the door. The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, but your day had already begun. 

As you locked your front door with a dull click, a worrying thud halted your feet from scurrying along. 

Whirling your head around, you glanced to the source of the concerning crash, at your neighbour’s door, before slowly walking up and letting your fist softly collide with it. There never came an answer, not even when you tried again, that time more forcefully.

Unable to shake that unsettling concern off of you, your feet carried you up to the roof and the apartment’s emergency exit. As your fingers enclosed around the cold knob, you momentarily snapped yourself out of your unease.  

Maybe something wasn’t wrong. Maybe Matt hadn’t hurt himself and desperately needed help. Maybe, even though your ears had interpreted the sound as something troublesome, it could have just been that he wasn’t alone, that perhaps you weren’t the only girl he let into his bed, perhaps one more prone to making a ruckus. 

Either way, it wasn’t under any circumstances appropriate for you to not only invade his privacy, but literally break into his home, yet you still found your fingers slowly twisting the door handle. 

Just one peek. If he didn’t need someone to call for an ambulance, then you’d slip right back out, even if whatever the true cause was broke your heart. 

You only mustered two steps down the stairs before you spotted a surprising, yet familiar masked man sprawled out on the living room floor, unconscious and bleeding.

You scarcely breathed as you slowly neared him. Even in the low pre-dawn light, you were able to make out the slashes that tore up parts of his black suit. Carefully, you kneeled down beside him as your eyes scanned over his wounded frame. 

You had to do something. The vigilante had saved your life, so the very least you could do was repay him the favour. 

Spotting a trickle of crimson drip down from beneath his black mask, streaking down across his gruff jaw, with a trembling hand you pulled the mask further up to get a better look at how grave the injury was, only for you to discover who was hiding behind the disguise.

“…Matt?”

Settled on the couch and with a dark blanket draped over him, only covering some of the scars the darkness hadn’t let you spot previously, Matt stirred awake. 

From one of the armchairs, you hugged your knees closer to your chest as you uttered, “hi,” your voice came out sounding small and fragile.

Freezing up, Matt’s head tilted toward you, “Y/n?” he cautiously spoke, “what–… when did you get here?”

“A few minutes before Foggy did,” his friend had shown up, concerned out of his mind when Matt hadn’t answered his phone after recklessly throwing himself into a stupidly dangerous plan. He’d stayed a while, for as long as he could till he eventually had to leave, “I heard a noise, thought something was wrong and you needed help…”

“You–… you know…” he stated, and you just let your crushing silence confirm it, “…did you patch me up?” 

“No, that was a friend of yours that Foggy called–, Claire I think, but that was a while ago. You were out cold for a really long time,” you averted your gaze and stared down at your hands, letting the silence momentarily consume the space before you hesitantly opened your mouth once more, “…how do you–… Foggy tried to explain to some extent, but how do you–, how do you do it?” 

“It’s complicated,” he said slowly, letting out a hushed groan as he carefully pushed himself up to a seated position. 

“Complicated, how?” 

A low exhale flowed from his lips before he uttered, “…I know that yesterday you worked with strawberries. You didn’t eat any, but I can still smell them beneath your fingernails from when you cut them up… I know you’re hungry right now and the only thing you’ve eaten since breakfast was an apple a bit ago. I can still taste it off your lips… and I know that me telling you all of that is making you uncomfortable… because I can hear your heartbeat… but I’m not scaring you.”

Blinking back at him, you saw your chest rise and fall rapidly in your periphery, “wow… I mean, Foggy did say that your senses were sharp, but that–… I can’t fucking believe it…”

Bowing his head lightly, his jaw clenched, “you have every right to be angry–”

“Angry?” you repeated, your eyes growing wide, “Matt… it’s you. It was you…” tears began to blur up your vision, “did you–… did you know who I was when I moved in here or was that first when I told you about that night?”

Staying quiet a moment, he eventually nodded, “yeah. I knew… I am so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Matt,” rising from the chair, at an instant, you’d crossed to his side and sat down on the couch beside him, “you helped me, you saved me. That was you. You’re–…” hands drifting up to carefully cup his scruffy cheeks, you uttered, “you’re him.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort #marvel smut #matt murdock fluff

[omgrachwrites]

The Beginning of Something - Carmy Berzatto

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Summary: A chance encounter with your neighbour changes everything.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, probs ooc Carmy (I've only seen season one)

A/N: I've fallen in love with someone else oops. I'm thinking about turning this into a lil mini series. I hope you guys enjoy, please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

The smell of burning made you swear beneath your breath as you put your glass of wine on the coffee table and you rushed into the kitchen. You groaned as you realised your dinner was definitely burning. With a sigh, you pulled open the oven, coughing as thick smoke billowed out and with a tea towel you pull out the dish.

If burning your food wasn’t enough, it also set off the smoke alarm. You winced at the high pitched noise and quickly waved the tea towel at the smoke alarm, trying to get the smoke away. When that didn’t work you opened the door to your apartment and willed the noise to stop. Thankfully, you were so high up in the building that there was only one other apartment on this floor and the owner worked all the time.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You heard a voice shout over the noise and you looked up to see a man lingering in the doorway to your apartment. You recognised the curly hair straight away, it was your neighbour, the one that worked all the time. You didn’t even realise you were crying until you wiped your eyes.

“I can’t get the alarm off.”

“Mind if I try?” he asked and you nodded with a watery smile as you let him into the apartment.

He walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t that much taller than you but he had longer arms and within minutes he managed to get the noise to stop.

You breathed out in relief, “thank you so much, I’m sorry for disturbing you,” you bite your lip, thinking he’d helped you because the sound was pissing him off.

“Oh, no, no! I don’t particularly mind but I was walkin’ past and you looked upset so,” he trailed off shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’m Carmy.”

You smiled, you knew who he was, he owned the restaurant a couple of blocks away, “Y/N,” you offered.

He nodded, a pretty flush spreading out across his cheeks as he looked over to where your dinner lay burnt and ruined. You suddenly remember that he’s a world renowned chef so you quickly throw it in the trash.

Though it was too late, he’d already seen it, so you decided to make a joke, “it was supposed to be Chicken en Papillote,” you laugh.

An indulgent smile spread across his lips, “well, it’s not an easy dish,” you knew he was humouring you so you rolled your eyes and looked at him. He laughed somewhat nervously, “okay, it’s a really easy dish. Look, I always make too much for dinner, y’know I um I could drop something off for you?” the flush on his cheeks was back.

“Oh no, really that’s okay!” you smiled, he was very sweet.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you nodded, “thanks for your help, Carmy.”

He nodded with a smile, “no worries, I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he waved as he walked out of the apartment.

As it turned out, you were far too broke to order out so you settled on a grilled cheese. It was the only meal you could make without nearly burning the apartment down.

After dinner, you settled on the couch with a glass of wine to watch some trash TV, a couple of hours passed before there was a knock on your door. Concealing a groan, you get off the couch and pad across to the door, pulling it open. You were surprised by who was on the other side.

“Carmy? What are you doing here?”

He held up a dish wrapped in foil, “I er, I know you said that you didn’t want anything and that you were okay but I thought I’d bring some over anyway. You like pasta right?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I like pasta, thanks Carmy,” you beamed as you took the dish from him, he’d saved you twice in one night.

He nodded as he pushed a hand through his curls, “I’ll see you around, I mean it this time,” he chuckled and you shot him a wave as you closed the door.

Over the following couple of weeks, you and Carmy were hanging out regularly, only ever in bars, you’d never been inside his apartment. However, that was all going to change because tonight he’d invited you to his apartment for dinner and a movie.

You met him at the apartment he was completely revamping, you waved at Richie as he let you in, “hey, Y/N. Whatcha doin’ here?” he asked as he pulled you into a one armed hug.

“I’m meeting Carmy, we’re ordering pizza.”

Before Richie could smirk and say something lewd, you heard Carmy scoff and he walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, “ordering pizza? Nah, we’re not doin’ that shit, we’re making it.”

You groaned, the embarrassing memories of when you and Carmy first met ran through your head, “I don’t wanna make pizza.”

His lips quirked up into a smirk, “my apartment, my rules,” he shrugged on his jacket and you scowled as you followed him out of the door.

“Look, Carmy! Mine looks deformed compared to yours,” you complained as you pointed to his perfect circular pizza base, yours didn’t look anything like his.

Carmy burst out laughing as he flung a towel over his shoulder, failing to conceal his laughter when you glared at him and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “it’s okay! We can fix it; can I show you how?”

When you nodded, he took your hands in his, making you both flush as he guided you to spread out the dough and as you worked together, you quickly had something you could work with. You were spreading the tomato base that Carmy made onto the uncooked dough when he asked you something that made you pause.

“Why were you so bothered over the pizza not looking perfect?” he laughed as he took a sip of his beer and you could tell he wasn’t teasing you, he actually wanted to know.

You sighed, “I don’t know, I just get embarrassed I guess, I mean you’re such a good chef but I would manage to burn water.”

Carmy smiled as he pushed his curls out of his eyes, “I’ve been doing it all my life, Y/N. Cooking isn’t easy, whoever says it is, is full of shit,” he commented, making you giggle as you put the toppings on your pizza and Carmy slid them into the oven, “don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled, “thanks, Carmy.”

He nodded, “you have some flour on your cheek,” he laughed as he wiped it off, his blue eyes darting to your lips. You knew he wanted to kiss you but when he looked away quickly with a flush on his cheeks you knew he was far too shy.

You watched Carmy’s face as he checked on the pizza’s every now and then, the happiness on his face wasn’t hard to place. You knew he was happy he finally had someone to share this with. Someone who knew fuck all about that world.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy x you #the bear

[ellabsweet]

[*ੈ✩] 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐎 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: you believe your girlfriend ellie has cheated on you and return home only to fall into tears when suddenly your dad’s best friend decides to cheer you up

pairing: dbf!abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

warning: problematic age gap (reader is 20 abby is in her mid 30s), mentions of cheating and the act thereof, sex so minors and men do not interact, somewhat angsty and perhaps a multiple part series if you guys want it!

Tears welled up in your eyes as you attempted to hold back sobs, hands gripping the steering wheel with all of its strength as though the mere thought of letting go would’ve made you shatter onto the ground, collapse. You bit down hard on your lips, a failed attempt to silence yourself and your phone still occasionally lit up with notifications from Ellie you’ve stopped yourself from reading a while ago.

Els <3: Babe please talk to me. You know there is nothing going on, please. Let me explain it, you’re the only one. You’re my girl.

Once the missed calls and texts died down in defeat you could finally gather your thoughts in a sigh, hands rubbing your eyes with an agression unneeded to dry tears, and it suddenly dawned on you the feeling of a stare piercing through your side that your brain has been ignoring the past couple minutes, a curse escaping your lips as you saw the flipped light of your neighbour who calmly approached the car with a concerned expression.

Overprotection was a word so familiar to you it must’ve attached itself to your family tree, and Abby Anderson was its version personified, you had moved out and even then the furthest you could’ve gotten from your parents was straight next door to your dad’s best friend. She would be sure to tell them about this and your fate would remain to be scolded and ostracised for not being able to care of yourself, alone at night crying in a driveway like the foolish child they had always claimed you to be, over a girl nevertheless. You wanted to disappear, melt into the leather seats and escape her gaze, though it was far too late, the blonde was fast knocking on your window.

“Hey petal, you okay?” She asked as you rolled down the glass, hiding a sniff on your sweater’s sleeve, swallowing tears.

“Hi Ms.Anderson”

“It’s just Abby, sweetheart” She corrects you nonchalantly before slowly opening the car door and slipping into the seat next to you “It’s almost two in the morning, why are you out here crying? Do you need me to call your dad-“

“No! God, no! Please it’s just, just stupid. I saw my girlfriend kissing someone else. Didn’t want to go into the house and see pictures of her spread around my room yet”

“That’s not stupid. Heartbreak is always awful, especially when you’re young, I’m so sorry” She says, and with the kindness you dissolve into your crying once again, a mess of sobs. It takes Abby a moment, but it still happens far too quick, her arms suddenly wrapped around your shaking body drawing circles over your back as to calm you down, she’s hushing you and placing your hair behind your ears and you are deeply embarrassed but so far gone to stop “Shhh, petal, look at me”

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much more than that” Her voice is low, steady, there is something in it that tastes like yearning at the tip of your tongue and all your attempts to brush it off as incoherent dissipated under her intense gaze, staring at you quizzically in a silence so pure it left only heavy breathing to echo and you were scared at your close faces she’d be able to hear your heartbeat, understand what you yourself were struggling to in that moment when her eyes dropped from yours onto your lips.

“Ms.Anderson…” You breathed out hesitantly

“It’s Abby” She corrects you once again until her thumb finds its way to your cheek, gripping your face in her palm as though debating something internally while you melt into her strong touch, finding a stability within her hold that you had been craving for a long while now, too flustered in your thoughts to fully consider what it means when she took that same finger and brushed it against your lips toying with its plump softness into opening lightly for her, finger coming into your mouth to be wet by your tongue flipping around it in a suction movement. The blue in Abby’s eyes darken.

She leans forward once your eyes trace up doe looking at her, she removes her finger with a pop to press your lips together and there is an unexpected softness within the hunger, she takes her time exploring the insides of your mouth gripping your chin to steady in place. There is still time to stop, she thinks to herself, but then her grip lowers to your throat in a light chokehold and the moans you kept release inside your kiss and its muffled sound is enough to drive her past sensibility and even insanity.

“Let me show you how a real woman takes care of you, please” She’s begging and you’re blushing and nodding furiously, a whimper stuck to your throat which is not enough for her “Use your words, petal”

“Y-yes, please” You stutter out not missing the smirk growing on her face, Abby is quick to trail kisses down your neck so wet it distracts you from her hands by the clasp of your bra letting it fall onto the car’s floor, she lifts your shirt up in one swift movement and suddenly her mouth is by your breasts, hovering over your nipples until her warm breath sent them into goosebumps. You whimper impatient and she chuckles taking one into her hand and the other into her mouth, tracing circles over your sensitive area until you’re panting, knees pressing together in anticipation for her tongue elsewhere.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” Abby whispers into your skin before moving onto the neglected breast for its own sucking “I bet your little girlfriend didn’t even know what to do with you”

Your eyes flash sadness amongst the arousal and Abby takes none of it, hands quickly unbuttoning the pants you wore and forcing them down your thighs before pressing a slap against them that shakes your body and clears your mind “Gonna make you feel good, yeah? Forget all about her”

She has her fingers down your underwear in a second, muttering curses under her breath at the wetness that completely enveloped her hand, she watches you squirm under her from the lightest of pressure and proceeds to push one finger inside, circling motions hitting your clit continuously, you are a mess of moans when her free hand grabs at your waist and straightens you forwards into riding her hand, second finger added.

“Such a good girl fucking herself on my fingers, such a fucking good girl” She mutters watching you pick up your pace, she’s kissing on your exposed skin and digging her nails across your back, uses her strenght to carry you onto her lap which only digs her fingers deeper inside you, a scream lodged in your throat from the overstimulation “Does she get you all worked up and wet like this, does she even know how to treat this pretty little pussy?” She slaps it with the question and your answer gets lost midway out.

“Abby, I’m gonna-“

“No you’re not, gotta taste you first, pretty girl” Just like that she flips you over, head where you once sat on the driver’s seat and legs up in the air, her mouth quickly latches onto your dripping cunt and it practically slurps on it.

Cat: She didn’t kiss me back. Didn’t want to need to text you this shit but Ellie’s crying and I didn’t want this to happen, I just thought she liked me. Guess she’s too into you. I don’t get it either.

Els<3: I’m kcmhng ovrr to ur hojse so we can talkkd okay pls wait fofr me i loeve you sos much baby

#dbf!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #the last of us fanfiction #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellabs x reader

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐙𝐘 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: imagine you go for dinner at your neighbours house and you’re told you’re getting married? you better get cozy for this one!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings for this chapter: none

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: hey y’all…. i told you guys i don’t have a planned schedule for this series and i’m really starting to think i should 😭. i hope you guys enjoy this and lemme know if you wanna be tagged 🤭

masterlist

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"Renaissance yachtin' in capri!" Nadia sang as she entered the driveway of the Hamiltons only a week after the first dinner. Knowing her mother's dramatics, Thembi had once again requested her presence at the home except she had to drive straight to the Hamiltons house. Finding the situation weird but not giving it a second thought, she parked next to the all black G63, one of her many dream cars and one she hadn't seen the last time she was here. Thinking it was just a simple visit (and Thembi hadn't given her a chance to dress up after the phone call), Nadia fixed the Nike tee and adjusted the biker shorts she had worn throughout her chill Saturday morning.

Knocking on the wooden door felt weird, given that she was welcomed into the house before but she felt like something quite suspicious was going on but she couldn't even figure it out. Rubbing her eye whilst waiting for someone to answer the door, she wrote a few reminders on her phone to not forget to complete the work she had to take home from the previous day.

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Nadia had recognised the voice to be Nicola, adding a little laugh after her sentence. "I woke up late so this is valid." Nadia replied, giving a smile as she entered the house with Nicola making room for her to walk in. After the first dinner, the two women had kept in touch because of the growing friendship and Willow, who would send a voice message every day to say hi. But this time, Nadia couldn't hear the kids laughing or playing around the house.

Oh, this was serious.

"Is that Nadia, darling?" Linda's voice chimed through the entrance hallway leading to the living room. "Hello Mrs Hamilton." The young woman greeted, giving Linda a side eye as she held a glass of water in her hand. "Please Nadia, rather call me Linda. Do come through, my dear!"

"We're out by the patio, need the bathroom before we start?" Nicola asked, making Nadia way more confused the more footsteps she took. "Start with what?" She trailed off, seeing Nicola just smile and head into the direction of the patio with her following. This was officially starting to get weird but Nadia chose to push her thoughts aside for this lunch.

"Oh she's here! How was the drive, Nads?" Her mom spoke up as soon as Nadia's foot hit the wooden floor of the large patio. Different types of charcuterie boards were placed with juices and waters to accommodate everyone but the atmosphere seemed so different from the dinner last week, it rather felt like a meeting.

"Helloooo." Nadia dragged out the greeting as she eventually found an empty seat, once again, next to Lewis. The man was genuinely a sight to see as the sun shined on him as he sat comfortably on the patio bench chair. Wearing a black NY cap, a graphic tee once again with a pair of jeans this time and his jewellery on display, Lewis smiled up at her with a toothy grin.

After personally greeting everyone around the table and answering their fast questions, she plopped down onto the chair with a few of her bracelets clanging together. The familiar scents of each other from the last time they met fused together as they both studied each other once again.

Nadia's tattoos were finally on display, each dainty artwork fluttered around her skin with a few being inked in red. The most noticeable thing being her hair as she changed the colour to black and it reached past her back. The makeup was very simple and she only carried her phone and lipgloss in her hand as she placed the overly cracked device onto the table right next to Lewis'. When she smiled, he noticed a small gem on one of her front teeth and he definitely admired her style, not one he would regularly picture on a high school teacher.

"You know Nadia, we were just talking about how odd it would be to suddenly become famous within a matter of hours." Linda started, grabbing the large jug of grape juice to give the girl a glass. Helping the older woman, Nadia lifted herself off the chair and gave Lewis a look, non verbally asking if it was true and his eyebrows furrowed whilst pursing his lip upwards, making Nadia smile a little.

"Really? In what aspects?" She sat back down, lifting the glass to her gloss covered lips and only taking little sips. "Oh just how you'd maybe have to close off social media for a while and suddenly having people around you to help with everything." Linda said, taking her glass of water and eyeing Nadia's mom after her sentence. Tilting her head in confusion, she made sure to sit comfortably as this was definitely an interesting conversation.

"I never really thought about it like that actually. The way teams assemble within a matter of hours is something else but I always hear my students say that they're one hundred percent ready for fame." Nadia watched the two older women constantly look at each other with the older men being suspiciously quiet. "Oh and don't even get me started on the scandals you're put through." Nicola submerged from the house, holding a fresh pizza on a wooden board with an extra plate.

"Lewis, you'd know a thing or two about these things right?" Nicola smirked as she placed the plate on the opposite side of the table. Snapping her head towards Lewis, he sighed then nodded before straightening up his posture as it was before. Now Nadia was incredibly confused. Although she spent at least two hours in conversation with Lewis, she never really found out what exactly he does for a living even though he knew what she did as she went on a whole rant about her day with the teenagers. The way he had carried himself whilst speaking with everyone and just how he listened made it seem like he could be a businessman of some sort that clearly made his money and he made it well as he wore jewellery pieces that she could only dream of seeing.

A beat of silence passed and a knock on the door was heard. "Oh, that must be Gerald." Anthony got up in quite a hurry, with the table falling into conversation to detour the previous topic. After the man was welcomed onto the patio, he placed his small briefcase next to him on the chair with Nadia's suspicions growing more and more.

But what if he was really just there for lunch?

The word 'deactivate' kept being thrown around between Nicola, Thembi and Linda for several minutes, snapping Nadia and Lewis out of their conversation on her tattoos. "Nads, come here really quickly and bring your phone." Her mom ordered as the young girl walked to their side of the table. Standing over all three women, she held her phone in front of her mom's face. "How do you deactivate your Instagram? Nicola here made one for me but i don't want it anymore." Thembi asked, once again eyeing Linda.

Showing the directions on her own phone, Nadia then became distracted by her stepdad's question. "Nads, do you know when Rea's flight lands? Will you be okay to go?" He asked, slightly jumping at something. "Yes, I'll be fine. Her flight lands at like two in the morning so after here I'll just finish up some work then go to the airport early." Nadia responded, feeling her hand move a little as she spoke to James.

Thembi tapped her daughter's hand as Nadia focused back on her phone. Seeing her instagram page now logged out, she groaned at the thought of her completely forgetting her password to it. Plopping back into her seat defeated, Lewis eyed her then her phone that she placed on the table. "You good?" He asked, turning his body to look at her. "I think I  accidentally logged myself out of insta and i forgot where i wrote down the password." Nadia frowned a little as she clasped her hands together. Even though he didn't want to seem like he was smiling at her misery but the little pout she had on her face was adorable and obviously he wasn't going to admit that anytime soon.

"Okay, I cannot do this anymore." Anthony announced out as he sighed which caught everyone's attention. "Dad, what's going on?" Lewis asked worried, he had noticed his father was quiet most of the time but he brushed it off knowing that his father was usually like this.

"Son, listen. I know what I'm about to say will sound insane but I need you to listen very carefully. Along with you too, Nadia." Anthony stated. Linda then stood next to her husband in terror. "Wait, Anthony. Are you sure you want to do this right now?" She muttered.

And now the uneasy feeling came right back.

"Lewis, you know I care for you deeply however these past few weeks have been tough for you... and pr." His dad started off, earning a sigh from Lewis and a pinch on the bridge of his nose. Seeing Lewis stress like this was weird for Nadia and what exactly did his father mean by PR? Anyone could tell that he wanted to say something but chose to keep quiet.

Now sitting up properly, Nadia was intrigued with the entire situation and wondered how famous Lewis actually was.

"Linda and I, along with Nadia's parents and Nicola have decided that we wanted to help you to clean up your image a little more even though you are a private person. And for that, we've come up with the concept of a fake marriage between you and Nadia." Anthony concluded and took his seat.

It was as if the blood from Nadia completely left her face after that very last sentence however her face stayed extremely neutral. Her face rather snapped towards her parents who were avoiding eye contact with her.

The silence was so loud, the birds chirping ever so slightly as if they were part of the plan as well. Looking at everyone's face, anyone could tell that this had probably been discussed many times before. "What?" Nadia being the first one to say something, spoke in a monotone voice.

"Look we wanted to see how you two would get along when you first met and it had seemed to work very well. We're only really looking out for you, Lewis. These rumours have kinda taken a toll on you." Nicola voiced, seeing that their faces were stoic yet burning daggers into everyone's skulls.

Finally looking at each other, Lewis and Nadia's eyes met with no source of attraction to each other in that present moment. "This is crazy." Lewis muttered to himself as he shook his head whilst looking down at his shoes.

"Okay." Nadia said, crossing her arms and looked at her mom directly. "Okay?" Lewis grumbled with slightly narrowed eyes to the girl. "Yeah. Clearly this is important and stuff so I'll do it." Nadia responded with a calm facade but she was truly screaming on the inside, her leg shaking underneath the table. Shocked as he was at her nonchalant response to the situation, he slumped back and chose to not speak up in front of guests. Lewis wasn't frustrated in the slightest but he was just extremely confused.

"What about the details?" Lewis sighed, feeling through his beard and accepting his fate.

"Wait, you're actually doing this?" Thembi expressed. If anything, Thembi felt embarrassed to even coming up with this suggestion thinking that it was going to help the driver and his many social problems. "Ma, please tell us the details before we rethink doing this for you guys." Nadia deadpanned, grabbing a grape from one of the charcuterie boards displayed.

"Well. You would have to tell the world that you've been married for at least a year or two and I've already told your PR team, Lewis, to get everything ready before you announce. For now, you're only allowed to tell your closest friends and coworkers about this so that it doesn't seem suspicious that your friends didn't know of your marriage." Nicola started.

"Nadia, because you're now affiliated with Lewis, security and a team will have to assembled to be at your beck and call. Marie from Lewis' team will come over to help you choose potential candidates for your everyday team. Now the difficult part. You two have to be married legally because you know how people get, Lewis. They'll want evidence. And that's Gerald is here for." She concluded, gesturing to the guest to open his briefcase but god, did he feel awkward.

"Uh, hello. Here's the marriage certificate you two are meant to sign for the court to recognise it as an actual marriage." The poor man was red in the face as he shakily placed the certificate between Nadia and Lewis with a pen. With her freshly manicured hand, the girl picked the pen and signed underneath her name officially as a Mrs. She took a quick glance at Lewis' name and it seemed so familiar but the thing that intrigued her the most was the 'Sir' before anything.

Lewis had a good look at Nadia's side profile as he watched her sign the official papers. She didn't seem bothered with anything that was said, it was as if everything just defeated her and she just accepted it. If there's one thing he noticed was that it looked like she didn't have a clue about who he was at all and that was so fascinating to him.

She handed the pen to him, their hands touching a little with the warmest touch as they made eye contact. They both couldn't read each other's eyes, only dark brown pupils staring into each other's souls. Lewis then also signed with a bit of hesitation, the reality falling on him as he dragged the pen to the very last of his signature.

"Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Hamilton." Gerald broke the silence as he uttered his words. He quickly packed his briefcase and walked away from the table with a small wave to everyone to escape from the awkwardness of the lunch table.

"You only have to do this for a year or so then you can either divorce publicly or privately. And the living situation has to be changed. Nadia, you will have to be almost everywhere with Lewis now that you've signed that certificate so I am not sure how you will handle this at your workplace. Do you have an active passport?" Anthony ended with his question to which the quiet girl just nodded.

"Wait, where am I going to live?" Nadia asked, eventually snapping out of the quiet demeanour she had. "Well you'll have to speak to your husband about that." Linda smiled at the two, the smile slowly falling when seeing their deadpanned faces.

Sighing out for the final time, Lewis sighed and lightly tapped Nadia on the arm signaling for her attention. He held his car keys in his hand and she knew that she had to go because being there any longer would've suffocated her. The newly married couple simultaneously stood up and gathered their belongings, making everyone's faces grow into confusion.

"Where are you guys going?" Thembi asked, standing up as well with a worried expression. All Lewis did was shrug as he fixed his shirt and move out of the way so that Nadia could walk before him. "Bye everyone! Your charcuterie boards looked amazing by the way, Linda." It was as if someone completely different had greeted the group goodbye because her mood changed in a matter of seconds as if nothing happened.

"What the hell did we just do?" Nicola asked, rubbing her forehead as she watched the two walk away and out of the house.

-

"You've arrived at your destination." The automated voice rang through the large car as it approached a large black gate behind an elegant building.

The drive to the unknown destination was not as quiet as they thought it would be. When entering the car, all Nadia could do was to laugh as soon as Lewis entered the car so much so that a few tears of laughter came out. It was a sound that he appreciated to hear and he joined her in her laughter. They couldn't believe that they even went through that, mainly laughing at the fact they went into the house for lunch and left as a married couple.

It was quite the lengthy drive but it seemed much quicker as they spent the time speaking about what happened at lunch yet they never got to the topic of his job and also because they decided to play music to get rid of the negative mood they both had.

“I thought you were going to kidnap for a second. I still do.” Nadia joked as he playfully rolled his eyes at her. “Where are we even?” She looked out of the window to see the back of the large building, eventually spotting a small yet visible sign on the wall reading ‘Harrods VIP parking’.

Letting the smallest gasp escape her mouth, she gazed at Lewis once again who was typing on his phone and wondered what he did for a living for him to be able to decide to park his car here. The rumours from this department store were unbelievable so to see them bloom in real life felt surreal to Nadia.

Lewis definitely saw Nadia to be a good friend to him and could keep her around his circle and vice versa. It was a sign that a friendship was brewing between each other and they’re somewhat grateful for that although it happened so quickly.

“Seriously bruv, where are you taking me? I have to get home to watch catfish.” She asked, flicking her hair back and he laughed once more. “Bruv?” He said in between his giggles. “Okay my pookie wookie buddy bear, where are you taking me?” She said, fluttering her eyelashes at him which made him burst into so much more laughter.

“Since you want to know so badly, we’re going to Cartier to get our wedding rings.” He smiled a toothy grin, turning off the ignition of the car while looking at her stunned expression.

“…what?”

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @goldsainz

dividers by: @cafekitsune

faceclaim for nadia: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pictures from pinterest and ig!

#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #lewis hamilton #formula one x black reader #x black fem reader #f1 x reader #x black reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x oc #f1 x black!reader #x black oc #lewis hamilton imagine

[fallingintoyourlilaceyes]

New years eve party (modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader, side Alysmond)

synopsis: Every year you and your friend throw a new years eve party for all the singles in your building. When you first invite the new neighbour he declines, only a year later it seems like everything has changed.

warnings: Alys being a bad girlfriend, alcohol, self induldent fluff at the end, afab reader

word count: 2.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: The year is about to end so happy new year to everyone!

The first time Aemond and you meet, he just moved into the apartment complex, two floors beneath you and your flat mate and best friend. It's late in the year already so you decide to welcome him to the building with some Christmas cookies in hand.

"Hello. I saw you move in here last week and wanted to welcome you to the building." You offer your hand to shake after he opens the door with a questioningly arched eyebrow. Aemond isn't a man of many words you learn quickly.

"Thank you, that's... nice." The platinum blond shakes your hand and takes the cookies from you. "I'm Aemond. Aemond Targaryen. And you are?"

You give him your name. "If you ever need anything, I live two floors above. All you need to do is knock."

Aemond nods curtly.

"Oh and since new years is right around the corner, we always throw a little party for all the singles in the building. You should stop by if you want. We won't bite, I promise." The smile on your face refuses to fade even with his rather cold demeanor.

"Again, thank you, but..." A feminine voice interrupts him.

"Aemond, love, who is there?" The woman who the voice belongs to appears in the door frame as well. Holding onto your new neighbors arm almost possessively.

"Hi, I'm your new neighbor from two floors above. I just wanted to introduce myself real quick and bring over some cookies." You state. Your smile falters a bit as you see the gorgeous dark haired woman.

"Well, you did that now, didn't you? We still have lots to unpack so you'll have to excuse us." She says in a clearly faked friendly tone that hides nothing of her words true meaning. To stay away from both of them.

"Sure. I'm sorry for bothering you in the middle of moving. How silly of me. Have a nice day." You give them a small wave and go back to your apartment.

You couldn't lie to yourself about the disappointment you felt at the sight of Aemond's girlfriend, but he was attractive so was it really a surprise he wasn't single? You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts when a key turns in the door.

"I'm home!" Sarah calls out as the sound of her keys hitting the ceramic bowl sounds through the apartment.

"I'm in the living room." You answer back.

"Hey, how was your day?" She asks with a relaxed smile.

"Same old, same old." You mutter, still kinda in thought.

Together you go to the kitchen to cook, like every night, when you decide to speak up about what happened.

"Have you met the neighbors from two floors down yet?" Curiosity coats your tone as you try to remain nonchalant.

"I thought it was only one. That weird, blond guy. I've seen him around once or twice." Sarah busies herself by stirring in one of the pots.

"Yeah him and his girlfriend. I went to welcome him today and she was really possessive and borderline bitchy. Like, she couldn't get me out of their bubble again fast enough. Didn't even give me her name." Your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches up slightly at the memory.

"Maybe she felt threatened by you?" Sarah chuckles and then a moment of silence follows. "Now that you mention her though... I did hear a woman yelling on my way up here earlier."

That´s the end of the topic for then as the two of you change to lighter topics of conversation.

However, the strangers keep occupying your mind. After Sarah tells you about the altercation, you hear them on and off as well, only to see them madly in love the next time you saw them.

New year’s eve passes and so does Sarah´s and your party. The night going by as eventless as it could. Probably because everyone is drunk off their tits, but when you wake up in bed next to one of your neighbors, you just feel bad. You couldn´t even put your finger on what exactly made you feel this way. It just feels wrong. Okay that wasn't entirely right. If you were just a little more honest with yourself you would know that it was because your brain had decided to spend its free time romanticizing the idea of Aemond and how it would be to be in a relationship not only in general, but with him. Dreaming of him wasn't a rare occurrence and whenever you met him at the mailbox, you could feel yourself blushing as if you were in middle school. Simultaneously not far from you, as the months progressed, Aemond's relationship deteriorated more and more. Alys had grown gradually more jealous and toxic to a point where even he couldn't excuse her behavior anymore. Which hurt more than he would ever want to admit. The two break up and make up almost regularly. The day she tells him she is pregnant however, is the day things escalate. You hear the fight even in your apartment. There's screaming, slamming doors and after about an hour there's complete silence.

Like the good (and slightly worried) neighbor that you are, you make your way down the stairs, knocking quietly on the hard wood.

In a matter of seconds the door gets opened with a rather energetic and aggressive motion.

"Alys, I told you it's..." Aemond growled until he realized it is you who had knocked and not his ex-girlfriend. "Fuck, sorry. I didn't realize we were that loud. I promise it won't happen again."

"No, it's... It's alright. It sounded bad though. Are you good?" Your eyes soften and scan his presence.

The knuckles of his right hand were pressed into an ice pack, his chest heaves with every sharp breath. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, before he answers.

"Yeah, I mean no, but yeah." His one seeing eye drops towards the floor, unable to look at you. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk and you are not one to pry for answers, so you leave it.

"Okay. Um, if you need something, anything. You know where to knock." You give Aemond a sympathetic smile.

Against all your hopes, he actually does knock on your door a week or so later. Granted it is only for some eggs, but still. A win is a win, you tell yourself as you hand him the carton with the eggs he had requested.

"Fuck, thank you. Really. I don't know where my head is these days." Aemond scratches the back of his neck, giving you a perfect peak of his boxers underneath the grey sweatpants. He must've just come from his morning run.

"No problem at all. I did tell you that you could ask for anything if you needed it after all." You assure him.

"Hm, you did. Still... You'll definitely get those back."

Before much more of a conversation can start up, he is gone again. A pattern that continues for the next couple of months, even though he does warm up to you noticeably without Alys´ influence around. Going as far as to even give a small smile here and there. What shocks you the most however, is when he stops you by the mailbox one day close to the beginning of December.

“So, uhm, I know it´s still a while until new year’s, but I just remembered that you told me about this party you and Sarah have every year.”

“Yeah, what about it?” You look up from the mail to meet his eye and tilt your head.

“I was wondering if that invitation still stands by chance?” His brow is furrowed and his tongue swipes out to wet his lips.

Aemond's question makes your heart beat faster. "Of course. Definitely. I'd be happy to see you there." A wide smile spreads your lips.

From previous talks you had gathered that the blond wasn't much of a party animal, but then again neither were you.

“We usually start around eight, but it´s all very relaxed, really.” You inform him and then say your goodbye as the two of you reach his door.

Until the day of the party the two of you only see each other in passing. Giving a quick nod or wave and a smile to the other as you made your way wherever you had to be. Even the evening of it feels like you are constantly running around. Between preparing snacks and drinks, greeting people left and right, refilling stuff and taking shots and dancing with Sarah there wasn't a single moment to chill, before the doorbell rings one final time for the evening.

"Aem! You made it!" You call out happily and as his eye meets yours he witnesses your face lighting up visibly. The nickname for sure is a surprise at first, but taking in the scent of alcohol in your breath, it all checks out. Still it gets his heart to beat faster, before he can answer anything you already pull him inside. The shots Sarah had made you do, made you even more high energy than you usually were. Yet the moment you take his hand to pull him inside, you feel a strange, warm calm run through you follows by a shiver down the spine.

"You almost had me scared you forgot about me." You tease as the two of you sit down on the sofa with a drink in hand.

"I could never forget about you, but my brother called and tried to convince me to go to some party at some stupid club. Let's just say he was never the best at accepting the word no."

"Oh, you have a brother?" Your eyebrows rise so far Aemond is certainly convinced they are about to touch your hair line.

"Yeah. Two brothers actually and a sister." He admits.

"Wow and are you close with them?" As an only child you could only hardly understand what it was like to have siblings. Even if Sarah had tried to explain it to you multiple times.

"We're as close as we can be, I'd say."

"Huh, for some reason I always pegged you to be an only child..."

"How's that?" He asks while the two of you sip on your drinks, lost in the conversation.

"I don't know, probably because of your dark and mysterious brooding nature?” Playfully you pull your chin higher. “Anyway, now that you are here, do you want to dance?”

“How could I ever say no to that question…”

Over the declining bass of the music, a soft knock on the bathroom door echoes through the room. You hadn´t even noticed someone turning down the music It could have been minutes or hours since you entered the room for all you knew. Aemond´s voice calling out directly after. With a groan you lift your head off the cold tiles on the floor. "It's open...” The blond steps in and closes the door behind him immediately so noone else would see you in that state. Curled up on the floor with your forehead resting against the cold tiles in an attempt to cool down and fight the nausea that climbs up your throat. "Oh I'm dreaming of you again." Your speech is slurred and quiet as if talking any louder would make you vomit. "If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you." "You're drunk." He murmurs and shakes his head. "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." You argue with a weak voice. Nevertheless you wrap your arms tightly around him as he picks you up off the floor. There is no lying about the state of inebriation you are in, but the conviction with which you speak also tells that you are speaking the truth. Even though he doesn't want to believe it yet. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Aemond sighs and begins to more or less carry you back to your room. "No..." You whine in protest. "I wanna go back to the party. I'm not even tired yet. Let's dance."

You're like a child, the blond thinks as he rolls his eyes. "No. No more dancing tonight. The party is over, it's bedtime now." "Awww come on, Aem..." You give him your best try at a puppy eyes look, which is only half successful. Ending up more as just a pout.

Aemond´s heart beats faster at the nickname once again. Something it had done quite often in the past months whenever he saw or spoke to you he notices. Gods, he can hear his brothers laugh at him for being like this when it came to emotional matters. He doubted the excuse of Alys having fucked him up in that regard was applicable, when you where so different from her. Carefully Aemond lays you down on your bed. Taking the shoes off your already half asleep form. By the time Aemond pulls the blanket over you, the sound of soft snoring already fills the room.

The next morning you wake up alone, fully dressed, with a massive headache, a bottle of water and a note on the bedside table for the first time in a while. Telling yourself that this was exactly the reason why you never drank and swearing to every deity above or below that it would never happen again. Groaning some more at the brightness that streams through the window, you sit up in bed to take a sip of water and the pain killer right beside it. With the cotton mouth successfully fought off, you turn to the note. Wondering where the paper even came from you notice how neat and pretty the curly letters are written. The name of the addresser jumps into your eyes next. Signed at the bottom. Aemond Targaryen. As you read his name, your eyes eagerly jump to the top of the page.

I hope this note finds you well and the pain killers help any hangover you might take away from last night. I had a lot of fun with you. Also, you snore when you sleep.

Aemond Targaryen

“Fuck…” You curse under your breath. Trying to remember last night makes the headache only worse, but at least there are no gaps in your memory. Left with the memory of the blond helping your drunk self into bed, you decide to apologize to him. Freshening up and putting on some comfortable clothes, you climb down the stairs in the evening.

“Come in.” Aemond greets you with a smile as he sees the way you flinch ever so slightly at a door slamming shut somewhere.

“Thanks.” Gratefully you sit in his living room, while Aemond gets you a cup of coffee. “I- uhm, I came to apologize for last night.”

“For what?” His brows furrow together so much they almost become one.

“For getting so drunk that you had to carry me to bed. I usually am not like this at all.” Regret laces your words.

“Oh, that. Don´t sweat it. I´m kind of used to it and I still had a lot of fun.” Aemond assures immediately, but it does little to reduce the shame at your own behaviour.

“No, no. Even if you are used to it, I shouldn´t have done that. It was so stupid and unfair to you.” You lay your forehead into one hand and sigh.

“Why did you even drink so much in the first place?” He inquires.

“I kind of wanted to ask you out… but then when I threatened to chicken out so Sarah told me to drink something for courage and somewhere something became a little more and then we ended where we ended.” You feel your face begin to burn at the admission.

“You wanted to what?” A soft pink flush lays over his cheeks.

“I wanted to ask you out…” You repeat even quieter than before.

“Well, you could still do that, if you so wish to.” Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as you take in his words.

Your eyes grow wide and your lips part as you look back up at him. Stumbling over your words for a while before you get out a clear sentence. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Yes, I´d like that very much. There is a new restaurant that I´ve been meaning to try out. Maybe I could pick you up in an hour?” The request makes you happier than anything. Overshadowing any of the shame you had felt previously.

“Yes, oh my god absolutely.” You jump up in a flurry of excitement, that entirely chases off the remnants of hangover. “Just give me an hour.”

The smiles on both of your faces grow incredibly big, reaching your eyes for the first time in a long time. When you go, it is so hastily you have to be careful not to fall up the stairs and even Aemond feels a certain type of happy as he changes into something more fitting with his heart skipping in his chest.

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