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nereidprinc3ss · 2 days

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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canyoureallycallthisablog · 2 days

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Oh yes my favorite duo, 'AAWEHEHEGWGWV 🥺🥺' and 'I'm barely tolerating your ass'

#Deltarune #utdr #ralsei #kris dreemurr #i don't actually believe in the 'Ralsei is actually in love with the player' i just think the idea is funny #in tea theory terms: kris getting 60+ health probably means they like ralsei enough considering the circumstances #but them barely tolerating him because he's putting an annoying uwu vibe to please the player is a way funnier #people in the fandom worrying over Ralsei being all suspicious but I'm here to show you that's actually a good thing #imagine how unbelievable funny it would be if his cute face just dropped the second the player isn't looking #and ralsei tries to explain to kris that they should also act a bit more put together for the sake of their plan #'kris professionals have standards' and proceeds to do his dumb looking down blushy face #anyway thanks for listening to my insane ramblings about sus ralsei

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muchlovekatia · 13 hours

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✧ ˚ · . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 —

. . theodore nott x

reader ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

SYNOPSIS : maybe theodore nott isn't the best boyfriend. but he is rather observant, isn't he?

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔹

warnings! :

none :)

theodore nott and acknowledging the little things <3

.ೃ࿐ 🎞️

〰️

"i'm thinkin' about reading this new book," you spoke, your hands absentmindedly running through theo's ruffled hair in the way that you knew he loved. "mia told me it was good. my friend, remember?"

you really didn't want to bother him much whenever he seemed on the brink of sleep, but theo always insisted that he loved it whenever you talked while he was tired. he said it helped him fall asleep, which you couldn't deprive him of, so, late at night, propped up against your headboard with his head on your torso and his arms wrapped around your middle, you rattled off meaningless details about your day, from how you were a moment late to lunch, to that there was an ache in your left leg. sometimes, he responded, other times, he didn't, and you never pushed him to, either.

"the one who keeps holding you in class?" he muttered, and you huffed a laugh. since you'd developed a friendship with mia, you fell victim to talking a lot in class and getting held behind for extra work. theo loved complaining about it, too.

"yea." a soft smile tugged at your lips. "it's called 'the book thief'. from what i've heard, it sounds pretty good."

much to your surprise, theo seemed to wake himself up, drawing his head from your torso and instead, lightly resting his chin there. you peered down at him, a question in your eyes, but he spoke before you could.

"what's it about?" he asked, his eyes darkened in the dull light of the lamp on your bedside table. you breathed a laugh, skepticism creeping across your face.

"since when have you ever shown interest in what i read?" you inquired in return. often, you told your boyfriend about the books you were reading, and though he avidly listened, he never really asked about it much. below you, theo pursed his lips, face scrunching in what you couldn't guess the meaning of.

"since mia started giving you recommendations," came his reply after a bit of thinking. "why are you asking anyways? are you implying that i'm dumb 'cause i don't read a lot?" he sent you a sarcastically skeptical face, to which your mouth fell open to in mock surprise.

"i would never," you scoffed as if he was crazy for even thinking it. he kept that same look on his face for what felt like eternities until your hands reached out to tug the corners of his mouth into a smile. though he let you, each time you retracted your fingers, his mouth would drop back into that frown. "so difficult," you muttered with a laugh. theo tilted his head to the side.

"so?"

giving up, you dropped your hands at your sides and looked away, thinking back on your earlier interaction with your classmate and what she had said about the book. "i'm pretty sure it's about this german girl... something about her moving to a foster home 'cause her mom's on the run. takes place during the holocaust." your eyes strayed back to his own, which were intently assessing your face. you grinned. "why do you care, seriously?"

theo propped himself on his elbows, leaning up to kiss your lips. "can't care 'bout my girlfriend's life anymore, huh?" you giggled when he peppered your face with tender pecks, his lips soft and warm on your skin.

"answer the question, teddy." you poked his side, turning your head to the left so he could no longer kiss you. he sighed through his nose, leaning back again and shrugging as best as he could in his position.

"i dunno. i wanna talk to you," he uttered, and your laughter died, your smile blooming even further. you couldn't help but love him even more in those moments, your heart so full you felt it might explode inside your chest. "be part of your life more."

"you already are," you reassured, tilting your head to the side and reaching a hand out to run your fingers through his hair once more. he hummed his approval, resting his head on your torso the way he had before you had interrupted his sleepiness.

"okay. continue, please," theo stated against your clothed skin, hands gripping the hem of your shirt. you smiled.

"alright."

two weeks later.

〰️

the first thing you felt when you woke up was a chaste kiss against the skin of your forehead, shifting, and cold air. you struggled to open your eyes, still weak under the weight of sleep. theo's voice pulled you out a bit.

"gotta get to class, mi amore. i'll be back soon," he said. you hummed a small acknowledgment, not bothering to say anything more before you shifted below the sheets and faintly heard the door click open and closed.

an hour later, and you were sitting up against the headboard, yawning and stretching and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. the clock on your bedside table told you it was 8:03 am. still too early, but breakfast was calling to your empty stomach. you looked to the side, upset that theo was gone and expecting the sheets to be completely empty. they weren't.

a few inches from your thigh, was a thin, rectangular box. a present. it was wrapped up in a sort of newspaper design, tied with a red ribbon. calling to be opened. tentatively, you twisted your body, tucked your legs underneath you, and picked up the gift. it was cold and stark in your hands. not wanting to ruin the intricate paper design, you carefully unwrapped it, mind whirling to a bunch of different thoughts. today wasn't anything special. you couldn't think of a reason theo would gift you something, but then again, he did love buying you things without you even asking. was it even from theo?

your breath caught in your throat once it was all opened, a smile blooming on your lips. a copy of the book thief. it was— he even went with the color scheme to simply wrap it up. faded newspaper and red. you huffed a laugh, opening it up, and what was on the inside surprised you even more.

'turns out mia has good book taste.' he had read it? there was 525 pages in the book, and he read all of it. for you. flipping open the pages, what you found baffled you just further. he had left notes, as well, little annotations across the pages, with words like 'this made me think of you', or, 'we should do this together'.

mia had good taste, indeed.

doing this instead of studying 💪💪

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #katiasworks #theo nott fic #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theonottsmut #theo nott rec #theodore nott fic #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #theodore #💼:: katiasworks

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middlepartmatt · 3 days

Text

After Party

“so i love when you call unexpected, 'cause i hate when the moment's expected. so i'ma care for you, you, you” — EARNED IT, the weeknd

SUMMARY: you and chris have been best friends since childhood, and nothing more. that is, until one night you are the last two people awake after a party and you're both in the mood for something more.

WARNINGS: smut, switch!chris, switch!reader, oral (male & fem receiving), grinding

AUTHOR’S NOTE: writing chris and matt fics on wattpad has actually made me TERRIFIED of the sturniolo police so this is scaaaaary. anyway lmk what u think and if u don't like this, don't read it thx

────

It's currently 4:30 am, and the party has long since died down. Everybody left about two hours ago when the police showed up and kicked out all of the guests because of noise complaints, but the group had decided to stay awake and talk for an hour until Nick complained he was tired, and everybody else mumbled in agreement. They're all asleep now, besides you and Chris, the only two left downstairs.

You're bored out of your mind, sitting and staring mindlessly at the wall while Chris scrolls on his phone. Your eyes unwillingly drift over to him, your gaze comfortably settling on him on the other side of the couch. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a basic white tee, his hair messy and covering his eyes slightly where it's hanging over his forehead. You hate the feeling you get deep in youe stomach as you look at him, illuminated only by a few candles and the light from his phone screen.

Like he can feel your eyes on him, Chris then puts down his phone and turns to look at you. His blue eyes seem muted and sleepy, though there's a glint in them you can't seem to ignore.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he suggests, and you just nod. He picks up the remote and begins scrolling through Netflix. Despite yourself, you study him closely as he looks through the plethora of movies available for the two of you to watch. You suddenly feel the room getting warmer and push the fluffy blanket off of yourself.

Chris settles on a movie, not bothering to ask you if you even want to watch it on before the opening credits begin playing. You leans back against the couch, occasionally finding yourself glancing over at Chris to see his reaction to the movie. Though his face remains the same, barely even showing any signs of amusement. It's almost like his mind is completely elsewhere.

So is yours, clearly, as he's all you can focus on.

You roll your eyes at yourself and decide to start actually watching the movie. It's a stupid Adam Sandler comedy with a bunch of dumb scenes and even worse jokes, though you find yourself amused all the same.

"This movie is so dumb," you chuckle, and Chris turns around to see you, a smile on his face.

"Can't be that bad if you're laughing," he replies quickly, and you kiss your teeth. His eyes remain locked with yours and you suddenly feel nervous, so you decide to look away. You pick up your glass and take a sip of water, before leaning back with the glass still in your hand.

"Well anyway, you must be disappointed about tonight," you say to Chris, who raises an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" he asks quietly.

"Come on, Chris," you says, rolling your eyes. "I think tonight's the first time you've been at a party and not had your tongue down some girl's throat at least once."

He furrows his eyebrows and presses his lips together.

"Maybe I didn't want to," he says quietly, like he's contemplating something. It irks you though, because you realize it's the first time you've struggled to figure him out. Usually you can always tell what he's thinking, but tonight has been impossible.

"Or maybe all of the girls at school have finally realized how ugly you are," you say, your voice laced with sarcasm. Chris scoffs loudly, like it's the most outrageous thing he's ever heard.

But then, all of a sudden, he twists in your direction and places his hands on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Chris' grip tightens, fingers brushing against your skin as he sits you down onto his crotch. Your smile falls, and Chris grins as he leans closer and whispers into your ear: "Maybe this is what I was waiting for."

You tense, barely able to move or even think as you register what is currently happening.

"That's funny," you reply, your words coming out weaker and quieter than you wanted.

"Almost as funny as you trying to convince yourself you don't want this," Chris replies instantly, as if without a thought.

The movie continues playing in the background, but neither of you are paying it any attention whatsoever. Chris is just looking at you, his hands still firmly planted on her waist. Every single word has left your mind.

"If you hate this, you can always leave," he shrugs, leaning back but keeping his hands exactly where they are. You could slap him for saying something like that when you're literally sitting on his lap and can barely even think because of it.

When you doesn't speak again, Chris just continues: "Last chance, baby," he says softly.

You don't want to leave. Heat rises to your cheeks, and his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and Chris immediately grins before leaning forward to kiss you. It's is full of need.

He kisses you slowly, deeply, his lips pressing hard against yours as he reaches around your waist to pull you closer to him. You return the gesture, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him even closer to you, to which Chris responds by smiling against your lips.

From there, your hands move to his neck, your skin burning hot against his as you moves further upwards, running your fingers through his hair. As you do so, Chris pulls away slightly, his chest moving up and down as he breathes heavily.

"Fuck, baby, you can't-" he pants, but you cuts him off.

"Can't what?" you grin, and he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, almost in disbelief at your words. His hands then trail upwards from your waist to rest on your neck, right as he leans forward to kiss you again.

You kisses him back, your lips moving in sync with each other. Your mind swirls with a million thoughts; you're now realizing how badly you want this and the fact that you've wanted it for a long while.

Chris leans back against the couch again, you leaning forward to deepen the kiss, your breath hitching slightly as he puts his hands on your waist once more. Throughout the kiss, he fiddles with the hem of your tank top, his fingers brushing lightly against you skin, making your heart beat even faster.

You decides that enough is enough and if he's going to mess with you like this, then you're allowed to do the same. His hands are still on your hips as you brings her hands back up to run through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your fingers.

Chris uses his hands to pull you closer, and you can feel your body responding to his actions as you kiss him harder. You practically melt into him as your hands now find their place on his neck by his collarbone. Unable to stop yourself, you tug his bottom lip between your teeth before kissing him again. Chris chuckles mid-kiss, and you're struggling to believe that this is actually currently happening.

Your thoughts immediately disappear when you feels his erection pressing against your core, and you can't help the grin that forms on your lips. You press herself against him, rubbing your body against his, feeling his cock throbbing against your skin.

Chris groans in response and bites your lip. You feel his hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing gently. Then he lifts you slightly so that he can sit up straighter, with you still straddling his lap.

You rub your pussy along his cock through his pants, and he whimpers softly. You slip your hand inside his pants and finds his hard cock, stroking it slowly.

"Fuck," Chris grits out, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah?" you hum in response, reeling in the way he throws his head back against the couch cushion just at the sound of your voice. "You like that?"

He nods and arches his hips upward, grinding against your hand. You laugh softly and kiss him again, still stroking him.

You pull away from the kiss and slide off of him. Chris sits up and reaches for you, but you shake your head. You first pulls his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side before leaning forward and kissing him again.

Chris moans into your mouth, his hands sliding down your sides to your hips. He lifts you slightly so that he can pull your shirt up and off of your torso.

You shiver as his fingers brush against your bare stomach. You gasp softly as he kisses your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

Before he can do anything else, you quickly move away and bend down, your eye level the same as his knees. His hard cock is bulging out of his boxers, and Chris looks down at you longingly.

"Touch me, baby, please," he begs. You grab his boxers by the waistband and pull them down, revealing his throbbing cock. You smile at him wickedly and drop to your knees, taking him into your warm mouth.

"Fuck," Chris repeats, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh God, ma."

Chris moans loudly and closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of your plump lips wrapped around him. You begin to move your head back and forth, tongue swirling around his dick. You moan softly as you suck him, your hand moving up and down his length. You glance up at him and see him watching you, his hands gripping the couch cushions tightly.

You use your hand to stroke him gently while you suck his dick. You love the sounds he makes, and you moans softly every time you take him into your mouth. Chris groans and runs his fingers through your hair, pushing you closer to him. You moan and take him deeper into your throat, your nose pressed against his stomach. He lets out a shaky breath and pushes your head further onto him. You let out a surprised sound when you feels him hit the back of your throat.

You gag slightly and pull back a little bit, but Chris holds your head there, his fingers tangling in your hair. He moans loudly and continues to fuck her face, his fingers digging into her scalp. You moan, other hand gripping his thigh as you tries not to gag. Throughout all of this, you feel yourself getting wetter with each thrust of his cock into your mouth.

You whimpers, loving how he makes you feel. Chris moans and leans back, his cock twitching as he cums into your mouth. You swallow it all, before your eyes widen in surprise as he pulls you up off of him. Chris smiles and pulls you close, kissing you hard.

He pulls away before grinning: "Your turn, ma."

Chris pushes you back against the couch, so that you're laying down before him.

He kneels between your legs and pulls your skirt up, revealing your white lace panties. Chris smiles and slides his hand into her panties, feeling her wetness.

"So wet," he muses. "Is this all for me, baby?"

"All for you, asshole," you reply breathlessly, barely able to think straight. He moans softly and slides his fingers along your slit, teasing you. He pulls your panties to the side and finally slides his fingers inside you, finding your clit instantly.

He rubs it slowly, smirking as you moan softly. He slides two fingers into your tight pussy and finger fucks you. You release a short whimper and bite your lip, closing your eyes. Chris smirks and slides a third finger inside you, making you moan louder this time. He continues to finger you and rub your clit, and your body starts to shake.

"Woah, calm down, ma," he murmurs. "I've only just got started with you." His words alone make you even wetter, if that's even possible. Your legs spread wider for him and he moans as he slides a fourth finger inside you, stretching you wide open. You cry out, thighs clenching together

Chris then pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean, before leaning down and sliding his tongue along your slit. You moans and now spread your legs wider, so desperate for his touch. He sucks on your clit gently, and you writhe, unable to control yourself.

"Chris, stop," you manage. "If you keep going, I'm gonna-"

Chris suddenly stops then, and stands up, pulling your panties back over your wet pussy. Your eyes widen as you're left lying there, longing for his touch.

"Chris," you plead. "Please."

He grins at your desperate state, a cocky smile playing on his lips.

"What was that?" he teases. "Say it again, baby, I couldn't hear you."

"Fuck you, Chris," you say, your voice strained as you press your legs together for any sort of friction.

"I thought you'd never ask," Chris grins, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. He kisses you hard, then slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. You moan into his mouth and try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight, pressing himself against you.

His tip grazes you soaking pussy softly, and you spread your legs wider for him, looking up at him pleadingly. You moans and push your hips towards him, begging him to enter you. He smiles and eases his cock into you, making you gasp. He groans and slowly slides his cock further into your tight pussy, filling you up completely.

"You're so fucking hot, ma," Chris whispers, grinning. Moans leave his mouth as he begins thrusting in and out of you, fucking you hard. You groan and grind against him, your pussy throbbing. You arch your back, needing even more of him.

Your body trembles as his thrusts get faster, more out of control. You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out.

"Moan for me, ma," Chris tells you then.

"Chris," you whimper, and he moans as you say his name. With every thrust you get closer to tipping over the edge, your groans growing louder with every movement.

Your body shakes, your pussy pulsing around his cock. Chris doesn't stop though, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

"Cum for me, baby."

You do as he says, letting out a moan as his cock hits the back of you one last time. You hold him tightly, your nails dragging sharply down his back, though Chris doesn't mind. He loves seeing you unravel like this in front of him, knowing it's all his doing.

"Good girl," he whispers into your ear.

"Your turn," you whisper back, suddenly grabbing his hips and thrusting yourself onto him one more time. Chris tips his head back, groaning as he finishes.

He pulls out of you, looking down at you, his best friend, with a smile on his face.

"Bet no one else has ever made you moan like that before, huh?" he grins smugly. You bite your lip, shaking you head. "Thought so."

"Shut up," you reply, getting up from the couch and reaching out for his hand. "We should get cleaned up," you tell him.

"If you wanna have shower sex, you can just say so," Chris shrugs, and despite yourself, blush forms on your cheeks.

"I'll take that as a yes," Chris answers, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom.

────

AUTHOR'S NOTE PT. 2: i am a y/n hater for life you will never catch me using that so drop more pet names in the comments because i can't be overusing "baby" and "ma" LMFAOOO

#sturniolo #chrissturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #player chris

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hypnoneghoul · 23 hours

Note

Im happy you liked my thought lol

would honestly love to see something about rain overstimulating the hell out of someone, idrc who but I currently have swussy brain rot so swiss would be cool. But like whoever u want to do

mmm im always down to torturing that ghoul

tentacle dick, anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, toys, overstimulation, biting, nipple play, creampie, possessiveness

Swiss doesn’t know if he’s in heaven, hell, or purgatory. All at once, he thinks, but at the same time he feels like he’s being suffocated and crushed by the earth itself.

“Don’t float away, beam,” Rain’s voice brings him back down. “I need you here with me.”

“Uh-uh,” Swiss replies dumbly and squeezes his eyes as another wave of everything hits him.

The water ghoul is cruel.

Well, just a bit, because he wouldn’t actually do all that to Swiss if he didn't like it, but…he definitely enjoys it way too much. That thought reverberates through Swiss’ head as Rain closes his lips around one of his nipples again and bites.

The multi ghoul wails and Rain chuckles. His tentacle buried in Swiss’ ass alongside a small vibrating plug scrunches up to stretch him just that little bit more and this, in turn, shifts the buzzing dildo shoved deep into Swiss’ cunt. Apart from that he has a vibrator pressed against his clit and the water ghoul’s mouth on his chest.

He is losing his mind.

“R–Rain, princess, fuck, please.” Swiss doesn’t know what he’s begging for. He needs more, but at the same time he needs all of this to just stop because it’s so hot, but it hurts so bad. Neither of them knows how many times Rain made him cum, but they have been at it for hours. To Swiss it feels like days.

Rain’s cum a few times, too, effectively filling Swiss’s cunt all the way up, but it was nothing compared to what he’s been making the multi ghoul go through. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh, come on, love,” the water ghoul chuckles and he makes the other look down at him with glassy eyes as he licks a stripe up Swiss’ sternum. It’s cold against his burning skin and he shivers.

Rain’s smile softens and a dumb thought crosses the multi ghoul’s mind—that it’s coming to an end—and he’s so tired and blissed out that he does make the mistake of letting his guard down. He whines, his eyelids droop and his tongue lolls out and Rain can’t help but smirk at how he looks like a thoroughly fucked out cheap whore.

He adores it; he adores Swiss.

Still, Rain is not quite finished. He wants to pull one more orgasm from both of them, and then he’ll kiss every inch of Swiss’ sweaty skin with reverence, appreciation and love. But not yet.

He pulls his hips barely an inch back before slamming his cock back in and pressing the toy against Swiss’ dick and the one in his cunt down and deeper inside with his own lower stomach. Rain grunts at the sweet pained noise the multi ghoul lets out and grinds in as far as he’ll go. Swiss feels him in his throat anyway—no one beside Rain can reach those places inside him.

Still, Swiss needs one more thing to fall down that cliff for the -th time. Rain knows it all too well, and so he latches his mouth on the multi ghoul’s neck and bites down hard, piercing layers of skin one by one and holding. It’s as possessive as it gets and Swiss’ high and wrecked moan vibrates through Rain’s mouth as they both cum again.

The water ghoul doesn’t open his mouth and doesn’t pull back for a while—just reaches to turn the toys buried in the other off—but the nature of the bite shifts. Both the hold of his teeth and his arms on Swiss soften and it turns into an affectionate and reassuring embrace.

When Rain’s jaw starts to ache and he does let go—only to start gently lick at the bite—Swiss is fast asleep under him

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul

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myhaikyuuacademia · 2 days

Text

Totally fake | Ant x Reader (Heartbreak High)

Fake dating, fem!reader A/N: it’s been a while since I watched s1 so forgive me if the timeline is a little wonky. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You had no idea how you got yourself in this… situation. In this mess, honestly. Thanks to Amerie, the whole school life had imploded. Thanks a lot, Map Bitch. Now here you were, standing next to her trying to get a ticket for the party as Ant told her about how his mom reacted to the whole Darren wristy thing. Your face twinged up in sympathy. Somehow Quinni and Darren had adopted Amerie into your friendgroup after the whole thing, so here you were, supporting your new friend. Well, it was more like she dragged you along. Moral support or something. Ant ended up telling Ams to go ask Spider and she trudged away disappointed, but you stayed, hesitating. “Um, I’m sorry about your mom.” You offered. What a stupid thing to say, you cursed yourself. Boys made you nervous. “Yeah, it really sucks. I love Jesus and all but going to church 3 more times a week is reaaaaally boring.” He groaned. You began walking to your next class together. “Um.” You started talking before you could think. You were a fixer, it was a whole thing. A pathological need to fix things, which is why you couldn’t really be against Quinni and Darren taking Amerie in, you wanted to help fix this. But sometimes in your need to fix things you went a little overboard. You realized that that was what you were doing after you had already started talking, and now you didn’t know what to say. But being quiet now was also embarrassing. “What’s up?” Ant stopped and leaned against the doorway of your classroom. Looking at you expectantly. Fuck it. “Maybe I could help.” You looked at him. “With your mom I mean.” He looked confused, his brows furrowing as he tried to figure out what you were proposing. “How?” Taking a deep breath in, you began rambling the plan that had formed in your head in the span of maybe 10 seconds. Which in hindsight, perhaps was a sign that this was a really dumb idea. “Well. I’m assuming your moms problem is that Darren is not a girl. Because you’re Christian and all. Which, I don’t know, not very Christian, ya know? Loving your neighbour and all. But anyway. If her problem is in fact that, I am a very good liar, I know enough about like the bible and stuff, and I happen to be a girl…” You trail off. He looked as confused as he did before you started talking, which, honestly, you figured this would not be enough to get him to understand. It was just too embarrassing to finish. You felt cold all of a sudden. Nervous. Rubbing your arms for warmth, or perhaps in an attempt to rub the nervousness away. “I’m saying I could be your fake girlfriend until she calms down.” You finally huffed out. “Ohhhhhhh” You swore you could almost see the lightbulb that went off above his head. “Gotcha.” He nodded contemplatively. “You’re really smart, y/n, I’m impressed.” Still nodding. You were a little surprised he knew your name. People tended to not know it because you mostly kept to yourself outside of your friendship with Darren and Quinni. And you hadn’t talked to Ant before, like literally ever. Yeah you shared a lot of classes, but he didn’t really seem to pay attention and so far you had never been paired with him for any group work. “Let’s do it.” He grinned, excitedly. “Wait what?” Your eyes widened in surprise. “For real?” You didn’t know what you expected his answer to be, but for some reason you hadn’t prepared yourself for a yes.

“Yeah! I’m in! I only see positives honestly. I get to pretend to date the coolest girl I know and get my mom off my back.” Wait, what did he say? The coolest girl he knows? Huh? You blinked in confusion as he left you standing in front of the open door to go to his seat. Autopilot activated you went to your seat, in between Darren and Quinni. Completely zoned out your eyes trained on Ant who was sitting a couple rows ahead and to your right. “Earth to y/n, repeat Earth to y/n.” A hand was waving in front of your face and you blinked as you turned to Darren. “huh?”. “What’s wrong with you today, space girl?” They asked. “What?” Your brain hadn’t completely caught up yet. “Why were you talking to Ant?” Quinni asked excitedly. Why was she excited? “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk to him before.” She mused. Uh. What were you supposed to tell them? Both of them looked at you expectantly. Completely frozen, your brain refused to cooperate. “I.. uh. Amerie. Party. Slapband. You know?” The words were more stuttered out than said, and they did in fact not know what you meant. Your saviour came in the form of a very out-of-breath Amerie, who was almost late to class, but just almost. She fell into her seat next to Quinni and immediately started babbling about whatever it was she was up to after she had left you and Ant, taking all attention off of you. And if they saw you staring at Ant the whole class, they didn’t say anything. Yet.

By the end of the school day you had bounced back, the whole Ant thing still nagging at a corner of your brain but not at the front anymore. Until you were walking out the school gate with Darren, Quinni and Amerie, that is. “Hey, y/n, Wait up!.” This caught the attention of your more than nosy friends. You stopped and turned around to see Ant jogging up with a stupidly cute grin on his face. “Um, hi, what’s up?” Your face felt unusually flushed. Your friends looked at you like they were vultures and you, and the ensuing gossip that would come from this, their prey. You didn’t need to look at them to know that. “Here.” He held out a slapband. “You don’t have one yet, do you?” “No, I don’t, actually.” You were about to tell him that you were not interested. Partys? Not your thing. But the way he looked at you, and the fact that he got you one and went out of his way to give it to you, rendered you incapable of rejecting it. He was waiting for you to take it, or do something to accept it, so you lifted your arm and held it out in front of him. He slapped it on your arm and you mumbled out a thank you. “No worries, babe.” He leaned in and gave you quick peck on the cheek before he proceeded to wink at you and then leave with a wave and a “See you later!”. You almost dropped to your knees. What the hell just happened. Wide-eyed you looked after him, hand lifting to touch the cheek he had just kissed, legs still awfully wobbly. “BABE?!?!?!” A chorus of awestruck half-yells ripped you out of your moment, seconds before your friends came into view in front of you and crowded you. This was… too much. You gave up trying to keep your legs steady and dropped down to the ground, sitting on your knees, before shifting to sit criss-cross applesauce. “Whoa, shit girl, you okay?” Amerie dropped down next to you. Not trusting your voice you simply nodded yes. “Oh my god, you and Anthony Vaughn?” Darren crouched down next, almost scandalized by what they had just witnessed. “Oh, are we sitting now?” Quinni, bless her, sat down next to you. “Yeah…” You just said, to no one in particular, nodding. “Oh my god, you’re like, a total goner.” Amerie laughed. “I am?” You turned to look at her with puppy-dog eyes. Before this day started, you had never talked to Anthony Vaughn before, and now, before it ended, you were apparently head over heels for him. You blamed it on hormones, or some kind of chemical inbalance in your brain. Because… there was no way, right?

This would make the fake-dating significantly harder, you concluded, after you had time to mull it over. You and your friends had continued sitting on the ground for a good 10 minutes, before you felt stable enough to attempt standing and walking again. Of course they all had a million questions, yelling simultaneously, trying to understand what they had just witnessed. You had no idea what to tell them. “I will tell you once I know.” You end up saying, which leads to more questions. “Seriously guys, not right now.” You couldn’t tell them anything before you lined up stories with Ant. Well, technically you could tell them it was all fake, but they were all huge blabbermouths, and you wanted to check in with Ant first, before doing anything. You hadn’t expected him to just… go and do that. Like, at least you had expected talking to him once, or maybe twice, about what being in a fake relationship entailed, you know, lining up stories, where, what, who, when…. What kind of person his mother was, how far to go, how much to do to make it believable. But now everything had kind of blown up and it had to wait. You didn’t even have his number, you realized, after you were finally alone. The gang had tried to peer-pressure you into making this a whole goss-sesh at the diner, but you managed to worm your way out of it. Now they would probably just do it anyway, but without you to defend yourself. Not that there was anything you could say right now. Frustrated you blew a piece of hair out of your face. This was gonna be one hell of a week.

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cephalonheadquarters · 2 days

Text

Finally thinking about her more

Sharlotte ref + rambling under cut

Hi this is Ch— Sharlotte “with an ‘S’” Licha ⬆️ She is a kitefin shark and an old woman now but she’s very eccentric (despite the ref looking kind of stiff, sorry).

She comes from a very wealthy and weird family who lives far outside of Splatsville in some countryside area idfk. She moved to Splatsville as a young adult and later wanted to pursue her (impulsive) dream of...opening a pizza place. Her crazy-rich family graciously supported her endeavors, except for her older sister (who i've yet to design and name lol). Sharlotte’s sister is also her only sibling, and the only one that has “common sense” in the family, or at least she says so herself.

Sharlotte and her sister often spent time together while their parents were out most of the days. Not in a neglectful way, though. They were very loved and taken care of very well. Sharlotte would usually sit around watching her sister do random things like homework and it’d really bother her. Her sister didn’t like her, if it wasn’t obvious.

As they grew up, they drifted further apart from one another. Sharlotte watched her sister go on to become more successful and move to Inkopolis. Her sister wanted to be more independent and not have anything to do with her family because “they’re all idiots.” As mentioned before, Sharlotte went to Splatsville. She found it to be sort of cozier than Inkopolis, yet just as lively, if not livelier. She had no idea why she went there (It’s because she wanted to be like her sister and grow up but she doesn’t know that). She felt sort of lost. And hungry. And then the Fantastic idea appeared in her shark brain and in a short amount of time with hard work and a lot of her parents’ money, she was able to open up the saddest, most pathetic, near-invisible restaurant(?) squished between buildings that Splatsville had ever seen (if they were to look for it).

She needed employees though, so she started looking and wow the first guy she hired was some loser chimaera who she later started to see as the emo teenage son that she never had. Her dumb pizza place has been “in business” for several years now because no one fucking cares enough about it to do anythibg Oh also she’s still hiring. Most recent guy is a random tilefish of some kind, who she can’t ever remember the name of. She’s also not very good at being a boss/manager because she makes the wildest and most unhelpful decisions ever. No one working for her likes her but they stay anyways because they get paid Super well. She likes to keep her wealthiness a secret but is very bad at it and everyone who works there knows she’s suspiciously rich. Her cars also get stolen a lot. Doesn’t know why. Doesn’t care. She just buys identical new ones. Also 98% of her money she has isn’t even hers I’m guessing you can guess where it comes from LOL

TLDR Sharlotte is kind of stupid, but her heart’s in the right place

#splatoon #splatoon oc #oc #sharlotte licha #my art

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sl0t4matt · 2 days

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l. yamal bf! headcanons (requested)

i didn’t know what to write abt this one he’s so younggg, but for the person requesting, i hope i did okay :))

❀bf! lamine, that has loved you ever since you were little.

❀bf! lamine, that would talk shit with you about the referee’s and rival players, complaining as to why they would play so unfairly and the refs that have obviously been bought.

❀bf! lamine, that you were so proud of when he got his debut for the first team since it always has been his dream to become one of the barcelona legends.

❀bf! lamine, that you can completely be yourself with because he always matches your energy.

❀bf! lamine, that always puts you in his tiktok dumps wether it being a cute picture of you or one of the both of you. he always wants to show you off.

❀bf! lamine, that is a big romantic and takes you to cute but also thoughtful dates, like the picnic you both did.

❀bf! lamine, that loves to annoy the shit out of you, it being his way of flirting.

❀bf! lamine, who (when at schoo) would yap with to you about literally anything instead of doing his work, mostly talking about the most ridiculous topics like how he thinks that “people who squint are cringey af”. but you’re not exactly better. people would call the two of you the yapping duo, as dumb as it sounds, it was true. the both of you never seem to shut up, getting glares from anyone that would listen to you.

❀bf! lamine that would send you pictures of messi and his wife writing next to them: “us”.

❀bf! lamine that only reply’s to haters comments when it’s about you. he’s fine if someone has something against him but when it’s about you that crosses the line. he would hate to see worrying about dumb, jealous people. “she doesn’t even look that good.” “stfu.”

❀bf! lamine, who gets yelled at by xavi because he keeps texting you.

❀bf! lamine, that sends you pictures of the sunset because you love of them so much.

❀bf! lamine, that complaints about how you always take his hoodies, but secretly loves it because when you give them back they smell like you.

❀bf! lamine, that hates it when you call him bro (you do it on purpose to provoke him)

❀bf! lamine, that remembers everything about you. “i remember you said you liked this, so i got it for you”

❀bf! lamine, that can’t help but blush when you do such simple things like complimenting him. “you look so cute in that pink hoodie.” “stop, oh my god.”

❀bf! lamine, that won’t let you pay whenever you’re with him. “why did you even bring your wallet, i’m gonna pay anyways.”

❀bf! lamine, that calls you whenever he’s in another country because of a game.

❀bf! lamine, who’s comments are down baddd whenever you post something. “you look so good, can you tell me to kms🙏🏼” “bro i want you so bad, what do you want me to do, i will do anything for you.” “someone take my phone away🫣” sometimes you can’t even tell wether he’s joking or not.

❀bf! lamine, that is soo clingy with you, always feeling the need to hold your hand, somehow wanting to show his love for you.

❀bf! lamine, that secretly loves the edits you send of him. they do make him look good, you got to admit.

#barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi #joao felix #lamine yamal #hector fort #marc guiu #la masia

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pumpkinbxtch · 16 hours

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NSFW kind of thing (just so you know)

Haven't you stopped to think when you're fucking with them? (Like Frank, Jason, PERCY, LEO) yeah, what I mean is that guys are definitely dumb while you're doing it. SO just imagine you're in bed with them and out of nowhere they say "Oh holy (divine parent name, maybe their OWN parent)" and you're stoping and lookin at them like???

“— What?! —” They say

“— Names!”

And from Olympus is the divine parent like:

(because they casually wanted to see why you named them)

WHAT THE FUCCCCC-?

because they definitely don't want to see their children fucking their family's children even if they don't have DNA or are shameless.

because I have thought about it... ANYWAYS.

its funny. Sorry

#pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #pjo #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson #leo valdez #jason grace #frank zhang

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tokyo-debunkers-headcanons · 22 hours

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Eyoooo, thanks for answering my last ask!!! anyways, gotta new one for ya, same groups if ya able but with a really pretty/attractive mc s/o like manhwa mc level kinda pretty. I can imagine kaito being somewhere along the lines of 'they tossed me over their shoulder and I've been on it ever since' with a little touch of internal screaming. I just wanna see if any of the boys would be flustered or have their ego stroked with having a really pretty s/o -👾

Thanks for sending asks in fam! This will be fun since I have so many ideas for these boys!

JIN KAMURAI

Being honest, his ego is entirely stroked by an attractive MC.

The one thing he finds a pain in the ass is all the gossip. He's always hearing some baseless rumor that someone is cheating or MC got surgery done or whatever.

It pisses him off to hear people talk about his beautiful/handsome partner like that.

Whenever he gets the chance to show MC off, he does and he makes sure their outfits are to DIE for.

Congrats! MC will most likely be spoiled with a new fancy wardrobe. (He would do this with any serious partner but it's AMPLIFIED with an extra attractive MC)

Whatever they need for their skincare or whatever routine they need. He'll take care of it. Just give him a list and he'll get someone on it ASAP.

TOHMA ISHIBASHI

The ego boost this man gets! OH MAH GOD!

He's not shy and he knows what he's about so he's not necessarily flustered, but he's definitely proud to land such an amazing looking partner.

A lot of others start referring to MC as royalty once they start dating, they start it sarcastically of course but when Tohma hears it, he flips it right on its head.

I mean like, using it to fluster MC: bowing, taking their coat, carrying things, etc (again, he'd be doing that stuff anyways) but he would take the time to fluster MC at the same time.

What i mean is like kissing the back of their palm and whispering against their skin something along the lines of,

"Only the best for my Prince/my Princess/ your Majesty/etc"

KAITO FUJI

Kaito does not know how the hell he got here with them but he doesn't give a single fuck.

He will spend the first part of this new relationship in all of the self doubt, because In his mind, this could be a prank or some kind of mistake. But when MC shows him that, no baby girl this isn't a mistake..? Mans here thinks he's died and that MC really is his guardian angel.

He will try to spend what money he has to try and spoil them how he thinks they deserve. He's just really trying his best.

When Frostheim throws their fancy ass balls, Kaito is BEAMING with pride. Yeah, he's on the arm of the best looking person here! Eat it!

And when they dance with him, there is so much internal screaming going on. He's worried he's gonna mess up and make MC look dumb, but with some time he'll loosen up and have some fun.

LUCAS ERRANT "LUCA"

Okay, another one with gossip. But its surprising not about the relationship itself. Its about each individual.

I think Luca and MC have separate fan clubs. I'm sure We've all seen that Luca has fans at the school. an extra attractive MC for sure has one too.

It all started with the two fanclubs talking shit about the other and spreading rumors. Like the usual rumors about cheating, or about how they don't deserve the other, etc.

However, there is a small part in each club that joined forces to try and spread gossip to break them up.

Ofc it doesn't work, Luca and his partner trust each other and do their best to communicate, so it doesn't really effect the happy couple all too much. I mean if you're gonna be subjugating a demon together, there's a LOT of mutual trust going on there.

ALAN MIDO

Alan would be a bit more protective of his partner, because in his experience (*cough cough* LEO *COUGH*) more attractive people, aren't really fighters.

If and when MC manages to prove themselves capable in a fight, he'll back off a little bit, but he'll still be a little protective.

He'd try to do things he thinks MC would like, that he's not the most comfortable with. Like fancier dates, dressing up, going out, etc.

If MC wants to squash that, they gotta do it RIGHT AWAY, since in his mind, they're more attractive so they've gotta like the fancier stuff...right?

SHOHEI HAIZONO "SHO"

Sho is a guy who will take them out for rides on Bonnie (his bike) but he doesn't really care about their appearance.

Sure its a plus and all, but he doesn't care if their hair looks really good today, they're wearing a damn helmet when they go on rides.

He figures MC knows their stuff when it comes to appealing design, so he values their opinion on his project (those who know, know). He takes all their critiques on the chin and does his best to listen.

its still his so he won't let them change it entirely, but he'll for sure keep it in mind.

LEO KUROSAGI

Okay if you think Luca and Jin fans were wildin, Leo's fanclub is WAY worse.

To start off, Leo will do small things with MC. Probably not show their amazing face too much.

It's a mix between wanting to keep things as private as possible and keeping them all to himself.

The internet being the internet, someone eventually got a pic of them together and people figured out that MC was this mysterious partner that Leo has been hiding.

Once the secret is out, he's full on bringing them into his content, like get ready with me's, matching outfit checks, etc.

On the down side, there's a LOT of MC haters out there. Leo typically ignores those comments, he figures their just jealous (of him or MC im not sure)

But if anyone even TRIED to threaten or do his MC. they're done. Their reputation might as well be in the trash. Leo is absolutely not above blackmailing someone to get what he wants so good luck to whoever fucked up that bad.

#tokyo debunker #frostheim #headcanons #Vagastrom #jin kamurai #tokyo debunker headcanons #tohma ishibashi #kaito fuji #luca #lucas errant #alan mido #shohei haizono #sho #leo kurosagi

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