#but he really is so down bad it's not even a joke

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

[moonstruckme]

I used to be a camp counselor and I just know James is the exact kind of guy the little kids would fight to sit next to at activities. And! He tells the most dramatic campfire stories

Hi! I realize this wasn't really a request but it gave me an idea, so thank you lovely!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

“Then,” James says in a low, solemn voice, “Timmy heard the monster getting louder. Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?” 

All around you, campers sit with bated breath. When the last counselor to go had told her story, they’d all been whispering to each other, giggling and messing around as they tend to do whenever anyone is speaking. Anyone except James, apparently. 

“Timmy ran to the only place left to hide.” He walks slowly around the logs you and the kids sit on as he talks, the orange glow of the fire casting his face in a merry hue despite his foreboding tone. You can tell he’s trying his best to play the part, and James isn’t the worst actor in the world, but anytime he looks at one of the kids’ faces the twitching of his lips betrays him. 

He crouches next to an apprehensive-looking girl and says to her, “He squeezed into the closet in the basement and made himself as small as he could. Just like that.” James pokes the girl’s curled up form teasingly, drawing a smile out of her. His lips twitch again. 

“For a minute,” he stands, beginning to circle again, “it was quiet. Then, Timmy heard the monster coming down the stairs.” James stomps his feet on the dirt, making dull thudding sounds that have you smiling and your camper next to you gripping your arm apprehensively. “The monster got closer and closer. Timmy was trapped.” 

James is nearly behind you, and the girl holding your arm whispers, “Does the monster live close to here?” 

“No, no.” You keep your voice low, bending your head towards hers with your most reassuring smile. “This monster’s all the way in Florida. Don’t worry.” 

“And when Timmy could hear the monster’s breath just outside the closet,” James goes on, though you’re not really paying attention, more focussed on comforting the poor girl beside you, “it asked again, Do you KNOW—” His voice rises to a shout, and big hands grab your waist, making you squeak loudly. James’ hold is the only thing that keeps you from flinching fully out of your seat, and you can hear him snickering quietly behind you as the kids erupt in laughter. 

“Do you know,” he tries again, amusement coating his tone, “what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?” 

He lowers himself onto his haunches, speaking to the girl next to you. “And do you want to guess what Timmy said?” he asks her, both hands still on your waist. 

She shakes her head, giggling. 

“Well, he said no, obviously.” James grins as if this is a joke you’re all in on together. “How would he know? So the monster said, I’ll show you.” 

James gives your waist a teasing squeeze as he lets you go, but his face smooths into seriousness again, one hand coming slowly up to his mouth. The kids near you are craning their necks to see him. 

Lightning quick, James sticks a finger in front of his lips, flapping up and down as he blows out and makes a vibrating sound. 

The silence breaks as the kids either laugh or boo or a mix of both, one of James’ campers shouting, “That wasn’t even scary!” 

“It was too!” James feigns offense, setting a hand on your head and banding his forearm across your collar protectively. “Don’t say that, you’ll make y/n feel bad. Poor love,” he says sympathetically, resting his head on your shoulder, “she was really terrified.” 

“Did you pee yourself?” one of the campers near you asks. You turn to her, making a silly face. 

“I think maybe a little,” you whisper loudly, causing the kids to devolve into giggles again. 

“Oh, ew.” James makes a show of removing his hands from you and wiping them on the back of your shirt. The campers eat it up, your small clearing in the woods a cacophony of laughter and cricket sounds. You catch some of the other counselors rolling their eyes, some exchanging knowing smiles. 

“Well, I suppose that’s fair enough,” James goes on. “I nearly peed myself, too, when I thought you were going to fall off your log there.” He shoots you one of his winning smiles. “Good thing you had me to catch you, yeah?” 

You feel your face warm, and you’re grateful for the glow of the campfire as cover. “Mhm,” you say, “good thing.” 

#camp counselor!james potter #james potter au #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #marauders era #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I had an idea for a request! I was thinking about reader with a really low sex drive and maybe one day she starts to get a little worried and insecure about it and one of the boys just reassures her that he doesn’t care about it<3 idk if that made sense but write for whatever boy you want to I don’t have a preference love you 😚

How Remus, James and Sirius would comfort you when you worry your low libido is a problem. fem, 2.2k

❥ Remus 

Remus sits with his legs crossed in the corner of the settee, a book open on his thigh, though his attention has been caught and kept by the TV. 

You think some grovelling may be in order after last night. Quiet, you round the settee and climb onto the seat next to his, body turned away from the TV, arm creeping onto his thigh. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi.” 

He encourages you closer, leaning back to give you room to lie on him. His right arm does most of the work to keep you up, sandwiching you to his chest, an almost not quite hug. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“How do you know something is wrong?” 

He taps your back with his fingers, looking up at the ceiling with a sarcastic smile. “What could it be?” 

The hints of green in his irises are more pronounced when he’s sitting in the sun like this, rays cutting in through the window, turning his pale skin slightly tanned and his hair a warmer chestnut colour that curls behind his ears. The scar on his lip relaxes as his joking smile fades to a proper one, a lovey-dovey type that melts you. It’s nice to be looked at so nicely, like just the sight of you inspires happiness. 

You shift off of your legs, deciding you might as well lay flat with your head in his lap instead. He lets you sink down. His hand takes up station near your cheek, the back of his curled fingers brushing the skin just shy of your eye. 

“This is nice,” he whispers. 

“I have to say sorry,” you whisper back, drawing shapes into his t-shirt, the soft muscle of his stomach pillowy to poke. 

Remus nods emphatically. “Yes, you didn’t come and see me as soon as you woke up. I heard you on your phone in bed. That’s not very nice, is it, depriving me of your company?” 

You shake your head into his thigh, a slow, guilty movement. “No, about last night.” 

“What about last night?” 

Last night, Remus had given you a very slow kiss. He’d been half asleep and you’d been more so, but it was a lovely kiss and his hand had been rubbing sweet half circles into your hip, but it still made you feel awful when he asked if he could touch you and you’d told him you were too tired, even if he didn’t mind. He’d just kissed your cheek and snuggled into you like a life-sized teddy bear. He never takes your rejection as an insult. 

“You… you wanted to fuck and I didn’t, I’m sorry. I feel like every time you ask lately I say no.” 

Remus frowns at you. Deep frown, eyebrows pinching and brown eyes bordering sullen. His fingers uncurl over your cheek and cover your ear as he cups your face. “I don’t want you to be sorry. The reason I ask is so you can say no, you can always say no.” 

“I kiss you, and I wind you up, and then I can’t–”

“Which I enjoy. You don’t have to worry about that.” He leans down to kiss you but doesn’t fully get there, your noses touching, and then he’s leaning away again. “Please don’t say sorry. You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know that. I’m not trying to make you into the bad guy.” 

Remus taps your nose with his and leans in again. “I know you’re not. You aren’t one either. Sex is just another fun thing to do, okay? If you don’t want to, that shouldn’t bother me, and it doesn’t. I promise.” 

You curl your arms around his neck. He lifts his head, subsequently lifting you as he moves, his arm curling behind your back for a hug. 

“Sometimes I want more of you than you want to give,” he says, “but it’s just because I love you, not because I need it. Don’t be silly, dove. Don’t say sorry.” 

He presses the heel of his palm to your back and begins the heavy pressure of a back rub. You won’t say sorry if he doesn’t want you to. You shouldn’t anyways. But he’s your boyfriend and you love him, so his being accepting of it is a relief. 

Like he can read your mind, he says, “You never have to say sorry for this.” 

“I know.” You lift your chin. “Kiss?” 

Remus kisses you quickly before tucking you into his neck for a long hug. 

❥ James

“You’re beautiful.” 

You’re boiling. James doesn’t notice, kissing and kissing and kissing, your neck flushed with his touch and his murmured compliment. “James.” 

He tilts his head, weaving in on the other side of your neck to give it the same loving treatment. “Pretty doesn’t cover it,” he says in a rush, his teeth scratching dully up to your jaw, his kissing like nips without any pain behind them as he reaches your cheek. 

You catch his face in your hands and push him away gently. It’s so hot in here you can’t breathe, and you’re not in the mood for any further action. It’s funny. You adore his kisses and James is undeniably a good fuck, but your libido is low no matter how pretty your boyfriend is, or how pretty he finds you. You’d always wondered if that meant there was something wrong with you. 

James doesn’t seem to think so. 

“Sorry,” he says, beaming, “that’s enough, right?” 

You feel a weird sharp stab in your chest. “Sorry?” 

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” James sits up where he’d been lying on top of you, having manoeuvred such a position in the midst of all his warm kisses. He sits back on his calves, kneeling in the space between your legs, a hand falling instead to your knee. “It’s fucking hot in here, isn’t it?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Did you make it hot?” 

You look at your hand on your chest. He’s noticed you don’t want to take it any further, you hardly ever do. You knew he’d see that eventually. You have the libido of a panda, where James is an athletic young man who loves you. 

“No, I mean. I’m sorry, because I never want to when you want to.” 

Your serious tone surprises him. “Baby, what the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. “I am so lost.” 

“Just– Most of the time when you try to sleep with me I turn you down. You know already.” 

“Baby, that doesn’t matter.” He leans in again, only to hold your wrists, two big hands curled around your arms to stop your fidgeting. Two pet names in quick succession is unlike him, and it relaxes you before he’s begun to explain. “It doesn’t matter at all. Just makes it better when we do manage to want it at the same time.” 

You grimace. “Are you sure?” 

“You want me to be honest?” 

You’re not sure. “Yeah. Please be honest.” 

“Sometimes we kiss and you know I want you,” his eyes dart down, prompting a surprised laugh from you, and an easy chuckle from him in return, “and it’s frustrating, but it’s not ‘cos of you. I can go shower and sort myself out and it’s not the same as being with you, but it’s not your fault. It’s just a reaction.” 

“But I feel bad for making you deal with it yourself.” 

“What are you supposed to do? You can’t force yourself if you’re not in the mood. That’s the last thing I want you to do. I’d rather have it fall off.” 

You laugh again. James’ smile is glowing, and warm as he presses it to your wrist in a chaste kiss. “We can do other things. If you feel that badly about it, you can give me a scalp massage, please. You shouldn’t feel badly about it, but still. If you’re okay with it, I’d love one.” 

He presses his cheek to your chest in want of your hand. 

You press your fingertips to his hairline and weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair, shaking them, nails scratching lightly at his scalp like you know he likes. “How’s that?” you ask. 

“Better than sex.” He is unmistakably sincere. 

❥ Sirius 

“Did you lock the door?” 

Sirius hums. 

“Close the kitchen window?” 

“I did,” he says, waving your hand gently where he’s holding it between you both. You lay straight in bed with the duvet up to your chests and the TV playing one of his favourite movies. 

“Okay. Did you take your medication?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Everything’s done. You can relax.” 

You pick your book up and open it to the first page. You’ve been meaning to read this one for a while, you’re happy to get the time, but you’re feeling queasy about something. 

Sirius is a loud guy. He loves the glitz and glamour of life, he likes to go out, play fast and hard, he’s electric most of the time. He can be quiet, too, like you tend to be, but you’re worried that you’re another night closer to him deciding he’s bored. It’s been weeks since you went anywhere, and you haven’t fucked in almost as long. 

“Can I have this?” he asks, pulling your hand to his lips. 

You smile as he kisses your knuckles, barely there presses of his lips to your skin that linger. 

“You haven’t turned a page yet.” 

“It’s hard to start,” you tell him. 

“What’s it about? Fantasy?” 

“No, just a romance, I think.” 

“I like your romances. You read the complicated ones with the good love, like ours.” 

It’s a very nice thing to say, even if you’re not sure how he knows what romance you’re reading. He enjoys listening to you talk about books when they’re done, so perhaps the details have sunk in.

You let the book flop to the side and curl up around your joined hands. “I love you,” you say. 

He curls into you in return, “You should. That was a good line,” he says teasingly. “I love you too, my girl.” He speaks it with a quiet, gentle cadence that suits him and the pet name well. “Lift your head. Wanna see you.” 

You angle your face up to give him a view of the half that isn’t hidden by the sheets. “I’m so boring.” 

“Says who?” 

“Everybody, probably. All we do is watch TV and sleep.” 

“Good thing I love both of those things.” He wraps an arm around you, palm to your shoulder. “And it’s not true. We went to the cafe yesterday after work. On the weekend, we’re going to the cinema. Why, do you want to do more?” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Siri. Aren’t you bored?” 

He stares at you. Long, non-judgmental looking, his dark lashes kissing in the corners as his gaze wanders down to your neck. “Is this about something else?” 

“No.” 

His mouth turns sympathetic, a wobbly frown. “Are you sure, lovely? You can talk to me.” 

You weigh each word as you say it, determined not to embarrass yourself, “I’m worried that I don’t make your life very interesting. We don’t go out much, we don’t drink, and I never…” 

You turn your face down, your forehead to his chest. Sirius hums unhappily and encourages your head back to see you again almost immediately. “You never what?” he asks. 

“Never mind.” 

“No, please. Tell me, Y/N. You can tell me anything, I won’t care.” He’s getting so serious about it and it’s making it even more embarrassing than before, but you don’t want him to worry. You spit it out. 

“I don’t put out. We hardly ever have sex.” 

“Does that upset you?” he asks. 

“Well. It upsets me if it upsets you.” 

“It doesn’t.” His hand cups your cheek, his forehead drops down to yours. “It doesn’t upset me. Did I make you think that?” 

“You’re just so cool and I’m your loser.”

He laughs happily. “You’re my loser,” he agrees. 

“The last couple of times I’ve said no. I guess I just worry you want more than I’m giving out, so. I don’t want you to wish we were having more sex, but I can’t make myself want it more.” 

“I see.” 

You listen to him breathing, the warmth of his exhale like a kiss all its own as it fans over your mouth.

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Can I tell you what I think?” You nod, and he continues, “I only want to have sex with you, that’s one of the consequences of being in love. It’s a good one. So if you don’t wanna have sex, it’s safe to say I don’t want to either. Okay? Love you just as much with or without it.” 

Unlike him and not to be this tender. You bite the inside of your lip.

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise.” 

#the marauders #marauders #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fic #sirius black fic #james potter fic #the marauders x reader #the marauders x fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter

[offthepages]

And so, the stars aligned. Pt 6

Azriel x Archeron!sister Reader

Summary: Lunch with Tamlin goes about expected. And Azriel is a jealous man. Warnings: None!

Ageless and Minors DNI

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Masterlist

Requests are open! a/n: I forgot to link the dress and stuff for part five- and maybe it's cringe to do that. But I am cringe, and I am free... and very bad at describing clothing. So here's the dress, and makeup

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After Tamlin, the ball was a blur. Truly, so much wine and dancing had your head spinning in a way that you had never experienced before. It left you feeling light as a feather, as giggly as a school girl. Much to the Inner Circle's delight because you found them hilarious. Cassian was making jokes left and right, making you laugh so hard you had to hold onto Azriel for stability. In your drunken state, you missed the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. Watching you with your sisters, which the only one who remained sober by the end of the night was Nesta. But Cassian drank in her stead. Leaving you Feyre, and him up to no good. However, Azriel hadn't let you leave his side since Tamlin had asked you to lunch. Even when you tried to lose him, his shadows were far more protective of you than he was. It was sweet to see the way the tendrils wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you back into his side. You would look up at him with a pout. "Azriel!" You'd whine. "Tell them to let me go!"

He took a sip of his drink, trying to hide his smirk. "Sorry, princess. They have a mind of their own." He was even more satisfied when you looked at the shadows surrounding the two of you.

"You big meanies. I'm not gonna pet you if you keep acting up!" You drunkenly scolded. Azriel quirked an eyebrow when the shadows slithered away from your finger. Chuckling lowly, he wrapped his arm around your waist. And the Illyrian took pride in the way Tamlin's gaze hardened as he watched the two of you, He debated a gentle gasp as you reached one of your delicate hands reached up and touched his face. Pulling the shadowsingers gaze down. Watching you talk about something you just saw, learning that you were more observant than you let on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

But now, he found himself arguing with a brick wall it seemed. “Y/n, I understand you have pure intentions but you can not sleep in my room.” He tried to explain softly, gently. His hands on your shoulders. Willing every part of him to behave because there was nothing he’d love more than to have you in his bed. Even just holding you for the night would make his heart soar. To be the last thing you saw, and the first thing.

“No!” You huff, arms crossed as you looked up at him. Rosey cheeks, your hair mused from dancing, your pout undeniably adorable. “I wanna sleep in here. Because you are nice, and you are warm! Mor snores!” You throw your hands up, loosing your balance as you flop onto the bed. “See the bed wants me here.”

Azriel laughs softly. Shaking his head, he knew he loved you. He really did. And normally he’d be flattered his mate was so sweet. But now, now it was an issue. Because he had to defy all of his primal tendencies to oblige your every wish. He scoops you up gently. Your head falling to his chest, lightly your fingers caress the tattoos of his that peak out. Azriel suppresses a shiver. “Come on princess. Let’s get you to bed.” He whispers, crossing the hallway. Earning snickers from the rest of his family. All of which he glared at, only stopping when he reached your room.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The morning was spent nursing your hang over. Feyre, you and Cassian curled up on the couch being babied by everyone. Well- Rhys, Azriel and Nesta. Azriel had even gone as far as giving you some of the headache powder he got from Elian. You could have kissed him.

But now, you were back in your bedroom getting ready for lunch with Tamlin. Nesta brushing your hair, and she was much less gentle than Feyre. She didn’t care about delicately brushing out the snarls, she would just shush you when you protested. But eventually your hair had been braided into one large braid down your back. Mor placed flowers in the braid as Nesta worked on your makeup again. Dolling you up, despite your protests. “Stop wriggling, Y/n.” Nesta chides as she grabs your chin to force you to look at her. You huff, “I don’t want to look good for Tamlin!” You protest again. Trying to move away before Nesta forces you back. Her blue/grey eyes looking at you with an intensity that would have made anyone else wither.

“You have too. Looking like a goddess while you chip away at his frail little ego will just make It hurt worse. And that’s what you want. You want him to know that he can’t have you. But this is what he’s missing.” She explains, barely giving you time to recover as she brushes on a light pink eyeshadow, adding a golden shimmer on top of it.

In the end, you wore a simple pink gown. Something that was sweet, innocent. Like the princesses in the fairytales you read with Azriel. Your shoulders laid bare, the sleeves were short- frilly. The sweetheart neckline doing little to hide your frame. The front corset, designed with small intricate roses on it. You spun, the dress poofing upwards. You hated to admit it. But you would be happy to break Tamlin’s heart in it. In this dress you looked as if you belonged in the Spring Court. So to deny his offer? It be poetic. Nesta wore a simple gown with you as well, her’s a more diluted green. She’d looked out of place next to the vibrant colors of the spring court. But you and your sister descended the stairs, everyone waiting for you once again. You smiling softly at all of them. Azriel’s eyes never left yours. You could have killed him, and he would have thanked you. Truthfully. You looked like a day dream walking down the stairs. Smiling at them like you weren’t about to walk into the lions den. He would have followed you blindly anywhere. Gladly. With pleasure.

“Are you ready?” Rhys looks at you with a strained smile. You give a little nod.

“As ready as I can. I can deny him again right?” You anxiously ask Rhys, you knew he wanted an alliance with Tamlin. And your brother in law might be a snake sometimes, but you were almost positive he wouldn’t force you on dates. Rhys shakes his head, “No. You won’t have to see him again after this. Unless you want to. And if words fail you again, that’s why you have Nesta.” He gives a nod to your older sister. Nesta takes your hand and gives a little squeeze.

Smiling appreciatively up at her, you felt ready to have this lunch. Tamlin wouldn’t get to you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You look beautiful, Y/n.” Tamlin bows, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. You have to stop yourself from recoiling at his touch, but the cooling feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles again helps calm you. Keep you grounded, quickly flicking your eyes up to where Azriel told you he’d be- tucked away in the shadows of the garden. You smiled. The shadows gave you a gentle squeeze back. Azriel, already wanted to kill Tamlin. But seeing the way he made you recoil? It made his blood boil. The only saving grace for Tamlin touching his mate was the fact Azriel knew you wouldn’t be going home with him.

“Thank you.” You murmur as he leads you to sit. A small intimate lunch. Just his seat, yours and Nesta’s. You had to force another smile at him as you sat. “Your Court is lovely.” You speak gracefully. “I hadn’t expected it to be so lush when we arrived.” Tamlin smiled and nodded.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He allowed the servants to come up and give you a plate of food. Small salads and sandwiches. All things that were light. “I suppose I have your sister to thank for that. After ruining my Court…and letting it go to ruin. I looked at it only to realize that I was still running it the way my father had. And I didn’t need to. So, I took control back and let myself rebuild.” He explains to you, and you can see the sparkle in his eye as he does. He was truly happy, and he meant the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m glad.” You offer, “I didn’t agree with her actions…but sometimes there is necessary evils that must take place for peace to prosper.” You give Tamlin your own gentle smile.

And conversation continues from there. Nothing out of place, or out of pocket. Tamlin even spoke to Nesta a few times, though Nesta just responded with pointed looks.

Azriel approved.

But all said and done, Tamlin was a gentleman. You could see how Feyre fell from him, how you could have fallen for him. But every time that thought crossed your mind, the shadows that curled around your ankle tightened. And at one point when you leaned down to try and brush them away- getting lost in your day dream of what life would be like here. They appeared as shackles. Reminding you what Tamlin had done to your sister. You didn’t finish your food.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed at the way you pushed away the plate. He noted that you’d have to eat more before you out to the ball tonight.

“You had quite a bit of fun at the ball last night, no?” Tamlin asked, looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. Your cheeks heated, looking away from him as you nodded. A small chuckle from him pulled your gaze back. “No worries, that is what the night was for. I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself. You got home alright?”

Nesta scoffs. “If you’re implying that we’d let her wonder your courts drunker than a skunk you’d be wrong.” You lightly kick her shin. “She went home with us, slept alone in her own bed. You needn’t worry about her maidenhood or anything of the sorts.” You felt your face heat again at her words as you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat. You felt exposed, embarrassed…you didn’t want to be here anymore. The feeling unknowingly being pushed down the bond. Azriel gritted his teeth, but kept quiet. Trying to push a sense of calm down the bond to you.

The cooling sensation of shadow washed up and down your leg. Gently trying to coax your fears down. You could have cried in relief to feel something so normal. But that relief was quickly taken as Tamlin stiffed. “I simply wanted to ensure she was safe. I implied nothing about her maidenhood. Nor do I care if it was intact or not. Feyre’s wasn’t.”

You felt a surge of anger from deep within. “That is my sister.” You say sharply. Glaring at Tamlin. “And my High Lady. Be careful how you speak of her.”

Tamlin’s eyes bore into yours as his nose wrinkles in disgust. “Tell me y/n. Would you require me to crown you High Lady?”

You felt the shadows grow still at his question. Azriel held his breath, if you had said yes? Did that mean you wanted to be a high lady? Something he couldn’t give you? Nesta’s eyes watching you intently. “I would require nothing of you.” You say simply, nodding your head to him. “Because I will not be with you- nor should a partner require another partner to value them. You shouldn’t have to ask for those things. If I truly mattered to you- and you say you have changed. Then making me a High Lady would be no different than seeing me as your equal.” You look to Nesta. “I wish to leave.”

Nesta’s mouth curls up into a smile. She stands and looks at Tamlin. “Thank you for your kindness.” Before offering you a hand, and you quickly take it. Not looking back at Tamlin. Azriel had never more proud.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As soon as you were out of ear shot from Tamlin, Azriel appeared. Taking you in his arms and holding you tightly. The shadows wrapping around you two, and from your place- buried in his neck you felt his wings wrap around you too. ”You did such a good job…” He whispers into your hair. He reveled in the way your shoulders unclenched and held onto him tighter. Your whole body practically falling into his, soaking up his warmth and comfort.

”I wanna go back to the cottage.” You whisper. Before you know it, your feet are off the ground. Moving through shadows as you winnow back.

Azriel doesn’t let you go. Bringing you back up to his room, in his defense. Nesta motioned her head to do so, so he figured she’d go fill in Rhys. Opening his door, he gently laid you on the bed. Going to back up and let you rest- but you reached out to him. “Don’t go…not yet.” You whisper as you look at him with pleading eyes. And he is a weak man. Especially after seeing you with another male today. He had no choice but to crawl into bed with you, tucking you under his arm as he runs his thumb over your temple. “Thank you…” Your voice is soft, your eyes closed as you relax further into him. Azriel prays to the Mother that you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He says quietly. Using the shadows to pull a blanket up and around you too. “I didn’t do anything.”

You shake your head, sitting up a little to look at him. “The shadows. They gave me strength. Reminded me that I wasn’t going to be free with Tamlin when my mind wondered. Your shadows gave me the strength to speak my mind. So thank you.”

Azriel smiles at you, cupping your cheek as he looks at you with a sincerity in his eyes. “My shadows didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have. You are strong Y/n. Don’t forget that.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now, I can feel it in my old bones. You need a nap.” He pulls you down into him. Laughing quietly at his actions you settle in for a nap. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: The next part will have another part at the ball!! I wasn't sure if I should have added it to this part or not...but let me know what you guys think! If you wanna be added to the taglist- click here! taglist: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @oucereeng @bunnyredgirl @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61 @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @thewulf @st4r-girl-official @nightsbite @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @naturakaashi

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #nesta archeron #tamlin

[minswriting]

AARON HOTCHNER NSFW ALPHABET

warnings: NSFW content, MDNI, dominant aaron, thigh kink, breeding kink,

A = After Care

aaron is so good at aftercare! he’ll check in on you emotionally to see how you’re doing before examining your body to see if you have any bruises forming. he’s sweet and kind, takes his time to really make you feel okay.

B = Body Part

aaron has two favorite body parts of himself. he loves his arms and holding you. but he also loves his voice. the assertiveness, the dominance that he accentuates with his words, he thrives off of it. on you, he loves your hair and your thighs. he loves to play with your hair or tug on it. but he also loves playing with your thighs. or fucking them.

C = Cum

when aaron cums, it’s legit erupting from his cock. and it has everything to do with the fact that he’s traveling most of the time and is stressed 24/7. he has a massive breeding kink too so when he’s fucking you for the first time in what feels like weeks, he’ll cum inside of you and literally fill you up to the brim.

D = Dirty Secret

aaron definitely has a daddy kink that he does not talk about at all because he’s too shy.

E = Experience

he’s only ever been with haley (they met in high school right?) but he had taken his time to know her body and to know female pleasure. so his experience is top tier. he KNOWS pleasure.

F = Favorite Position

i feel like hotch has a lot of favorite positions but he absolutely adores bending you over the desk while he takes you from behind, pulling your hair in the process. he also loves fucking you the same way in front of a mirror or in a very intimate sexual position.

G = Goofy

i don’t think aaron is goofy during sex unless you’re both really tired but need relief. when the two of you are so tired or even drunk, you’re giggling, laughing, crack a joke or two.

H = Hair

he’s either really well groomed or it’s wild down there. there is no in between. it truthfully just depends on his time and if he has time to make himself groomed.

I = Intimacy

sex with aaron is so intimate and it’s so intense. he’s the type to pound his cock inside of you so hard all while muttering praises into your ear about how beautiful you are and how well you’re taking him. all while he’s holding your hand.

J = Jack Off

aaron does not jerk off often. every once in a blue moon. however, he loves to do it when the two of you are on the phone and you’re just talking about your day. he definitely gets off to the sound of your voice and you’re more than okay with that.

K = Kink

honestly he has so many so here is a list lol

degradation, praise, sir kink, daddy kink, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, choking, hair pulling, and so many many more.

L = Location

i think he prefers to do it in the bedroom of all places but man does he LOVE fucking you in his office. whether it’s his office at work (which is rare because of how risky it is) or his office at his house. bending you over the desk and taking you is just top tier for him.

M = Motivation

you. always you. but also being super stressed is definitely a motivation.

N = No

he would never engage with blood play (unless you’re on your period. he will fuck you on your period) nor would he do anything to hurt you too bad. the most he will do is spank and choke you.

O = Oral

LOVES GIVING IT AND RECEIVING IT! he never asks for head simply because he gets off on your pleasure. but if you just drop to your knees, he’s never going to say no because it feels so good. he’s extremely good at giving it tho too. he is such a munch and will suck on your clit, lick your slit, etc.

P = Pace

his pace is usually hard, fast, and rough. he loves rough sex. but if he’s slow, his pace would be slow but hard, and it would be more romantic. pls i need his dick lol

Q = Quickie

he doesn’t prefer quickies. he prefers to take his time with you, making you cum at least three times in one session. however, he enjoys quickies occasionally, especially if it’s right before he has to go to work or it’s after he had come back.

R = Risk

he isn’t a HUGE risk taker but he would definitely dabble in office sex at least once or twice. but only when he’s sure no one else is in the bureau. other than that, he only fucks you at his house or your house.

S = Stamina

he usually only lasts for one long round but sometimes he can do two. it depends on how tired he is at that time.

T = Toys

i feel like he definitely has a flesh light. and when he fucks it, he imagines it’s your pussy. he is also perfectly okay with you having toys as well. especially because he can punish you with your dildo, not allowing you to have the real thing.

U = Unfair

hotch can be so unfair. he loves punishing you. especially if you’ve been particularly bratty. he will deny you orgasm, exclaiming that orgasms are only for good girls who listen when told what to do. he leaves overstimulation for when you’ve been really good for him.

V = Volume

i don’t think aaron makes a lot of noise. however, he definitely grunts and talks you through it. he’ll give praise or he’ll degrade you. regardless, he’s not a moaner. but he still talks!

W = Wild Card

you’d definitely have some sort of voice kink. and aaron would use this tone of voice that’s soft spoken but still authoritative while having sex that you can’t help but look in his eyes, captivated by his voice.

X = X-Ray

🥰🥰🥰 aaron’s cock is about seven inches but man he is GIRTHY!! his cock will stretch you out, filling you up in ways you’ve never felt before.

Y = Yearning

like many men, aaron is almost always down for sex. however, it’s not a priority to him. he prioritizes quality time over sex. however that in no way means you guys rarely have sex. he likes to have sex with you at least three times a week.

Z = ZZZ

personally, i think he’s very sleepy after sex. but he will always engage in aftercare before going to sleep.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine

[gabessquishytum]

Dream has been hearing rumors (those biddies love to gossip about Dream's family) that Orpheus has gotten into an inappropriate relationship. Something, something "sugar baby", something, something f*cking an older man.

Dream doesn't want to interfere in Orpheus's life, but the Endless family, and Dream himself, have money, not as much as in their storied past, but enough that Orpheus doesn't have to whore out his young ass for money.

Dream isn't even judging, he just want his son not to make mistakes similar to the ones that Dream made in his youth. Dream knows how seductive those older men can be....hell Dream is still young himself (not a twink anymore certainly, but Dream had Orpheus young, so he doesn't look like the father of a college student.).

Suffice to say, Dream learns the name of the man supposedly paying for Orpheus's ass and goes to see him, maybe he can warn him off Orpheus. R. Gadling has something like 10 or 15 years on Dream, hopefully Dream can get him to see reason.

💶 💶 💶 💶 💶

Hob would have liked it to be known, if he was interested in talking to those judgmental society b*tches, that he does not need to pay a young man for sex. Thank you very much. He might like to take care of his lovers, but so far he draws the line at 30-year age differences. He is not that much of a creeper.

Orpheus is a fantastic young man, a musical prodigy, and Hob knows some people in the industry. All he did was offer introductions, that Orpheus, with his gift, would have most likely developed on his own, in time. He is not sleeping with a boy young enough to be his son,,,his son Robin introduced them for goodness sake!

When Orpheus's father comes to Hob is high dungeon, judgingly talking about inappropriate relationships and all but screaming at Hob, in his beautiful deep voice, for Hob to stop sleeping with his son -- Hob might have fallen in love on the spot. Blush high on his cheeks, hair a mess, looking like he just woke up from a good f*ck, Hob wanted to bite.

And mess with him a little,,,,,Hob offered (jokingly he thought) to stop sleeping with Orpheus if his father took his place in Hob's bed. He was expecting more yelling, not Morpheus Endless to say yes on the spot.

Oh Dream...... you poor little horny idiot. Trying so hard to be the best dad, but Orpheus is cringing SO hard.

Hob really was joking about exchanging Orpheus for Morpheus, and then Dream goes ahead and looks so sincere and so sexy... but Hob isn't a bad person (not anymore) so he sighs and explains that it was a joke. He's not fucking anyone right now, especially not Dream’s kid. He is in fact in the middle of a very long dry spell, and yes he might be going into too much detail now but at least Morpheus looks like he believes him. He sighs and smoothes down his hair and Hob is almost disappointed to see that anger fade away. Morpheus does at least blush prettily and say "call me Dream", so that's. A nice development.

And then Dream asks if Hob was joking about wanting to sleep with him, and if he thinks that Dream is too old to be a sugarbaby? Because he'd actually be willing to give it a try... And he says it in this teasing, flirty way that goes right to Hob’s dick. He's desperately hoping that his dryspell might finally be over. But he's going to have to pull out all the stops and really woo this delicious man.

Before Dream knows it, he's being whisked off to Hob’s box at the opera for a night of champagne and beautiful music. Hob explains that he doesn't take just anyone up to his box - only pretty boys that he really wants to spoil. Dream nearly melts into a puddle over being called a "boy". And yes, he's still relieved when Hob confirms that he never took Orpheus for a night at the opera.

Apparently Dream’s penchant for older guys really hasn't faded away, because he's getting butterflies whenever Hob puts a hand on his back to guide him, or orders their drinks with polite authority. If Orpheus was fucking Hob, then Dream would absolutely be fighting his own son tooth and nail over this man. Dream is embarrassed by his own horniness but not enough to stop - maybe he's doesn't actually need a sugar daddy, but he sure as hell WANTS this one <3

#reluctant1lady #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw age gap

[chrissv4mp]

say you were tryna' make me laugh .❤️‍🩹

summary: matt lets it slip that he loves you and you try to tell him that he can't, that he needs to take it back.

pairing: fem!reader × bsf!matt sturniolo

warnings: angst, maybe some vulgar language, high-school au, etc.

a/n: PLEASEE i need billies new album now💔🙏 also this might be a potential series....👀👀

matt was your best friend, followed you every where you went and did everything you asked of him. you guys may have gotten into fights sometimes, but only small arguments.

he was perfect, and your other friends had always encouraged you to ask him out. but you never did, because you knew that he never really talked about that sort of stuff because of his social media presence.

and maybe it was also because you were a little scared to, because you saw yourself as unlovable and you couldn't bear to see the look of disgust on your bestfriends face if he rejected you.

you wouldn't be able to be around him anymore if he rejected you, it would be so awkward and wouldn't be at all how it used to be. your connection just wouldn't have that same spark.

"hey, dummy," matts voice erupted from behind you, and you turned to look over at him.

he took a seat next to yours at the small table in the corner of the cafeteria, smiling over at you as he set his tray down.

"hi, idiot," you laughed, cringing as you took a look at the cafeteria food, "seriously, you're gonna get food poisoning from that one day."

matt just shrugged, "well, i got to have a full stomach throughout the day or else i'll be tired during practice. and frankly, i do not want to get yelled at by coach williams."

he continued to grab the apple off his tray, biting into it.

"he's so scary, i don't know how you can even look him in the eyes." you said, and mayt chuckled.

"yeah, well, i've dealt with some scary people in the past."

you knew that was true, and you knew for a fact that he was talking about his ex-girlfriend, summer. she was such a bitch, always controlling matt and the things he did.

nodding, you went back to simple chatter like complaining about how your classes are way too long, and how the teachers don't care about their students.

both of you still remember when matt laughed at those jokes you made about the teachers back when he was dating summer. he still laughed even at his lowest times, even when he felt like dying.

his smile looked so sincere to others, yet only you could tell what was going on in his head, those bad thoughts. his anxiety had only gotten worse when him and summer became a thing.

whereas matt could never tell what was going on behind those eyes. you always kept your composure, making sure nobody got to you.

"catch!" that was the thing you had heard just before a football went flying in your direction.

it hit you straight in the face, and you stumbled to the ground, groaning as you held your cheek.

matt had watched as the boy who threw the ball begin to laugh, and his hands clenched into fists before rushing to your aid.

"y/n, are you okay?" he muttered, grabbing your hand and helping you back on your feet.

smiling at the boy, you nodded, "mhm, just my cheek hurts a little."

matt couldn't contain himself anymore, it was always that same dipshit who picked on you. this was his final straw.

leaving your side, matt went to grab the football before rushing over to the guy. before he could even comprehend what was happening, matt threw the ball at his face.

the tip of the football hit his nose, hard. with how close matt was and how much force he had put into the throw, it definitely broke the guy's nose.

"what the fuck?!" he whined, holding his bloodied nose as he shut his eyes tight.

you could only stand there, hands clasped over your mouth in shock at what matt had just done. he was never the type to have sudden outbursts like this, and he surely wasn't the type to confront someone.

"maybe fight someone of your gender next time, bud." matt smiled fakely, shoving the boys shoulder before returning to your side.

he hadn't said a word to you, he just interlaced your arms and began walking somewhere else in the courtyard.

when the two of you had settled in a more quiet area under a tree, matt finally spoke, "i'm sorry,"

"i guess i was just fed up with him always picking on you. and i mean, seriously, what fucking guy messes with a girl?" he scoffed, rubbing his knee as he looked down.

your lips curved into a small smile as you reached over to grab his hand. you slid your fingers between his, and they fit almost perfectly.

matt's face went pink, and he looked away with a smile.

"i know you just want to keep me safe matt, it's okay. don't be sorry." you said quietly, running your thumb over the top of his hand.

the sky was a soft orange, some pink blending in as the mountains covered the rest of it.

matt and yourself were sitting on a blanket at the park, waiting until it was dark to see the stars.

it was something the two of you did occasionally, and yet you never got bored of it. your conversations were always new and the stars had always seemed to be arranged differently.

matt couldn't help but get lost in the sight of the sun setting, his mind going completely blank.

"you never see a sunset in your life?" you joked quietly, and matt laughed as he looked over at you.

"be quiet," his hand ran over the soft fabric of the blanket, and suddenly all he could think about was you.

the sun set faster than you thought, and soon enough the stars were out. you and matt lay side by side as you stare up at the night sky, fixated on each and every little detail.

the silence was comforting and sweet, the feeling of matt being present beside you made you feel like there was some sense of security surrounding the two of you.

matt's lips parted, and he turned his head to state at you for a little. you seemed so lost in thought, so peaceful like this.

"what ya thinkin' about?" matt whispered, a smile creeping onto his face.

you shrugged before turning to look him in the eyes, "if i said it, it'd weird you out."

his smile became wider, and he turned his head to look back at the stars, "eh, i think if i told you what i was thinking about right now, you'd quite literally slap me."

chuckling, you continued to stare at matt, eyes flickering over all his features.

"really?" matt nodded in response, laughing.

"yep, now c'mon, your thought can't seriously be that bad. tell me, please?" he sounded like a little kid when he begged like this, and that was one of the reasons you loved being his friend.

you dragged your hands down your face, sighing exaggeratedly loud, "fine,"

"i was thinking about how different things would be if we hadn't met." you said, voice soft.

matt nodded, letting a few moments of silence pass by before speaking, "yeah? well, you'd probably be alone woth no joy in your life."

"shut up!" you laughed, punching his shoulder gently.

matt laughed, rolling onto his side to look at you closer.

"now it's your turn, kid." you muttered, smiling at him.

silence enveloped you two again, and this time you could feel a twinge of tension in the air between your two bodies.

he twiddled with his thumbs as his smile faded. he had been full of courage all day and now he couldn't even look at you.

was it really worth risking the friendship?

what if you hadn't felt the same way, what if you didn't love him.

he couldn't even believe the words that came out of his mouth next. they always say sooner is better than later, i guess.

"i love you, y/n." he said quickly, and you almost figured he was joking.

well, until you saw that look in his eyes. the look that he gave summer at the beginning of their relationship.

fuck.

your smile faded, and you just stared at the boy beside you.

matt tensed, his eyes going anywhere but to your own as he let you process what he said.

"you're lying," was all you could say at the moment.

matt's eyes snapped up to yours at the... accusation? he couldn't tell if it was a question or if you were accusing him.

he shook his head anyway, muttering a quiet disagreement, "i'm not."

"yes, you are, matthew. you can't actually love me," you raised your voice, sitting up as you stared down at him with wide eyes.

the brunette boy sat up next, tears welling in his eyes.

crying wasn't like him, he never cried.

you looked away before speaking up more, "take it back, please,"

he was just joking, he was surely gonna say he was trying to make you laugh. right?

no, he was never the type of guy to joke about stuff like this. he was in love with you, really.

matt shook his head again, sniffling as he wiped his eyes, "no, y/n. it's true."

"no, no. you didn't mean to say 'i love you'," your mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts.

why were you even making this such a big deal, it wasn't like you didn't love him as well. it's just that... you didn't want to.

you didn't want to love him because you knew how things like this went. the breakup would be 10x as hard as a normal one.

now you were both crying, and you hadn't even realized until a tear drop hit your bare knee.

"i'm sorry, fuck, i didn't mean to make you cry." matt apologized, his hands shaky as he reached out for you.

you couldn't help but fall into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder as you tightly wrapped your arms around his waist.

he muttered reassuring things as he rubbed your back, his voice sometimes cracking as he also cried.

this wasn't how the night was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to end up red-eyed in matt's arms.

you were supposed to be staring at the stars and talking nonsense.

now nothing was normal, you could never escape the fact that you loved him now.

"i have to go," you said, pulling away from his embrace to pack up your things.

matt stayed silent, deciding that was the best thing to do right now.

you left without another word, and it wasn't until you were halfway across the park that matt noticed you left your blanket.

his lips parted as he let out a quiet sob. lying back down on the blanket, he cried into it.

it was like you were hugging him, and just for a second he believed that you might be able to forgive him.

but then it faded as doubts came crashing into his mind again.

"i hate you," he muttered to himself, punching the grass once before wrapping himself back up in your blanket.

"i hate you, i hate you, i fucking hate you!" he yelled, sobbing.

. . .

tags: @cindylcuwho @55sturn @ryli3sworld @mattsneezing @voidghsts @films4sturni @h3arts4harry @freshloveee @raysmayhem-72 @imtalkinnonsense @chrissturnswife @cheriematt @mattyb4dominicans @freshloveforthefit

#Spotify #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris smut #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nicolas x reader #nick x reader

[i2sunric]

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE (s.jy) — TRAILER

pairing: rich boy!jake x reader (f)

summary: you knew jake was trouble as soon as he walked into the party, and despite that, the moment he proposed a deal to you, you sold your heart as you signed the contract.

warnings: making out, kissing, fake dating, bad relationship with parents, smut (??), fighting, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed and drugs, jake is rich as hell, reader has a nasty personality, (more to be added!)

published: coming soon

taglist: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted (comment to be added!)

Faint music was heard from afar, but the only sound you could concentrate on was the giggle of the guy sitting next to you. His dishevelled state did little to hide the handsomeness of his face.

“You really don’t give a single shit about the world?” Jake asked, shaking his head as if he could not believe you.

You just shrugged “Life’s too short to give a shit.” You took a sip from the can of beer “Besides, I’m still a teen only for..” You counted mentally “Like, two years, why should I care about anything now? Better partying.”

Jake laughed once again, perhaps the alcohol in his system making him feel better about the meeting he had to attend the next day— Shoot, he had completely forgotten about it.

The moonlight shone on your figure, making your skin seem brighter, your hair softer. Jake stared at you like you were a piece of art at a museum, to be worshipped.

His eyes fell on your small dress, a smirk spread on his face “Want to go on a date tomorrow?”

Your browns knitted “Wo, wo, wo.” You said, placing your hand between the two of you, “Aren’t you running a little?”

Jake licked his bottom lip, chuckling “Nothing serious, I just need you to fake being my girlfriend.”

At such statement, your brow raised “Why?” You asked and he stole the can from your hand, taking a sip as well.

You watched as he chugged down the liquid, his Adam apple in plain sight, making you feel a little light headed. He sighed and cleaned his mouth with his sleeve “You’re reckless, a free spirit and you look like you smoke weed in your free time.”

“Well damn, you got me.” You joked, snatching the can from his hands, “You’re everything my parents wouldn’t like.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You laughed and Jake got closer to your ear “Oh darling, you bet it is.”

You gulped, a shiver running through your spine “So, you just need me to meet you again tomorrow and be your fake girlfriend?” Jake nodded, “At least my acting classes won’t go to waste.”

Jake chuckled and nodded, caressing your thigh, his thumb brushing against your sensitive flesh “So… Will you help me anger my parents?”

You had no business accepting a drunken offer from the hot guy you made out with at a frat party, getting involved in his family matters and even fake dating him— But what could you do? You loved challenges.

“Deal.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen fics #jake #jake sim #sim jake #sim jaeyun #jake sim fics #sim jake fics #sim jaeyun fics #jake enhypen #sim jaeyun smut #jake aus #sim jake aus #sim jake scenarios #jake sim scenarios #sim jaeyun scenarios #jaeyun scenarios #jake scenarios #jake fic

[saelique]

FRIENDS 2 LOVERS WITH DAZAI OSAMU !¡

note : rlly short, I dunno what da heck ‘s dis :3

knowing dazai osamu was always like a rollercoaster. nothing really was ever boring with him. even when the two of you were teenagers to the time you’ve grown into adults, even if he had changed, life couldn’t seem more exciting.

from blowing up random cars to causing mischief and trouble for others for fun, even when the two of you sat down a random park and opened cans of cheap beer from a nearby 7eleven, it was still marvellous, with the dumb and stupid jokes he makes sometimes or when you open up to him about your feelings and vice versa.

or way back seven years when ozaki would make a statement about how the two of you acted like lovesick fools to her and you would wince and cringe at the thought of dating each other. to the time you actually confess to him and the two of you get together.

of course, it has its ups and downs, with his secrets, stupid dumb impulsive actions, and his bad habits. even when fights broke out in between you, he would always come back after a long walk at four am and apologise to you.

he made you feel all sorts of stuff, angry, upset, frustrated, but most of all, he makes you laugh.

so maybe that’s why you accepted his seemingly poorly planned : ‘ will you marry me ‘and the reason why you started crying at your wedding was because at least in this universe and lifetime, you were lucky enough to meet someone like him.

I ‘ave no idea what dis ‘s pls dnt ask :x

#౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ : novels ! #dazai x reader #x reader fluff #fluff #Bsd x reader fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader fluff #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai fluff #dazai bsd #bsd dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs

[sparklings-bf]

5 years !!!

me and baldi's anniversary <33<3

(beware. long personal gush under cut)

pouring my heart out into this one. i am Sorry

today marks 5 years since the day i started shipping with baldi for the first time<3

i'm surprised that after so long I'm still very in love with him but I could not be happier about it. to think that it all started out as a silly thing among my friends where i was joking about him being my husband to considering him an actual serious f/o is so weird to think about. i remember being like 13 and not understanding Why i felt like this about a fictional character, i didn't even know self shipping was a thing

and it took. Years. for me to finally make sense of it all. i think a few months after i was in love with him was when i found the selfship community here on tumblr and then i considered baldi to be my first f/o ever, though i was never 100% open about self shipping until years later.

even today baldi is one of the characters that changed my life the most, i can't even explain how much he's helped me become better. he's gotten me through all the good, the bad, the times other people let me down. he was There for me. and i am so grateful. because of him i feel like i can just be myself and don't need to put on an act for other people, i don't need to hide how i feel.

i can definitely say that baldi will always be a part of me. even if my feelings fade, or i stop fixating on him, or anything like that happens. i've had many good memories when growing up with him that i can never forget about. like honestly he is a part of Me as a person at this point. he's inspired me to become better. and despite him being fictional he's really improved my life so much.

i love you so so so much baldi <33<3 and i mean it when i say forever, i hope we'll be with eachother for more years to come. thank you for everything!! <3

#🥀 valentino art #📏 baldi<3 #this is crazy personal i hope no one judges me because I'll combust 🙏 #self ship #self ship art #f/o community #romantic f/o #ASLO THE ART IS NOT THAT GREAT SORRY I'M HAVING A HARD TIME DRAWINH

[penkura]

knowing [1/8]

Summary: Sanji knew you were the one the moment he met you.

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

Warnings: None really. Normal One Piece stuff I guess.

Note: I wrote this alongside part of 'last forever', and it made me like Sanji even more haha. I have two post story one-shots done with this in mind, but they can be read as stand alone works once I post them. Reader is two years older than Sanji.

Zoro had never, in the year and a half he'd known and traveled with you, seen you fall for the flirty comments from another man. He'd seen you flirt with some bartenders to get the two of you free meals or drinks when you were in some small towns in between your bounty targets when you both were tight on money. You never took it further than some flirty comments, most of it not even that flirtatious but just being kind. Apparently it was enough to get you free food, and that was really all that mattered.

At the moment though, it was very odd for him to see you being the one absolutely flustered over some flirting. After Luffy had rescued and recruited Zoro in Shells Town, you'd decided to stick with them and become a pirate yourself, following along through Orange Town and Syrup Village, where you'd just recruited Usopp and had Nami joining along as a tentative navigator. In your search for a cook and hearing that Mihawk was nearby thanks to Johnny and Yosaku's sudden arrival, you all ended up at the Baratie, Luffy being dragged in to become the chore boy for damaging the building and injuring the head chef. Eventually the four of you ended up inside, joking around with Luffy about how bad you felt for him.

Your and Nami's laughter was interrupted by the blond haired, blue eyed sous chef of the restaurant appearing before the two of you, thanking the gods or the ocean or whoever for bringing two lovely ladies into his presence that day. Nami basically brushed it off, but Zoro saw how, after she did so, this cook ended up honing in on you who already felt flustered, while he took and kissed the back of your hand, introducing himself as Sanji, giving you a smile. Your face was bright red and you barely were able to get your own name out, before Luffy luckily interrupted saying Sanji was going to be your cook, something he denied before the head chef, who you heard was named Zeff, told him he should go along with you all.

You hid your face behind your hands, shouting in your head about how nervous that interaction made you, you'd never felt like that before and were certain he did that to every girl he met, but you couldn't help it. He just did something to you and it made your feelings start to kick up like never before.

Zoro thought it was ridiculous for you to end up like that, but he also realized after all the time you had spent flirting to get things, it was the first time you'd been flirted with in the time he'd known you.

If Sanji really did join your crew, hopefully you'd get over being flirted with so easily.

+!+

The fights at the Baratie and Arlong Park were over. You'd finally freed Nami's hometown of Cocoyashi Village from Arlong's reign and more importantly released her from being under his thumb. When Luffy finally defeated the Fishman, you gave Nami the tightest hug you could while she cried, before her sister and Genzo, and several other villagers, joined in celebration.

Once you all had been treated for your injuries, the village put on a full celebratory party in thanks for your help with freeing them. Nami had disappeared at some point, but you knew she was fine. Luffy kept looking for meat and saying something about finding a doctor and a musician for the ship.

You, Zoro noticed, had taken to actually downing some drinks, he'd counted five in the time you sat near him. You'd never done that before, and seeing you sway in your seat started to make him nervous as you got a sixth drink and wasted no time in getting it down as well. He was about to take you back to the ship and drop you there to let you start sobering up or resting before Sanji came along and you gave a drunk smile, leaning into him.

"[Y/N]-chan, how much have you had to drink??"

"N-not much!" You hiccup a bit, thinking. "Three?"

"She's had six. She needs to be in bed." Zoro answered for you, which turned you into a giggly mess.

Sanji smiled a bit, putting your arm around his shoulders and one of his on your waist to keep you upright. "Can't hold your liquor then?"

"Hehe, guess not~" you dragged out your sentence while Sanji started walking you back to the Going Merry, talking with you along the way. There was no way you'd remember the conversation you had with him in the morning, but he at least gathered a bit of information about you from your drunk rambling.

He learned you were twenty-one, two years older than he was; the oldest of eight kids, you were proficient in the sword on top of being a ninja, telling Luffy you could be a reconnaissance member for the crew when you joined up. You'd never had a boyfriend which surprised Sanji considering he thought you were so pretty and kind. You had left home at sixteen to find yourself, your parents encouraging you to do as you pleased, and you hoped they wouldn't mind you becoming a pirate.

When he got you back to the women's bunks, you didn't want to let him go and convinced Sanji to at least lay down with you until you fell asleep, which he did, letting you wrap him in a hug that he gently returned. You were so weird to Sanji, he didn't know what to do or think sometimes. He was a natural flirt but with you, it felt odd to do so. Like he really wanted to know about you, not just flirt and compliment you day in and day out. You'd done something to him, but he thought that maybe he didn't mind it.

"Sanji~?"

"Mm-hm?" Sanji was nearly asleep himself when you said his name, pulling him back to the land of the waking. He thought you'd gone and fallen asleep because of how quiet you had gotten in the last few minutes.

"I think you're really pretty~"

"W-What. Hey, hold on…huh??" You had flustered him so badly that Sanji's face was red and he almost squeaked out his words. He didn't get another response from you, as you'd fallen fast asleep like nothing had even happened. Since he knew he wasn't getting anything more from you that night, Sanji quietly snuck out of your bed, leaving the room and closing the door, making sure you were still asleep, finally letting himself breathe with a slight smile on his face.

I've never had someone call me pretty before.

+!+

Sanji never brought up that you had told him you thought he was pretty that night. You still didn't know each other very well, so he thought it best to leave it be as a drunken declaration and let it go for the time being. Should anything change, he might bring it up, but not until then.

In the meantime, you and Nami had become almost like sisters, the two of you sharing stories and laughing, spending much of your free time together.

During your time at a place called Whiskey Peak, you all ended up being the escorts for one Princess Nefertari Vivi, your mission being to take her back to Alabasta in order to stop Warlord Crocodile and bring rain back to her country.

With her as a new temporary addition, Nami decided that the three of you would have a girl's night while she was with you. Nami locked the boys out of the room, bringing in a bottle of wine and some snacks that she convinced Sanji to make for you. Although she was pretty certain the boys, barring Zoro, were trying to listen in, you three were having a blast sharing stories and gossiping.

You were trying to be careful with how much you drank, slightly worried still that you may have said something weird to someone the last time you had too much, but at the moment, you were just tipsy enough that you felt OK and like you'd remember this in the morning.

"All right," Nami grinned a bit before taking a sip of her glass of wine, "Anyone got something else interesting to say?"

Vivi sighed a bit, a slight smile on her face, "My father has been trying to find a suitor for me. I keep telling him not to worry about it right now but…"

"Ooooh, he wants you married already?!"

"O-Only for the kingdom!"

You giggled a bit while Nami talked about how old fashioned and outdated arranged marriage was, before she looked over to you.

"Don't be laughing, miss 'he's so pretty I could die'!"

"Nami!" You seethed a bit, trying to make her keep it down, but it seemed like she had enough wine to keep her just loud enough. You prayed the boys weren't listening in while regretting ever telling her anything the last time the two of you had a girl's night.

"Oh? Who's so pretty you could die?" Vivi raised an eyebrow, though you didn't believe she'd be that interested in silly girl gossip, she was only sixteen, maybe this was the first time she had the chance to partake.

"No one."

"Liiiiiiaaaaarrrrr," Nami dragged the word out so far you'd swear it reached space, "She has a crush~"

"On who??"

"Nami!!"

The grin on her face told you she wasn't going to let up, it was probably the alcohol doing it, normally she'd stop if you asked. You grabbed the nearest pillow and were tempted to throw it, but instead hid your face as it turned bright red.

"[Y/N] likes Sanji! She's fallen head over heels for our flirty cook!"

"Oh! The blond one??" Vivi smiled at you, though you couldn't see it for the pillow your face was buried in, but you still nodded to confirm.

Nami patted you in the back, trying to calm you down before hugging you and babbling about how cute it was you were crushing on Sanji. She might have been younger than you, but sometimes Nami acted like she was even older than you were.

"I just…" You sighed, falling backwards on the bed with Nami still hugging you. She was close to passing out from the drinks she'd had, so you were likely going to be stuck sharing a bed with her that night. "I don't know. We barely know each other still, I don't think he likes me back…"

"You won't know unless you try, [Y/N]." Vivi joined in hugging you, trapping you between the two younger girls. It almost reminded you of your younger sisters at home, who would make you share the bed while they each hugged one side of you.

"I don't want to make things weird…"

"Then don't tell him, make him tell you." Nami nodded, yawning and snuggling closer to you.

Vivi agreed and did the same, having all the attention and warmth made you feel safe, and like you were ready to sleep as well. You smiled when you heard light snores from both girls, deciding Nami was right and you'd try to wait for Sanji to make the first move, if he ever felt the same as you.

"Thanks, girls. You're both wonderful."

+!+

The boys were indeed trying to listen the whole time. Luffy had his ear pressed against the door, while Usopp and Sanji were pushing each other out of the way to try and hear what you girls were saying.

Zoro didn't care at all, he was busy watching the log pose for Nami and making sure the sky stayed clear. Every now and then he'd hear you, Nami, and Vivi laugh loudly, but he didn't pay much mind to it.

At least, until he heard what Luffy said.

"They said someone has a crush on someone else!"

"What?! Who and who?!" Usopp started to blush a bit, knowing this was a private conversation but he still wanted to know!

"Hold ooonnnn, I can't hear them!" Luffy pressed his ear to the door even more, all he heard next was you saying you didn't think someone liked you back. "It's [Y/N] that likes someone!"

"Well, who is it?!" Sanji demanded to know who could ever take your attention so quickly! How dare they do that, unless it was him of course. Damn, he hoped it wasn't Zoro of all people.

Luffy shook his head, he didn't hear much of anything else apart from you thanking Vivi and Nami, then it was silent. "Man, I think they went to sleep. Darn, I wanted to hear who she liked~"

"Bet it's Zoro, they hang out a lot." Usopp nodded, making Luffy think then do the same.

Sanji didn't like hearing that one bit, it almost felt like a knife twisting his heart briefly. He gave a small glare to Zoro who just snapped back at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Bullshit it's nothing.

Zoro wasn't blind, he had seen how nervous you'd get around Sanji at times and how much the blond would go out of his way to learn about you, asking questions that didn't make sense to anything anyone had been talking about. You had even taken to helping in the kitchen when Sanji would let you, whether it was with preparing meals or washing dishes.

A few times Zoro had gone up to take his turn for night watch, and found the two of you leaned into each other asleep, your head on Sanji's shoulder and his head leaned on top of yours. The first time he woke you both up and got onto Sanji for falling asleep during his watch, the two boys ended up in a fight while you tried to apologize saying it was your fault for falling asleep first.

"It's not your fault that he didn't do his job!"

"Please don't blame yourself, [Y/N]-chan!! This moss head is just jealous we're friends!"

"I was friends with her first!!"

You tried really hard not to fall asleep the next few times, but when it did happen Sanji was sure to stay awake, just so Zoro didn't come after him. He couldn't have you getting into trouble now!

Zoro didn't bother to say anything to Sanji that night. He knew enough and had seen enough from how the two of you interacted to know there was something developing. He had no idea if it would be a good or bad thing, it could even be both in the end.

For now, he wouldn't interfere and would let you do as you pleased, you were your own person and older than he was too.

If this thing ended up screwing up your plans and goals though, he'd step in if you didn't mind.

+!+

The time you'd spent on Drum Island to cure Nami of her sudden sickness and recruit a doctor had flown by. Now having your friend back to full health and Chopper on board, you were all the way to Alabasta once again, specifically Nanohana to dock and stock up a bit before heading further into the country. Vivi had told you that you'd all need clothes to protect you from the sun and heat, as well as being able to restock the pantry and fridge while you were docked.

Once that had been settled, you were all chased down by the Marines, but rescued by Luffy's older brother Ace, who made it so you all could set sail and get away from them. He ended up joining you all due to some information he'd received for his own personal mission. Everyone gladly accepted him for the on foot portion of your journey, Luffy being the most excited and introducing him to each of you separately.

"[Y/N]! This is my big brother Ace!" With his signature grin, Luffy introduced you and Ace, even though you'd already spoken to him just a bit. It was sweet of him to do so!

"Luffy tells me you've got siblings too."

"Oh yeah! I'm the oldest of eight!"

Ace was shocked, his eyes widening a bit. "Eight?!"

"Oh," you placed your finger to your chin and thought a bit, "Actually it's nine now. Mom was pregnant when I left."

"Holy crap."

You just laughed, telling Ace about each of your siblings, five brothers and two sisters, you had hoped the newest was another girl. You told him a few stories you remembered, making him laugh. In return he told you a few stories about Luffy and their third brother, causing you to giggle at the antics they got up to.

Normally you'd hang by Zoro or Sanji to stay close to the group, but you felt drawn to Ace and stayed in the middle of the group with him, listening to the others discussing different things and Luffy whining about the heat.

You didn't notice how Sanji, who was walking closer to the back of the group, watched you as you talked with Ace. Every time you laughed or shoved on his arm in a joking manner, it made Sanji bite down on his cigarette a little more.

He wasn't sure why he felt so jealous, it's not like Ace was staying or you two were dating.

But still.

I don't like this feeling.

+!+

"You're going to make the cook have a fit you know."

Tilting your head slightly, you sat beside Zoro and wondered what he was walking about.

"Flirting with Ace like that, Sanji's going to lose it if you keep it up."

Your face went red and you looked shocked, making Zoro chuckle at you quietly. Had you not noticed?

"I-I'm not flirting with Ace! I'm just–"

"Laughing at everything he says. Flirting."

"He was telling me a funny story from when he and Luffy were kids! What was I supposed to do, not laugh?!"

Shrugging, Zoro looked over where Sanji was, seeing he had turned back to whatever he was making for dinner. Alabasta had been deathly hot during the day, but now that the sun was setting a chill was settling on. He hoped whatever Sanji made would be something warm. Whatever he was making, Ace offered to help and Sanji declined politely, though Zoro really believed he was trying hard not to snap at the fire user over a possible misunderstanding.

"Zoro…you…" You bit your lip while you watched Sanji and Ace interact, noticing that Sanji was trying not to make eye contact when he responded. "Do you think…Sanji…likes me?"

"I don't know. He seems to like any woman with a pulse."

"...right…"

The slight sadness in your voice actually made Zoro feel bad for what he said, despite it being the truth. He wasn't blind, he could see you had quickly developed feelings for Sanji in the last few weeks, but it was Sanji of course, he flirted with most any woman he came across. Zoro honestly thought you had been flirting with Ace, but he was also willing to admit he was wrong. Your reaction to his response about Sanji liking you told him that.

Honestly, it kind of pissed him off that of all the people in the world, you ended up with feelings for Sanji, the most flirtatious person he'd ever met. Zoro viewed you almost like an older sister and didn't want to see you get hurt, though he was fairly certain that Sanji would be loyal and wouldn't ever purposefully hurt a woman, but he didn't care to see you take that chance.

He'd probably skewer the poor chef if he broke your heart.

"He looks at you differently."

"Huh?" It'd been quiet long enough that you thought Zoro had fallen asleep despite not having dinner yet, but he surprised you when he spoke.

"His eyes. He looks at you differently than Nami or Vivi, or any other woman. I don't know." Zoro shrugged, placing his arms behind his head and opting to close his eyes while you thought over what he said.

Maybe one day you'd see this difference in Sanji's eyes.

+!+

"You want some help?" Ace smiled a bit while he spoke to Sanji, not the least bit surprised when the blond shook his head.

"No. I'm good."

Short answers with a slight bite to them, Ace wasn't sure if he'd done something or if Sanji just didn't like him. He had seemed distant whenever Ace tried to speak to him, giving more short answers but none had sounded like he was upset until just now. He was still nice but not like everyone else had been so far.

Ace watched Sanji for a bit, standing by him just in case he changed his mind. Instead, he saw how Sanji got distracted every little bit, his eyes wandering somewhere before darting back to the food he was making. The next time it happened, Ace followed his line of sight and smirked a bit seeing Sanji had looked over to you, who was sitting by a napping Zoro in a shady spot.

Ah I see.

There was his answer. Ace realized he had taken up a lot of your attention that day, and that he'd only really heard conversation from Sanji when he was talking to you, Vivi, or Nami, but now it all made sense. Maybe the blond was a bit jealous Ace had taken up so much of your time that day.

He crouched down by Sanji, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry, not gonna steal your girl."

After taking in a sharp breath and nearly choking to death on his cigarette, Sanji coughed a few times before looking at Ace in shock. "S-She's not–"

"She looks at you like she likes you a lot. I hope you guys get together someday."

Sanji didn't have a chance to respond before Luffy called Ace over to hang out with him, Usopp, and Chopper. If Ace had noticed how he felt about you, had anyone else?! He wasn't even sure if you actually felt that way or if Ace was messing with him. The fire user didn't seem like the kind of person to screw with others' emotions and feelings, but maybe you had said something that made him do so.

Either way, Sanji didn't fully know what to think, and he was glad you weren't switching night shifts with him that day.

+!+

Your time in Alabasta was coming to an end. You'd all helped to free the country from Crocodile's reign and it had actually poured down rain for nearly two days. The royal family was kind enough to let you all stay there until you were healed enough to leave, keeping the Marines at bay, Luffy still passed out in a bed of course. Your injuries felt minor compared to everyone else's; you, Nami, Chopper, and Usopp taking longer to rest and heal up than your stronger companions.

The palace library was a lovely place, filled with books on any subject you could imagine or ever want to learn about. Vivi helped you find some novels to read, saying you could absolutely take them with you when you all left and return them another time, she'd never tell they were missing. The rain kept you inside, relaxing at one of the large windows while you kept yourself in the novel's world, until someone placed a hand on your shoulder, making you jump a bit.

You turned quickly at the laugh and your face turned bright red seeing Sanji there.

"Did I scare you?"

"You did! Gosh," you smiled as he sat down beside you, "make some noise next time!"

"I will!" Watching you return to your book, Sanji smiled while you read. He was so beyond glad you hadn't been badly injured during the fights against the Baroque Works members. Some scratches here and there, a couple deeper wounds, but you didn't mind if they ended up scarring or not, at least you were alive.

One was a deep cut on the right side of your face, currently covered in a thick bandage. He hoped you wouldn't get a scar from it.

"Does your face still hurt?"

Shaking your head, you closed your book and set it aside. "Not anymore, thanks to Chopper. He said it shouldn't scar as long as I keep up taking care of it."

You'd still look pretty even with a scar.

Sanji didn't dare say that out loud, he still wasn't sure about your feelings for him, if Ace was right or not. But he couldn't help reaching out to your face, brushing his fingers over the bandage on your face lightly. You may have said it didn't hurt still, but he didn't want to cause you any pain.

"Sorry I wasn't there to help."

You shook your head, giving him a soft smile while you took his hand in your own. "Don't worry about it. I can hold my own, and I'm alive, aren't I?"

Nodding, Sanji knew you were right, you were stronger than you looked and made it out alive taking down several Baroque Works members on your own. You'd helped whittle their numbers down a bit while they fought the Alabasta army and the revolutionaries in the country.

He still couldn't help but be worried when you rejoined your crewmates and he saw how scratched up you were.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Sanji pulled you a bit closer to him, telling you he was glad you were okay and gently kissing the top of your head. That was the bravest move either have you had done towards the other, and it made you blush bright red, glad your face was hiding in his shirt.

"Hey…Sanji?"

"Mm-hm?"

Biting your lip, you gripped his shirt a little tighter, hoping you weren't about to ruin your friendship, but what Zoro had said stuck in your head and you had to say something.

"I…think I have feelings for you…"

You could physically feel his breath hitch as he tightened his own grip on your shoulders before relaxing a bit, putting his other arm around you in a tight hug.

"I'm so glad to hear that, because I think I have feelings for you too."

You returned the hug, before laughing a bit. "Well, now what? Are we…together or…?"

Sanji wasn't sure himself, but he chose to nod slightly. He really hoped you wouldn't try to look at his face, he was bright red just like you were, but didn't want you to start giggling over it like he knew you would. He wouldn't mind much, but still.

This was the first time he'd made it this far with someone, made it to confessing mutual feelings.

Boy he was glad the feelings were mutual and were actually good feelings. Not at all like the shared animosity between him and Zoro, thankfully.

"I think we should keep this between you and me for now, yeah?"

You nodded in agreement, finally doing what he'd hoped you wouldn't and looking up at Sanji, your face as red as his with a smile on your face. "Just between you and me then."

You were both quiet for a while, before Sanji broke the silence and surprised you.

"May I…may I kiss you?"

His request surprised you so much that you blushed even worse, but gave a nod and soft "yes" in return. Sanji leaned in and kissed you briefly, and when he pulled back, you leaned back in yourself and kissed him back, just as briefly, before hiding your face in his shirt and making him laugh.

"Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not, I promise!"

You thought he really was, but you didn't care too much if so, it was fine honestly.

Only because it was Sanji.

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #knowing fanfic #vinsmoke sanji x reader

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Do you wanna dance? - Matty Healy

A/N: i couldn't help myself, these two deserve to be happy forever and ever xx

this is a part two to this request i did earlier, but can also be read separately!!

wc: 3k

content warnings: mentions of drugs (weed), cursing, typical MPIND banter, kissing, a touch suggestive?

May, 2009 

“I’m so fucking boreddd, kill me now.” you drag your feet on the ground, letting yourself be pulled along by Matty, his hand tightly clasped against yours. He rolls his eyes, begging you to walk properly, and that you would find something to do soon. 

“Carolines?” he suggests, pointing in the general direction of the old paper factory, it being maybe a 25 minutes walk from where you were currently at. You raise your eyebrows at him, a skeptical look on your face. “Really?” you ask, whining about how your feet hurt and you didn't want to walk any further.

“Pretty please, I promise I'll make it worth your while.” he lowers his voice, winking at you cheekily. A groan leaves your lips, and you shove him off to the side, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of cheap tesco wine. 

“I’d do alot for you,” you burp, making Mattys face scrunch up in disgust “but i am not shagging you on a terrace, not a chance in fuck.” he laughs like music to your ears, a gross snort slipping out.

You suggest calling your other mates, inviting them for a few drinks on the balcony, just like old times. That small platform just off the main office held dear memories, good and bad. Matty immediately shakes his head, bringing your hand away from the phone in your pocket. “Just you and me, no one else.” He sounds different, you couldn't quite place it. 

“Carry me.” you joke, pressing a dramatic hand to your forehead. Imagine your surprise when you feel a firm hand press against your back, and another wrap around the back of your knees, hauling you up. Your hip hits the bare skin on Mattys chest, another ‘stylistic’ choice of his, only being covered in a thin, see through black shirt. 

“Jesus, fuck, let me down!!” you scream, attempting to push him away. 

All he does is giggle at your struggle, only pulling you closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. 

“D’you think I'm too weak to carry you?” you huff, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll proper hurt yourself-” he laughs again, almost in disbelief. “Oh, come off it, I'm pretty strong, you know!” you roll your eyes, shooting him a worried look. He nods, leaning in to give you what you think is another kiss.

Instead, he fucking licks across your face, making you squirm away at the odd feeling. 

“Perv.” you spit, turning your head away from him. He nuzzles his face into your freshly curled hair, humming contentedly as he starts walking down the sidewalk. You notice him adjusting his hands a few times, trying to get a better grip, so you ask to be let down. He refuses, like he’s trying to prove something to someone. It was no use, he was going to see this through, apparently. 

It was wet, the rain from a few hours prior making everything smell like damp concrete. It was barely sunset, the sky painted several shades of blue, purple and orange, clouds sparsely littering the sky. Trees were finally starting to green again, and the warm air kissed your skin, warning you of the hot summer to come. It was late May, breezy and comfortable, even if it was pissing it down most of the time, you didn't mind it, rarely getting sick anyway. 

The back entrance was covered by stacks of cardboard, soggy and flimsy from the rain. Matty tries to set you down gracefully onto a rock nearby, miserably failing as when trips over his own feet, sending you both flying down onto the soft, grassy ground. 

Laughing at the stumble, he kisses you while you're still under him, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long, wet dirt sullying the back of your shirt, making you whine like a small child. He reluctantly rolls off you, offering a hand to help you stand. Wobbly on your very impractical heels, Matty takes a jab at your choice of footwear.

“Who wears heels to go walk around? You've got fucking ankles of steel or something, thats mad.” he laughs, gesturing at your red platforms, thin straps the only thing keeping them attached to your feet. 

“They’re platforms.” you correct him “You’d know that, if you knew anything ever. Fuck you, you’re just jealous i’m taller now.” It was true, you towered slightly over him, even if only a few inches, it gave you a sense of power. 

Twirling your hair around your fingers, you let Matty lead you up the stairs, hand firmly gripping your wrist. His nails were painted black to match, though they were significantly more chipped than yours, the nail polish peeling off in chunks. 

Still, you found it endearing how he always wanted to use the things you did, whether it be makeup, clothes, even colors. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours, evident au cause de the blue top you were wearing. The stupid tourist shirt, his prized possession. 

The wind had died down a bit by the time you reached the smashed glass door leading to the terrace. Ross had managed to fall through it one night, absolutely wrecked off half a bottle of tito’s, no mixer. The four of you spent hours afterwards trying to pick small shards of glass out of a blacked out Ross, utterly convinced he was dying of alcohol poisoning. Fucking drama queen. 

Orange light floods the terrace, painting the worn down sofa in a warm hue. Matty smirks slightly as he plops down onto it, patting the space beside him, asking a silent question. You smile, the sight of him making your heart swell up with love. God, he looked beautiful, it was almost too much. Thicker chunks of his hair were now dyed blonde, streaks of pink peeking through. Impulse decision, though a good one, the bit of color really suited him.

“You got any?” he asks, tucking both his hands behind his head, spreading his legs, his shirt riding up slightly. A suggestion. 

“What do you take me for?” you giggle, already pulling out your weed. He never brought his own, insisting that if you wanted to roll them yourself, you’d also buy it. His logic was deeply flawed, but honestly, you loved him too much to tell him. 

Rolling the spliff, flashes of memories flip through your mind, you hear Hann’s voice. 

‘Girls don't roll their own spliffs’ God, he was such a dickhead.

“Girls don’t roll their own spliffs.” you giggle, grinning at Matty as you lick it closed, admiring your work. George had given you a few tips, and you’d actually gotten better. Mattys angelic laugh fills your ears, bouncing off the concrete walls. 

“Fuck yeah, I'm your girl.” he says proudly, brushing tangled curls out of his face, slightly more tan than usual, the sun having branded his fair skin. Your eyes roll of their own accord, and you nudge him with your elbow, muttering quietly. 

“Shut up mate, honestly.” he lets out a dramatic gasp at your words, pressing a hand to his chest is faux shock. 

“Do mates do this?” You jump as he snatches the spliff out of your hand, grabbing your face just like he did on the grass before, pressing a hot kiss right beside your mouth, just missing it. Biting back a moan, you feel his tongue slip past your lips, running across your own. 

“Okay, fuck off now, thanks.” you smile, unable to stop yourself. Not when he looked at you with such joy, eyes glimmering in the warm light. 

He hands the joint back to you, your hands brushing against each other. It felt loving, purposeful, real.

Grabbing the lighter from your right pocket, you run your fingers across the worn rhinestone, fondly remembering the day he’d made it for you.

The way he was reluctant at first, only giving in after you physically dragged him through the doors of the hobby shop, forcing him to pick out decorations. His concentrated expression as he tried to pick off the cheap stones, having to let you help him do it after numerous failed attempts. It was one of your favorite days with him, wishing you could relive it a thousand times over.  

Laying back, you hold it in front of you, rotating it over the flame to get an even burn. The smell flooding your senses, you close your eyes, bringing the spliff to your lips. Inhaling deeply, you feel Matty shuffle next to you, shifting and making the sofa creak under him. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes shut as you feel the drug hit your system, a warm, weightless sensation enveloping you. It was when he moved for the third time that you snapped your eyes open, going to complain.

“Christ, will you stop moving around like tha-” your words get caught in your throat, dying out. 

He wasn't in the spot next to you anymore. No, he was on the floor. On the floor, on one knee, holding a small, red velvet box in his right hand. Your breath hitches as you notice the expression on his face. Anxiety. You could speak, hell, you could barely fucking think. Matty was in front of you, kneeling, holding a white diamond that was shimmering in the light, like a goddamn dream. 

You watch as he opens his mouth to speak several times, closing it before any sound comes out. His eyes fill with panic as you sit up, eyes wide in shock. He was proposing. Properly proposing, with a ring and everything, down on one knee. You’re convinced this is a dream, of a fucking hallucination, something more believable than what was actually happening in front os you. 

“Marry me?” he forces out, hand slightly shaking as you look him up and down, mouth completely dry. You felt tears stream down your face. Obviously, with Matty not being able to read your mind, his eyes dart around your features, trying to gauge what your reaction meant. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you.” are the first words you say, hands coming up to shield your face. The panic only grew as he tries to speak, only things coming out being bits of words and ‘sorry’. 

Shaking your head violently, you reach out your hand, presenting your ring finger. Tears well up in Mattys own eyes, dangerously close to rolling down his puffy cheeks. 

“Yes, oh my god, I fucking love you so much.” you scream, bouncing off your spot on the sofa, lunging towards a very emotional Matty. You catch his lips in a kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not daring to let go 

“Really? You’ll marry me?” he says in genuine disbelief, his left hand gripping your lower back, pulling you close.

“Of course i’ll marry you Matty, christ.” he pushes you away, giddily slipping the silver ring onto your ring finger, planting a soft kiss to the metal. 

“Fucking hell that is a boulder.” you look at the diamond in awe, the stone basically blinding you. He grins from ear to ear, grabbing the fabric of your top, kissing you softly, a gentle warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips make contact. 

“Only the best for my wife.” giggles leave his lips, delirious and ecstatic, disbelief still evident in the way his eyes rake over you, settling on the ring. Pressing a hand to your cheeks, he thumbs the tears away, kissing all over your face. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest. 

“Bit early, innit?” you comment, sucking in a deep breath, eyes glued to Mattys. You're both on your knees, concrete digging into the skin of your legs. It was cold, uncomfortable, but you truly couldn't care less.   

“Never too early, Mrs. Healy” he smirks in that cheeky way of his, both hands settling onto your shoulder, rubbing small shapes into your skin. The moment doesn't feel real, nothing does. You hope to god that this isn't a dream, that that this was really happening. 

“Can Hann be the flower girl?” your inability to be serious for five fucking seconds shines through, the both of you falling into each others arms, uncontrollably laughing. Mattys eyes crease as he giggles, the feel of his hands on your body is heavenly, l of his hands touching your skin makes you truly believe you've reached a higher plane of existence. 

“Only if he wears the dress.” 

“Deal.” you say, knowing well that getting Adam Hann into a dress would require months of begging, maybe even bribery. You would probably need to buy him a fucking house to get him to even consider it. 

More laughter, more kissing, more planning a future neither of you had ever actually thought possible. A future with each other. 

Matty fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out his Ipod, initials erratically scratched into the metal. You raise your eyebrows at him, asking a silent question of ‘what the fuck?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, smirking at you as he swiftly stands up, extending his hand. This is so incredibly cliché, and you know that yourself, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

His fingers press one earphone into your ear, before doing the same to his own. He smiles sweetly, expression softening. This was true, raw, unbridled love. 

“Can I choose the song?” you ask, fingers trailing down Mattys jaw as he settles his hands onto your waist. Nodding, he hands you the Ipod, letting you select whatever you wanted. 

“I love you so much, my darling girl.” he mumbled into your hair, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“Stop being such a sap,” you laugh, quickly adding a “I love you too.” as to not offend him. As if he would be offended. 

Suffragette City blared through the headphones, the music filling every corner of your being. Your hips swayed, and so did his, guiding you lightly with the hands gripping you tightly. 

You didn't speak, letting Matty spin and twirl you around, breaking out into fits of laughter when you almost tripped over your ridiculous heels. Fuck, they were really a bad idea. 

Stopping for a second, you reach down to unclasp your shoes, kicking them off without a second thought. 

“Already taking your clothes off? We haven't even said our vows yet-” he teases, being met with a sharp look and a hand threaded into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“Don't ruin the moment, you wanker.” you mutter against his lips, licking into his mouth as you let him take back control of your movements. 

You don't know how long you dance for, but by the time the two of you finally come up for air, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the tall buildings of the city. 

Your life together flashes through your mind. That very first kiss. That night in The Sound. Ruby. The drugs. The lighter, smashed into little bits. Your fight with the guys. The night he had called you, shaking and crying, scared. The photos. The sight of him, down on one knee.  

This was it. Everything that had happened; every mistake, every fight, every passionate kiss, every gasp of pleasure when skin met skin, every tear shed since that night at the bus stop had been leading up to this final moment. 

You and Matty, 

Matty and you 

Forever.

Properly this time 

The music faded, the sound of rainfall pattering loudly against the metal roof replaced it. 

A Suffragette City, A Suffragette City

Quite all right

A Suffragette City

Too fine

A Suffragette City, ooh, A Suffragette City

Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City

Ah, Suffragette

Suffragette!

#i actually cried during this #its so sweet #no smut for once surprise surprise #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 smut

[mrsparrasblog]

The selection pt.1

Unable to feel emotions, a deadly weapon, unable to empathize with the enemy, a calculated killer. It was as if you were listening to a presentation about yourself. So this was your new place now, musty, dirty, and you needed to work with men. Unbelievable. You were so much better alone, so why send you with a team? But order is order.

Your new boss was like every other boss you had in the past fourteen years: white, old, and unable to protect himself. He relied on you, didn’t trust his allies, closest friends, and sometimes not even himself. But it was easy to trust a mindless creation, someone who shouldn’t be able to feel or think—at least that's what he says. Did he really think you hadn’t got a voice in your head? You had it—it wasn’t always there, but it was sometimes. You weren’t dumb.

"Welcome to the Team," Price said, extending his hand to you. Shepard introduced you to him and his team of barbaric monkeys. You didn’t bother to shake his hand; you hated fake niceties. Was he your boss too? You hoped not. There were already enough useless men in charge of you.

"Shake your superior's hand," he grunted out, not amused by your behavior. Superior—only more men in power. How usual. You ignored him, only rolling your eyes and looking at Shepard, your real boss. If he said shake this man's hand, you do; if not, you don’t.

"John, she doesn’t work with ranks," Shepard tried to explain. I’m an assassin, not a soldier, you thought. Soldiers weren’t something you were particularly fond of, nor were your teachers. Well, if you don’t count him, but that’s not important right now anyway.

"Well, bad for her. I don’t need someone on my team who can't show me a tad of respect," he snorted, glaring at you like he wanted to kill you—sweet, you thought, how naive he was. He really didn’t know what you were capable of.

"There is no discussion. She is on the team as long as I need her, understood?"

"Understood, General."

The boss left, telling you to try to listen to John but always listen to him first. Reasonable. You’d heard weirder requests.

"So, we're stuck with her now," the boy called Gaz, what a stupid name, asked.

"Yes."

"At least you aren’t hard on the eyes, lass," Soap joked. The man with the stupid name and the worst haircut chuckled while his hand touched your shoulder in an attempt to tease you and soften the tension between you and the new team.

By instinct, your hand grabbed his, putting it in a position where it would be so easy to break his hand. "Прикоснись ко мне снова, и я убью тебя!" you hissed, and the men only looked stupidly at you.

"Ah, she just doesn’t understand English, poor lass."

"I understand English perfectly fine. I said if you touch me again, I’m going to kill you!" The monotonous look in your eyes sent shivers down Soap's spine. He knew you weren’t playing; crazy, that’s what you were to him, and you didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t touch you again.

"Okay, why don’t we all calm down?"

"Great, Cap."

"Tell us your callsign or something about you," the older man said, and you asked yourself what would happen if you just stood up and left. But the mission was more important than your ego or annoyance for all of them. Well, except the ridiculous masked man; at least he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

"Love, 19," was all you said. The truth was, you didn’t remember your name anymore. It was all gone, buried deep between all the sessions you needed to endure until the final selection. You knew that you were called 0694 most of your life, until the accident which made them call you Love.

"You don’t seem like someone with the callsign 'Love,' more like Medusa."

"Gaz, stop!" the old man scolded. You could see the wrinkles on his face. He was at least 40, you thought. Was he more like Shepard, or Durinov? Well, he wasn’t a good guy, that's what you knew about him. But who is a good guy after all?

"Okay, Love, the Lieutenant will show you your room."

"Хорошо" You bark at him, getting ready to follow the Ghost masked guy to your new room.

"Speak English, Love."

"Fine, Captain," you scoffed at him. You were sure you wouldn’t like it here. Why couldn’t a better boss get you someone who just gave you orders? You were good at following orders: Kill him—done, torture him—done, make him pay—easy. Just this American sitcom family situation was too nauseating for you. Your thoughts went away to the prospect of skinning some of them alive, but not allowed.

You walked with Ghost to your new place. He was taller than you and bulkier, but that didn’t mean he was stronger. You fought a lot against guys like him—brutes—and they always lost. Strength isn’t enough without a brain, but he seemed smarter than the other ones; he didn’t talk, and you could appreciate that.

"This is it," he gestured to a single room with white walls and a twin-sized bed in the middle. It was one of the better places you’d slept in, if you forget Budapest, Moscow, and Prague. Stupid girl, you thought to yourself. Don’t dwell on your memories; they're gone, gone, gone.

"Okay."

"You don’t talk much," he observed.

You only nodded firmly, not bothering to use your lips to form words.

"Good," he said before walking away.

You threw your bag into the corner. You didn’t have much besides your uniform, weapons, and that washed-out picture of him, which you should have thrown out a long time ago. But it's like a warning for you, you thought. Maybe it was indeed sentiment, which you wouldn’t admit—not after that day.

In search of the training room, you walked past the meeting room where the men still sat as if time stood still.

"Shouldn’t the TF 141 have just four of us, Cap?" the man with the cap asked. If you remembered right, he was called Gaz or something like that.

"Shepard only approved of this task force if she would join, so it's off the table."

"She is crazy," Mohawk guy stated.

"Maybe so, but she's great in the field."

"How do you know, Ghost?"

"Met her in Lisbon four years ago, but as an enemy."

"Four years ago, she was 15."

"Indeed."

"This can't be true."

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

Lisbon, March 2018

The storm howled through the gloomy streets of Lisbon. It was one of your first solo missions: just kill the target and finish. Nothing special, but lying on the rooftop with your sniper gun was more uncomfortable than you had originally imagined. Of course, you were used to discomfort, but the missions were always your safe space. Sleeping outside was easy—safer than there.

But now you were soaked through to your underwear, and the damn target was taking his sweet time. You were trained to lie here on the rooftop for several days, and you won't mess up your first mission; it all factors into the evaluation. And you already messed up that hard. You needed to improve before the grand selection.

Footsteps echoed behind you. You had the choice to turn around and fight off the intruder or to keep focusing on your mission. If he caught you turning around, you would fail, and you really didn’t need this. You decided to foolishly turn around, aiming your gun at him. He was tall, bulky, with blonde hair and several scars on his face—a soldier. Probably, your survival rate was around 75%.

Of course, he pointed his gun at you too, making this even more annoying than it already was. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” He had a British accent, probably SAS, judging by his uniform.

“I’m a NATO soldier just keeping watch. No one shoots the governor,” you tried hard to speak with an American accent, maybe he was a brute and not a brain. The uniform you wore didn’t have any flags, atypical for NATO.

“Don’t bullshit me, tell me the truth before I put a hole through your head,” he barked at you, at least only half an idiot, you guessed.

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t put a hole through your head first.”

“As if you were able, little girl.” Before you could form a cocky remark, you already had a bullet in your shoulder. He thought you would leave your position because of the bullet, but you stayed put; you needed to finish the mission. He hunched over to you, turning you around while drawing his knife out.

“Блядь, неужели ты не можешь просто позволить мне быть,” you cursed under your breath, drawing your knife too, standing up without a hint of pain in your eyes, making him wonder how this was possible.

“NATO, huh?”

He tried to bring you down with his pure brute strength, but as always, he forgot that strength isn’t everything. “You shouldn’t have such a bad stance,” you smirked before he could defend his technique; you already put a knife inside his hip.

The big, incapable soldier winced on the ground as if a knife wound hurt that bad. Before he could reach for something, you were already on your way to your rope, grabbing it to jump from the rooftop.

“By the way, never disturb my work again, сука,” and with that, you shot him in the shoulder, eye for an eye, and jumped from the rooftop.

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

"That's how the governor died?" Price asked, and Ghost only nodded. It wasn't one of his proudest moments; he would have won if he hadn’t been so unfocused. Since then, his missions were always about constant focus and never underestimating an enemy.

“She is a terrorist, we don’t work with terrorists,”

“Have fun fighting me, you lose, short man—all of you will lose,” you said, showing yourself from the corner where you had been hiding. They needed to tolerate you for their silly little task force.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #captain john price #ghost cod #ghost #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Six

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Six: Christmas Eve

Summary: Saiki's bothers (friends) end up at his house for Christmas Eve.

            Saiki walked towards his house. His parents were excited as usual for holidays, so the entire house was decked in lights and wreaths for Christmas, even if it was a rather western holiday. As soon as he placed a hand upon the doorhandle, he had a bad feeling. Sure enough, his mother and Nendou were inside the doorway when he opened the door.

            “Oh, welcome back, Kuu!” greeted Mrs. Saiki.

            “Hey, you’re late, pal!” said Nendou, giving him a thumbs-up.

            “Hey, Saiki!” (Y/N) walked in from the living room and waved.

            Saiki sighed and walked in. “How did they end up here?” he asked his mother.

            “I ran into Nendou at the grocery store and asked him to join us! And (L/N)’s parents are going on a trip, and since they were so sweet last time we met, I offered for them to join us for Christmas,” explained Mrs. Saiki. She left to go greet her husband, who had just arrived home.

            “I’m gonna grab a cookie!” said Nendou, heading to the kitchen.

            “A trip?” And they didn’t invite their kid?

            “They had business,” said (Y/N). They smiled, but Saiki noticed it wasn’t as big as their usual one. “They’re sort of workaholics,” they joked. “They’ll be back tomorrow.”

            “So you’re staying here.”

            “Yeah!” A real smile spread across (Y/N)’s face. “I’m excited! I’ll try not to bother you, though.”

            Considerate of my feelings. “It’s fine.” He ignored how often he observed (Y/N)’s good qualities these days.

            (Y/N) looked at him in surprise. They were about to respond, but Mr. Saiki, Mrs. Saiki, and Nendou returned.

            “Merry Christmas! Santa’s here!” called Mr. Saiki, dressed up like St. Nick. He blanked when he saw (Y/N) and Nendou. “I wish you had told me that we were going to have guests. I look like a fool!” he whispered to his wife.

            “That’s because you are one.”

            (Y/N) covered their mouth to avoid laughing.

            “So who’re they?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “They’re Kuu’s friends, Nendou and (L/N). Remember? The (L/N)’s were dropping their daughter of today for dinner,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            “Kusuo’s friends?!” exclaimed Mr. Saiki. He began crying in happiness.

            Saiki sighed in exasperation while (Y/N) laughed.

            “Hello, Nendou, (L/N)!” said Mr. Saiki. “I’m Kuniharu, Saiki’s father! Nice to meet you!”

            “Oh, you’re my pal’s dad? Nice to meet you,” said Nendou, but because he was so tall compared to Mr. Saiki, he ended up looking intimidating.

            He seems like a total thug, thought Mr. Saiki.

            “Nice to meet you!” chirped (Y/N). Flowers twirled around them.

            They seem too nice to hang out with Kusuo, thought Mr. Saiki.

            Hey—

            “These are well-made,” said Nendou, holding Mr. Saiki’s discarded Santa hat and beard. “I really thought it was Santa.”

            “What? R-Really?” Mr. Saiki blushed.

            So you’re happy now?

            And so, Mr. Saiki accepted Nendou as a not-thug friend and (Y/N) as the too-nice-for-Saiki friend (Saiki was not pleased with the second one). Together, they all sat down for dinner.

            “Merry Christmas!”

            “Merry Christmas!”

            They all clinked glasses.

            “(Y/N), how did someone so nice because friends with my closed-off Kusuo?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            Is this what TV shows mean about awkward family dinners with guests?

            “Saiki’s actually pretty accepting! He’s just quiet, but that’s completely fine,” said (Y/N). They spoke casually, but their heart thumped as they complimented Saiki. They almost glanced at him as if hoping for a reaction. For some reason or other. Nothing they knew.

            Mr. and Mrs. Saiki awed.

            How do they say those affectionate things so easily? Saiki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit embarrassed and flustered, but the world would start loving him before he showed it.

            “And Nendou! You’re quite sensible! I was happy to hear you thought I was the real Santa,” said Mr. Saiki. “When Kusuo was less than a year old, he already looked at me as if I had come from his diaper.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “The Saiki Death Stare.”

            Saiki gave them that exact look. They shivered.

            “You really are a good, well-mannered kid, Nendou,” continued Mr. Saiki, still doting on the tall boy.

            “Oh? I’m not really a good kid,” said Nendou.

            “Sure, you are,” assured (Y/N).

            “What?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “Santa never came to my place,” said Nendou.

            “Oh, well, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad kid. Santa didn’t come to my place, either,” said (Y/N).

            “What?! Why your fathers deprive you of Santa?!” cried Mr. Saiki.

            “I don’t have a dad. He died before I was born,” explained Nendou.

            “My parents said it didn’t matter where presents came from,” said (Y/N).

            How on earth did you end up so optimistic with such realists for parents? Saiki was almost disappointed to know their home-life wasn’t as bright as they themself were.

            “What?!” cried Mrs. Saiki.

            “I-I didn’t know that…” said Mr. Saiki.

            “I’m sorry…” said Mrs. Saiki.

            (Y/N) shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine.”

            Clearly not. I wish I could read your mind. Then I’d know how to help. Saiki saw (Y/N) as a real friend (translation: he was willing to admit (Y/N) was his friend, but he had others). He was more willing than usual to get involved in their problems.

            “Hm? Why? That doesn’t bother me. I’ve got my mom, so…” Nendou gave a big smile and a thumbs-up. “Santa doesn’t come, but that doesn’t make me feel sad or anything!”

            “I see…” murmured Mr. Saiki uncomfortably. “Ah, excuse us for a bit.”

            “You three go on eating,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            The husband and wife left the room.

            “Your parents are pretty cool, and your dad is fun. I mean, he came home in a Santa costume,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “This is just the beginning. It only gets more ‘fun’ from here,” said Saiki, the sarcasm clear without any tone.

            “Sorry for stepping out!” chirped Mrs. Saiki, returning with a bright smile.

            “Where’d Mr. Saiki go?” asked (Y/N).

            “Ah, he went out. He said something like having to go lick his clients’ shoes,” said Mrs. Saiki. She gestured to the food. “Let’s go ahead and enjoy.”

            Suddenly, Mr. Saiki, dressed completely like Santa, began trying to open the backdoor.

            “Ahhh! What’s going on?” questioned Nendou. “Some guy that looks like Santa is trying to open the door!”

            Mrs. Saiki opened the door and let “Santa” in.

            “Ahem.” Mr. Saiki cleared his throat. “Hello, Nendou, (L/N). I’m Santa. Nice to meet you.”

            “See? My father really is one-of-a-kind, isn’t he?” remarked Saiki, sending the message just to (Y/N)’s mind.

            (Y/N) smiled and whispered back. “I think it’s nice.”

            “The real Santa is here!” gasped Nendou. “Is it really you, Santa?! Amazing!”

            “Wow! Incredible!” (Y/N) played along (mostly for Nendou’s sake).

            “Please shake my hand, Mr. Santa!” said Nendou.

            “Ho ho ho! Sure!” Mr. Saiki shook Nendou’s hand.

            Mrs. Saiki and (Y/N) laughed.

            “Oh! That’s right!” exclaimed Nendou. “Santa travels with reindeer, right? I want to see reindeer even more than Santa!”

            “Okay! They’re outside. Why don’t you go look?” said Mr. Saiki.

            (Y/N) tilted their head. “Can your dad keep this up?

            “Probably not.” Not without my help. Both of my parents keep begging for my help in their minds. He teleported a reindeer to his backyard effortlessly.

            “Whoa! A reindeer! Amazing!” cried Nendou.

            “Wait, really?! Cool!” (Y/N) hurried to the window. “Whoa!”

            “Here, you two. These are presents for you,” said Mr. Saiki after they returned indoors. He handed them each a gift.

            “I-Is it really okay?” asked Nendou.

            “R-Really? For me?” Strangely, it meant even more to (Y/N) to receive the gift knowing it wasn’t Santa. They glanced over at Saiki, knowing it was probably his.

            My parents are giving away my gifts, and yet… Saiki gave them a thumbs-up. I don’t mind.

            (Y/N) grinned, and their heart warmed happily. “Thank you.”

            “All right! I get two presents this year!” cheered Nendou.

            “What? Two?” asked Mr. Saiki. “I thought you’ve never gotten a present.”

            “Yeah, nothing from Santa,” said Nendou. “But I get one from my mom. Every year, while I’m asleep at night, she puts a present next to the pillow. She could just give it to me directly. I wonder why she does it…”

            Everybody deadpanned.

            “He has a nice mom.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “Definitely.” A lightbulb went off in their head. “Oh, did you also think I never got a present? If you did, you can have your gift back, after all, it might be something you wanted, and I—.”

            “Keep it.” Saiki looked at her. His eyes displayed his honesty.

            “Are you sure?”

            Saiki nodded.

            “Thank you.” They reached behind her their and picked up a small, wrapped gift. “Here! It’s your present!”

            He took it from them.

            “Go on, open it,” they encouraged.

            With his x-ray vision, he already saw what was inside, but Saiki was excited and opened it. It was a package of coffee jelly and a keychain shaped like coffee jelly. “Thank you.”

            “Of course! Anything for you!” (Y/N) grinned with closed-eyes at him.

            A tiny smile appeared on his face. Behind them, the sounds of holiday cheer echoed from his parents and Nendou. The tree was glowing, the food wafted delicious smells into the air, and presents were piled under the tree.

            “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

             “Merry Christmas, Saiki.”

Taglist:

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#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusou no psi nan #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki #saiki kusuo #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #tdlosk

[pockettwinzz]

My Heaven - S.JY

୨୧ Warnings ୨୧ : Fluff, Angst, Toxic parents, Kissing, SFW, not proofread

୨୧ A/N ୨୧ : wrote this in a haste cause i really wanted to release smth for the weekend so I apologize if it's bad :3. Also enhypen's releasing a new version of dark moon ><

୨୧ Word count ୨୧ : 1.7k

As you sat in your new college classroom, your mind drifted away from the mundane lecture on ancient history. You couldn't help but wonder how the rest of your college experience would turn out. With your perfect 4.0 GPA from high school, you had been accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the country. However, even though you had been top of your class and had received countless awards and accolades, it seemed that your parents were never truly happy with you. They constantly pressured you to study even harder and to strive for even greater heights.

Meanwhile, Jake, who had coasted through high school with mediocre grades and minimal effort, had been welcomed into this new university with open arms. Everyone seemed to love him, and he was constantly surrounded by a group of friends. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as you watched him laugh and joke with them during the break.

As the semester progressed, you found yourself struggling to keep up with the workload. Your classes were more challenging than you had anticipated, and the constant pressure from your parents only made matters worse. You often found yourself staying up late into the night, hunched over your books, tears streaming down your face as you tried to understand the complex concepts and theories.

Life wasn't going how you wanted it too and seeing others, mostly Jake, sucked up to the professors, get high grades without much effort made you feel even worse. You didn't understand why your parents always thought you were useless. You tried to talk to them about it, to tell them that you were doing your best, but they never listened. They just kept pushing you harder, telling you that you could do better. You started to lose hope, to feel like you were drowning in a sea of academic expectations.

You never knew when it happened, maybe when Jake stole the first position, or maybe when he scored more marks from you on that one chemistry practical, but it was safe to say you hate him. You hated him for being so perfect, for being so loved, for being able to do everything effortlessly while you had to work your ass off to get even a B. You hated him for making your life miserable, for making you feel like you were never good enough, for making you feel like you were nothing but a burden to your parents.

One day, after yet another grueling exam, you decided that you'd had enough. You couldn't take it anymore. You walked up to Jake in the hallway, your hands shaking with anger and frustration. "Why do you get everything so easy?" you demanded, your voice quivering with emotion. "Why does everyone love you and hate me?"

Jake looked taken aback by your outburst, his perfect features twisting into a frown. "What?".

"Why does it always have to be like this?" you cried, your voice cracking. "Why does everyone always love you and hate me? I just want to be normal, just once!" You felt like you were about to burst, like all of the anger and frustration you'd been feeling for so long was building up inside of you, ready to explode. You didn't know why you were telling Jake any of this, but you couldn't help it. You needed someone to understand.

Jake hesitated for a moment, seeming unsure of how to respond. Finally, he took a step closer to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Look, I get it," he said softly. "It's hard sometimes, trying to live up to everyone's expectations. But you know what? You're amazing. You're smart, and talented, and you've got so much to offer. You just need to believe in yourself, okay?"

"Shut up" you snapped, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. "You don't understand anything. You've never had to struggle, never had to fight for anything." You turned away from him, anger and hurt burning in your chest. "Stop pretending to be so nice. I hate it, I hate you"

Jake let out a sigh, looking genuinely hurt. "I'm sorry if I've ever done anything to make you feel that way," he said quietly.

You turned back to him, tears streaming down your face. "It's not just you," you sobbed. "It's everyone. I'm just so tired of feeling like I'm never good enough. I'm tired of feeling like a burden." Jake's expression softened, and he reached out to wipe away a tear from your cheek.

"You're not a burden," he said gently. "And you are good enough. You're more than good enough. You just need to remember that." He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "And you know what? If it means that much to you, I'll help you. I'll help you get through this."

You looked up at him, surprised by his offer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you want me to help you, I will. I'll study with you, or whatever you need. We can work together to get through this," Jake explained, his voice firm but gentle. "Because you're right, it's not fair. You are good enough, and you deserve to be happy. You deserve to have people believe in you."

You felt a strange sensation in your chest, like a warmth spreading through you. You didn't quite understand it, but it was nice. It was nice to feel like someone actually cared. "Really?" you asked, looking up at him. "You'd really help me?"

Jake nodded, his expression sincere. "Yeah, of course I would. We're friends, aren't we? Besides, it's not like I've got everything easy. I've just learned how to deal with it."

As tensions began to ease between you, Jake started to show you a different side of himself. He'd always been considerate and caring, but now those qualities seemed to shine brighter than ever before. He'd listen intently when you spoke, offering thoughtful advice and encouragement. He'd laugh at your jokes, even when they weren't funny, and he'd make an effort to include you in group activities. You began to feel a warmth in your chest whenever he was around.

One day, as you studied together in the library, you noticed Jake looking at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes seemed to hold an intensity that you'd never seen before, and it made you feel both nervous and excited at the same time. As you spoke, he'd occasionally glance at you, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was then that you realized, with a start, that you were in love with him.

Over the next few weeks, your friendship blossomed into something deeper. The way Jake treated you, with respect and admiration, made you feel like the most special person in the world. You found yourself looking forward to spending time with him, just talking or watching a movie. The gentle way he touched your hand when he passed you a pen or the way he'd tease you about your favorite TV shows only served to intensify the feelings you had for him.

One evening, as you studied together in his room, the lights were low and the only sound was the soft rustling of pages. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't even notice how close Jake was sitting to you. You were acutely aware of his presence, of the way his shoulder brushed against yours every time he reached for a pen or turned a page. The air between you seemed to crackle with an electricity that you couldn't quite explain.

As the night wore on, you found yourself glancing up at him more and more often, studying the lines of his face, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his lips moved as he spoke. You felt your heart race every time he looked at you, and you could swear that there was something different in his eyes. Something warm and intense.

You tried to concentrate on your work, but your mind kept wandering, drifting back to the way he'd been acting. You wondered if he felt the same way about you. You wondered what he would do if you confessed your feelings. A part of you was terrified of ruining your friendship, but another part of you longed for something more. Something deep and lasting. Something real.

"J-jake," you stammer, your voice barely audible over the thunder of your heart. "I-I love you." The words hang in the air between you, heavy and palpable, as if they've been weighing on your chest for far too long. You feel your face flush with embarrassment, but at the same time, there's a strange sense of relief in finally getting the words out.

Jake goes still, his eyes widening in surprise. He hesitates for a moment, searching your face, before exhaling softly and leaning in closer. His lips meet yours, tentatively at first, but with a growing intensity that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the sensation of being connected to him. His taste, his smell, the feel of his skin against yours—it's all so familiar and yet so new at the same time. You moan into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting more of him.

Jake responds eagerly, deepening the kiss even further. His tongue dances with yours, teasing and exploring, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the passion building inside of you, a warmth spreading through your entire body. You never knew you could feel this way about someone, this alive, this desired.

As you break away from the kiss, your eyes meet his, and you see the love reflected there. It's a look of wonder and awe, as if he can't quite believe how lucky he is to be sharing this moment with you. He trails his fingers down your cheek, over your jawline, and to your lips again, this time softly tracing their outline.

"I love you too, Yn," he whispers. "I've loved you for a long time."

Your heart soars at his words, and you feel a newfound sense of joy and security wash over you. You realize that this is what you've always wanted, to be truly loved and cherished by someone as wonderful as Jake. You lean in and kiss him again, this time with more passion and longing, as if you could never get enough of his lips on yours.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡Permanent Taglist ༘˚⋆𐙚｡ @cha-eui @alvojake @heeslut4life @wondipity @dollywons @wonlvkay

{reply or send ask to be added Minors + blogs w/o ages DNI}

#enhypen #pockettwinzz writes #enha x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader #enhypen jake #jake sim #enhypen fluff #sim jaeyun #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #jake x y/n #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake angst #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #dividers by dollywons #moodboards by pockettwinzz #sfw

[sylenth-l]

hello! hunter age anon back once moe with another question!!! (sorry ig yhis gets annoying!!!)

i want to ask about Cayde's dynamic with andal!!! like, how to portray their relationship and maybe cayde's general psyche when it comes to people and forming bonds.

Not at all, I love getting questions about my guys!! (I'm just bad at answering them aksdjhflks OTL)

It's… complicated, I'm never sure how to describe characters' relationships with words. I know it sounds incredibly cheesy, but to me Andal and Cayde are two halves of a whole, one feels incomplete without the other. Even if we're talking about them being just friends, they're the type who always show up everywhere together and if for some reason they aren't, they'll be texting each other non-stop still. "We're two halves of a whole idiot" - that's literally them.

You could say that they knew and understood each other perfectly, but I feel like while it's true in general everyday scenarios, on a grander scale Andal always had an upper hand in that. He knew Cayde like the back of his hand, he trusted him and believed in him far more than Cayde ever thought of himself. Cayde however wasn't exactly that sharp when it came to serious things about which Andal avoided speaking head-on - like, Cayde couldn't understand why Andal takes his Vanguard duty so seriously. It was only after he spent years as the Hunter Vanguard himself that he started to get what Andal must've felt. I don't think it's Cayde's fault or something though - Andal most likely barely ever talked about that, and he himself didn't exactly need people talking about their feelings to understand them.

I think it's safe to say, judging by how everyone speak of him and the leadership positions he seemingly effortlessly always ended up in, that Andal just gets people, he understands them extremely well and can find a common language with just about anyone. He was the one who made "significant progress in faction accords". What kind of person you must be to make faction leaders come to an agreement, at that time especially??? Convincing, sharp and charming sounds like an understatement alksdhfkjaks

So, I think it was that quality that helped Andal almost immediately see right through all of Cayde's clowney facades. And his own kindness and honesty pretty much left Cayde totally disarmed. Andal got to know him - the real him - and loved him, thought of him as his best friend. And made damn sure Cayde was aware of that as well. That's actually so, so incredibly important - because with the way Cayde is, he constantly thinks that deep down people surrounding him either dislike him or are disappointed in him. No matter how much time they spend together, it's not something he himself will just get one day because "well it's OBVIOUS" or something. His relationship with Ikora and Zavala are probably the most striking example of that. Ikora says he was one of her closest friends - Cayde says he's not sure if Ikora even likes him. The City is flooded with Cabal, lightless Guardians scattered all over the system, humanity is in shambles - and Cayde is genuinely surprised Zavala is looking for him and needs him. He leaves messages for both of them in case they kill him, making it sound like he wouldn't be surprised at all if they did. That… really shows the abysmal gap of misunderstanding between them, to put it lightly.

But Andal! Cayde never once doubted Andal and Andal's feelings for him. The good old days he speaks so fondly of is the time when he ran around the Solar system with Andal and their pack. Even if he sometimes laments that Andal is too serious and bad with jokes, that seriousness and honesty is actually just another proof that if Andal says so, then he really does like him and is impressed by whatever Cayde wanted to impress him with this time. 

I think it's probably one of, if not the most important part of what made Andal so incredibly special to Cayde - that freedom of being able to be equally honest with him, be real. Goofing off because he simply wants to goof off - not because he prefers to give people lower standards so that they won't be disappointed in him when he fails. Sharing his muddy concerns and fears that he barely even can put into words, knowing it won't be laughed at or brushed off as unimportant. Absolutely everything got better instantly if they were in it together. The mere presence of one of them in close proximity immediately cheered the other up.

I don't know, I can talk about them for hours and still not say what I wanted to say. I always miss the most important stuff somehow, no matter how many words I pour in. Honestly, I think that to better understand what was happening between them, all you have to do is to (re)read "The Man They Call Cayde" - literally half of it is basically Cayde's love letter to Andal.

#ask #destiny #candal #there i made myself cry about them again thanks a lot <3 #no heterosexual explanation to their whole situation sorry