#daveed fluff

[imagoofygoober]

Dave Lizewski being a REALLY clingy sleeper. Like he physically smothers you in his sleep, all cute and disheveled, groaning when you move.

tbh I didn't think anyone would actually request something but I'm literally so happy someone did.So thank you!!! And I totally agree! Like- when you try to get up because you need to pee or something and he just squeezes you tighter and grumbles something incoherent- I need help,I am so down bad for this man.

P.S - sorry if it's bad,this is my first fic. :')

Dave Lizewski x reader

Prompt: fluff

Warnings: None.

Summary: After a long night of patrolling,all Dave wanted to do was to take off this suit,take a warm shower and curl up under the blankets with his amazing partner; you.

Dave huffs softly as he trudges along the New York City streets,his body tired and heavy feeling.He swore if he even sat down somewhere he'd probably fall asleep- Hell,he could probably fall asleep while he was still walking.But as he keeps going,he spots a familiar white mailbox with hand-painted flowers on it,and he immediately smiles.

He walks a bit faster now,though it was still a bit sluggish.After a moment he makes it to the side of your house where your bedroom window is.He gently knocks on the glass,his lips curled into a smile as he watches your head turn towards the window and your lips curve as well.

You look up from your homework from today at the sound of tapping against your bedroom window.You smile as you see the familiar green wet-suit paired with that adorable smile you love oh so much.You stand from your desk and make your way over to the window,opening the curtains wider before sliding the window open and moving out of the way so he can climb through.

"Hey,Davey." You say as he crawls through your window.You shut the window after he's in,making sure that the curtains are closed completely to keep Kick-Ass's true identity a secret,before turning to him.

"Hey,baby." He says as he takes off his mask and sits it on top of your dresser before opening a drawer,digging through it.

"I'm gonna go take a shower,okay?" He says,looking at you as he moves over to the bathroom door in your room,placing his hand on the doorknob.He watches you nod before heading into the bathroom.

You smile more as you sit on your bed,watching as he rummages through your clothes to find something big enough to fit him the way he likes.After a minute or so,he grabs a pair of your sweatpants and one of your t-shirts.Well,it was his shirt that you had stolen the last time you were at his house.Not that he cared though.

_

After a while,he emerges from the bathroom,freshly clean and smelling of your body wash.He frowns a bit when he sees you sitting at your desk again and walks over to you.He leans down and wraps his arms around you,burying his face into your neck.

"I'm tired.." he says,his voice slightly muffled from your skin.

"Go to sleep then." you say as you continue to write stuff down on your paper,leaning into him a bit.

He shakes his head slightly before lifting his head so his nose nudges against your cheek,his eyes half-lidded.

"I want you to go to sleep with me though.." he says with a slight pout.

"I have to finish my homework." You say,your eyes still on the paper but the feeling of him against you,holding you,is starting to get distracting.

"Please?" he pleads softly as he looks at you with those big blue puppy dog eyes.

And with that,your a goner.Who could say no when he asked oh so nicely?

_

A few hours later,your eyes crack open,your mouth dry.You blink a few times,letting your eyes adjust to the darkness before looking down.Dave is still dead asleep and his limbs are wrapped around you like a koala,his face buried in your chest.

'Cute..' you thought with a small tired smile before trying to pull away from him to get up and get a glass of water,but he tightens his arms around you with a soft groan,grumbling something incoherently in his sleep as he nuzzles his face deeper into your chest.

You try a few more times,but each attempt has the same reaction from him.You try one last time,and this time he moves so he's practically laying on top of you,his face buried in your neck.

"No.." he mutters softly into your neck before relaxing on top of you,slipping back into his deep sleep.

You let out a soft groan as he lays on top of you,realizing that you aren't getting up anytime soon.You wrap your arms back around him and relax,going back to sleep with Daves weight pinning you to the bed.

[fawnnlvr]

sixth shot | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid × fem!bau!reader

masterlist

summary: after each alcoholic shot, you go through drunk phases that the bau have documented, but out of all the times you all have gone out drinking, they never know what happens if you take a sixth shot.

word count: 2.3k

inspiration: that one scene in brooklyn 99 where the others try to see what happens to my queen amy santiago.

content warning: alcohol use. cringe. first time writing a spencer reid fic. maybe a part 2 because the ending has a lot of loose ends.

author's note: i just started watching criminal minds maybe last week. i just finished s1 and i have been nonstop writing fic ideas and this one stuck with me so enjoy my lovebugs. i steered off track as i wrote this so it's a bit of a mess but :3 also, throughout this entire fic, i think you'll be able to tell that i have never really gotten drunk in my life. only half a soju bottle and a bit of my dignity ꪆৎ (UPDATE LIKE MONTHS LATER. rewrite because i rewatched b99 and this oneshot is so yikes. like oml i wrote this terribly)

Working as an agent at the BAU means that the people you work with are the people you spend most of your life with. Solving cases and locking away criminals is what you bond over and this cones with being with each other through the highs and lows. These nights were one of the highs. After solving a long case, Rossi had made plans for everybody to head back to his place to celebrate over drinks.

You expected the night to be filled with fun and love, but this was the BAU, nothing could ever be great without an underlying evil that preyed on one's downfall. This underlying evil just so happened to be some of your closest friends and coworkers. Well, all of them. As you prepared and got ready for a night of what you think to be fun, you didn't expect people you considered family to be plotting against you.

"What do you guys think will happen?" Penelope asked her phone, an eager smile detected through her tone. She was currently on a five way call with Spencer, Morgan, JJ, and Emily.

"I think after her fifth shot, little miss princess will start doing backflips." Morgan put in his bet.

"I think it'll be too much for her and she'll throw up on Rossi's carpet." JJ guessed

"What are we even talking about?" Emily asked, confused as to what they were talking about and that's when she heard Penelope gasp.

"Right! Prentiss doesn't know about her drinking phases. Spencer, go explain it!" Penelope eagerly ordered.

"I-I don't know. This feels kind of wro-"

"Do it!" Penelope interrupted.

"Fine. When [Name] starts drinking, she has these phases after every shot. After her first shot, she can't seem to stop laughing and will simply laugh at anything around her for no apparent reason. On her second shot, she is wandering the place. She can't stay still. On her third shot, she's dancing-"

"We once found her dancing with this elderly woman who was busting it down on the dance floor." Morgan laughed. "She even pulled Spencer out on the dance floor when we went to the club."

Spencer blushed at the reminder before continuing, "On her fourth shot, she's crying. She gets really emotional and it doesn't seem like anybody can stop her from crying unless you give her another shot and by her fifth shot, she's back to dancing."

"Which leads us back to our hypothesis." JJ explained, "What happens to our dear little agent once she has her sixth shot."

"And this is the perfect time to test it out." Penelope explained.

The BAU house party at Rossi's was nice in your opinion. He made his delicious Italian dishes and brought out the alcohol. Morgan and Penelope were sweet enough to bring their own alcohol too and offered you a lot. If only you could've seen the evil smirks of those who handed you each shot.

Spencer watched from afar as you were being handed shots and happily accepting them. He planned on staying to the sides and watching over you, making sure you didn't get hurt, but that soon changed when Morgan offered him a shot in the shape or a chemical tube and he couldn't resist the creative packaging.

You were now on your third shot. Spencer knew this due to your little robot dance by the beat-box with JJ who matched your energy. It was a funny sight to see; however, that smile quickly dropped when you made eye contact with him and walked towards him with a mischievous smile. You stopped about two meters away from him and imitated the moves of a fisher casting his line. He rolled his eyes at your attempt to make him do the stupid dance move. The goofy smile on your face as you starting to roll the fishing line towards him, and your encouraging nod made it difficult to resist you.

He wanted to say he didn't succumb to your odd ways but he did as he jumped your way. Yes, he knows he looked stupid but all he could focus on was your proud smile as soon as he reached you.

He had wished that moment lasted a little longer but Morgan came around with another round of shots and happily gave it to you. Spencer said that he wasn't interested and tried to get you to do the same but you didn't, instead it backfired on him.

"Oooo, more for me then. Double!" You grabbed both shots.

"I don't think that's a good i-" You already downed them before Spencer could finish those words and you felt a bit dizzy from the disgusting taste it left in your mouth. This would technically be considered your fifth shot but you've never taken a double before and Spencer supposed it would have the same effect as if taken separately, but your reaction proved otherwise.

You should be back on the dancefloor once the alcohol set it, but Spencer brought you to on of Rossi's kitchen island stools to sit down. He spotted Derek, Penelope, JJ and Emily both staring at them with hawk eyes, knowing they are one shot away from finding out what happens on her sixth shot. Spencer shook his head at their antics and looked back at you to find... that you were nowhere to be seen.

There you stood with Rossi, trying to imitated a traditional dance he was teaching. Italian music played in the background as Rossi showed you how he dances. You were smiley and asked if you did it right and he nodded and encouraged the others to join. Oh wow, you were a stealthy little handful. Spencer sighed in relief as he saw you felt a little better.

Spencer Reid had many degrees and phds but none of them could really tell him the phenomenon behind your drunk phases. It worried him what would happen next. Sure your first five stages were nothing terrible, it was all in good fun except for your emotional crying stage. However, what if you have your sixth shot and it pushes you over the limit and you end up throwing up or passing out. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out, especially since you never had any more shots after your fifth since you were so tired of dancing and talking that you declined any more.

All the other times you and him have gone out drinking, you normally ended up in a secluded area in the bar and drank some water or ordered some bar food and waited to sober up a little bit. Spencer never tried offering you another drink but Derek has and youd always decline. Sure, he too was curious, but if you had a reason to abstain then you had a reason and he didn't want to push it.

You had always known what would happen after your fifth shot. It was not cute. Well, to you it wasn't, but to the group of friends you hung out with as soon as you turned 21, it was. Drinking more than five shots was not in your best interest, especially being at a party with your colleagues and boss. It didn't matter how drunk they were, you didn't want to risk it because you knew how you'd get.

Despite being five shots in, you still had some sense of sobriety and knew how to decline drinks. But that double took its tow on you, and who could decline another shot being offered by the cute little Penelope. As you sat on the couch, exhausted from dancing with Rossi, you simply watched the moving pictures on the television with a slightly entertained smile. Hotch was on the singular person holding couch while you took the bigger one. He eyed you weirdly as you chuckled at the screen static.

That was when Penelope sat down with a shot glass you couldn't resist. She told you she bought edible glitter and ordered a special shot glass with a Persian cat printed on it. You gasped at the sight as Penelope gave you such a nice gift.

"You're a sweetheart Penelope. Thank you!" You genuinely said, warmed at her kindness. She told you it was no problem at all and told you she'll be over with Derek if she needed anything. You nodded and admired the pretty shot glass before taking it and setting it down with a content smile.

"Mission accomolished." Penelope smiled as she high-fived Derek and JJ while Emily stood beside them, watching. Spencer shook his head from beside Penelope.

"What's wrong pretty boy?" Morgan asked.

"I'm going to give her some water. She might throw up or something."

"Relax, she's only on her sixth shot. Alcohol posoining from vodka takes like what, 13-16." Morgan stated.

"That only applies to males over 160 pounds which she is neither. With her height and estimated weight, she's about two shots from trouble and we don't know how she'll react." Spencer stated and grabbed a closed water bottle before walking it over to you.

JJ leaned closer to the three, "Do you think Spencer can see how much he cares for her?"

"Pretty boy has had his eyes set on her since the moment she walked in." Morgan chuckled. "It's only about time."

Derek stared at Penelope who had an evil smirk.

"What's going on?" Emily asked, very confused. It seems like she missed something.

"You'll see." JJ smiled and gestured back over to the couch.

Penelope was like a bubble. She floated around person to person and everybody loved how innocent and non-deceiving she seemed, but she likes to have her fun too. People often confided in her and that's how she learns many of the agents' secret. Secrets they don't think is anything worthwhile, but to Penelope, she just hit the jackpot. You see, Penelope has always known what happens when you little miss princess drinks her sixth shot. She always has ever since she walked you home one day from a night of drinking and you confessed that you didn't want to drink anymore because of one thing...

You get embarrassingly clingy.

"Hey. I got you some water." Spencer sat down right beside you and opened the water bottle, handing it to you.

You took your eyes off the screen and melted into a smile as you saw him in arm's distance. "Doctor Spencer!" You opened your arms and gently wrapped them around his neck, lifting just slightly from the couch to match the height.

"W-What?" He stuttered as he made sure the water didn't spill on you. His arms were flared out, not wanting to touch you while you were in an intoxicated state. He could smell the perfume you sprayed on your hair and neck hours ago and the fragrant filled his brain. You pulled away with the same dopey smile and held eye contact with him.

Your body was fully turned towards him; your leg closest to him was bent and placed on the couch so you could fully face him. Your hand rested on his knee, "I feel like you've been gone forever."

You repositioned yourself and scooted closer to Spencer who was now stuck between you and the couch arm. He had already closed the water bottle at this point and dropped it on the carpeted floor. You ignored the small thud and wrapped your arms around his and rested your head on his arm. He felt you melt into his arm and simply relax in his presence.

He was frozen. He couldn't move. It was as if he stared into Medusa's eyes and became a stone statue. He couldn't even move his eyes to see the reactions of the ones that organized it.

"This feels nice." You dreamily sighed and Spencer could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He kept his hands to his sides, avoiding touching you.

"I-I should go." He managed to utter out, but he couldnt escape your grip.

"Why? Do you hate me?" You asked, looking up at him with a small frown and furrowed eyebrows.

"N-No! Of course not." He eeped in a high pitch voice as he felt you intertwine your hand with his.

"Then don't go. Don't leave me." You smiled as you felt him settle back in his seat.

Spencer frantically looked at somebody for help but found everybody paying no attention and giving them their space. Hotch was on call with his wife and brushdd off his eyes that screamed S.O.S and those who set this up were innocently eating dessert in the kitchen. It didn't take a genius profiler to know that he, Spencer Reid, had been played. So Spencer accepted his fate.

It wasn't a bad fate to accept. He looked at the woman on his arm and felt himself sink into the cushions of the couch. This wasn't too bad. He looked down at you as soon as you looked up at him. You smiled and he reciprocated it.

"Hug me." You ordered. It was a soft order. A small command that barely escaped your lips. Who was he to deny a small action that would've made you smile even more.

He carefully moved his hand that you held onto and brought it around your shoulder. You wasted no time to connect your hands back together and mindlessly played with his fingers.

You weren't sure how you got back home. You were on your bed, still in the clothes you wore the night before but in a cardigan you remember all too well. As the memories of last night slowly re-entered your mind, you didn't what any normal person would've done and screamed in horror.

Penelope, who was sleeping on the other side of the bed, immediately shot up in fear. "What happened?!"

"My life is over." You cried out, dramatically falling into your pillow and hiding your face with your hands before you came to a realization. "You planned that didn't you? I should've known something was up when you decorated that last shot so beautifully that I had no choice but to drink it and reveal the most embarassing part of my drunk stage."

"I'm sorry honey but at least you were the little cutey you always are." Penelope said, thankful that you werent getting murdered and was just embarassed.

"What happened after that last shot?" You were scared to hear the answer and Penelope's answer reinforced that notion. With each action she listed, you felt yourself getting ready to jump out the window from the third story of your apartment building. "I can never face Spencer again. I need to change my identity and- and - and leave."

Apparently after your little stunt on the couch, you refused to let go of Spencer, even when it wss time to go. You only let go of him when you saw Penelope. You threw your arms around her and gave her a hug as well, then went down the line. Penelope got ready to walk you home since you planned in a sleepover afterwards, but apparently, you threw yourself back on Spencer when he tried leaving too soon. You don't even want to try and remember what happened after that.

A whole mess. A whole mess that you created with the terrible influence of Penelope and those she employed in her little act. A mess that you would need to face and deal with. Oh the stress.

You buried your head in your pillow and tried to forget reality. This was a nightmare.

[ticifics]

hi!!! im sorry i dont request often, but ive been so in love with ur fics... my atj obsession is coming back full force and you write dave soooo well <33

maybe a fic where reader isn't exactly popular (pretty and maybe has a few close friends) and has a big crush on dave? like she can't understand how he's 'invisible to girls', cause she stares at him in whatever classes they both have, and she stands at her locker for forever just staring longingly at him and he never notices. maybe her best friend tries to convince her to talk to him eventually ..

was thinking it could be sfw and maybe fluffy (maybe a little angsty if you want) idk!!! thank you for considering it if you do, and im excited for what other work you have lined up ❤️

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: in which Dave doesn't notice any of your signals

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, idiots in love, no use of y/n

A/N: SO SO SO SORRY, I know it's been forever since you sent this request, but I only just got around to doing something. I kind of lost count of how many times I started and deleted this fic. If you read this, I appreciate you not giving up on me, and thank you so much for the message, it was very very kind and I can only thank you for those sweet words. I hope you can enjoy this, darling (and I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request)

You always looked at him.

Sometimes subtly, when he walked down the school hallway with that casual stride, balancing his backpack on one shoulder, his headphones hanging around his neck, his brown curls falling slightly over his forehead. Other times, you didn’t even try to hide it, like when he laughed at something stupid during lunch and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses, or when you saw him from afar during gym class, not understanding how no one else noticed how good he looked in that blue shirt.

It was a mystery to you. How was it possible that no girl at school looked at Dave Lizewski? How was it possible that no one saw what you saw?

"You should just tell him you like him and get it over with," your friend casually remarked, while you checked your phone for the thousandth time, waiting for Dave’s reply.

You pretended not to hear, but the heat on your face gave you away.

That was it. You liked him. More than you should like a friend you only exchanged messages with and talked to when you bumped into each other in the hallways. More than you should like someone who, probably, didn’t see any of it.

So, when Dave suggested you two go to the movies together to watch a Batman re-release, you tried not to overthink it.

But that became impossible when you found yourself standing in front of the mirror for too long, adjusting your top, letting your hair down and tying it up three times before deciding which way looked the least intentional. Your hands were a little sweaty, and you rolled your eyes at yourself when you realized you had chosen that specific perfume, the one that always made someone comment on how good you smelled.

It was just Dave.

Just Dave, who got adorably awkward when you accidentally complimented him. Just Dave, who laughed at your bad jokes and sent stupid memes in the middle of the night. Just Dave, who—when he met you in front of the theater—stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, blinked a few times, and without even trying to hide it, gave you that quick once-over from head to toe before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

"You look… uh, different today."

You raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Different how?"

Dave opened and closed his mouth once, clearly trying to choose his words. His curls fell slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head to the side, and he made that unconscious motion of pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Pretty."

It was a bit hesitant, but genuine enough to make the heat rise to your cheeks.

"I’m always pretty," you joked, trying to keep your composure.

Dave smiled that awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know."

And then, as if realizing he was giving too much away, he pointed toward the theater doors. "We should go in."

He was right. But as you passed through the ticket booth and grabbed your tickets, you could still feel his gaze on you from time to time.

The theater was packed, and the tight seats meant you were close enough that when he moved, his knee brushed against yours.

The room darkened, and soon the movie started. You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy when every little movement of his caught your attention. The way he leaned over to grab more popcorn and, in the process, his fingers brushed against yours, his warm skin against yours in a fleeting touch that left an uncomfortable awareness in its wake. As if, somehow, that brief contact was more significant than it should have been.

He didn’t seem to notice. He just stayed there, leaning on the armrest, relaxed, his eyes lit up by the glow of the screen. Every now and then, he’d bite his lower lip without realizing it, an unconscious habit of concentration that made something twist in your stomach. His jaw looked more defined like that, and you felt an annoying urge to look longer than you should.

And then he leaned in.

You felt it before you saw it. The movement beside you, the sudden warmth of his presence getting closer, and then his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered:

"Did you know Christian Bale almost lost the role because they thought he was too skinny?"

It sent an immediate shiver down your spine.

Maybe it was the fact that his voice came out lower than necessary, raspy on purpose or by accident. Or maybe it was because he was close, close in a way that didn’t seem normal for two friends watching a movie. His face was almost touching yours, and your mind made a stupid connection, the kind that should’ve been ignored: if you turned your head just a little, if you leaned an inch in the wrong direction, his lips would touch yours.

You swallowed hard.

"Is that true?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, and he chuckled softly, as if he noticed.

"He gained like 100 pounds of muscle in six months."

"Is that even possible?" You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the screen, as if ignoring the proximity would be enough to not feel every detail of it.

"If you’re Batman, it is."

The reply came in an almost playful whisper, and then he pulled back as if nothing had happened, leaning back into his seat.

Unlike you, who stayed there, absorbing the fact that your heart was beating way too fast for something that was supposedly nothing.

But it wasn’t just that.

His fingers were still close to yours on the armrest between the seats, so close that if either of you moved, the touches would repeat. You noticed when he grabbed more popcorn and his knuckles brushed lightly against your skin. Maybe you were imagining things, but he didn’t seem in such a hurry to move his hand away this time.

The movie went on, and by this point, you couldn’t tell if you were following the story or just the small details about him. The way he shifted in his seat, the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling with his breath, the warmth radiating from him so close to you.

His voice came low, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Did your soda run out?"

You blinked, needing a second to process the question, before realizing that yes, the cup of soda next to you was empty.

"Yeah."

"Then have some of mine. You must be thirsty after all that popcorn."

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been. But when he tilted the cup toward you, you hesitated for a moment. Your eyes met his, and Dave smiled slightly, waiting for you to take the cup.

So you took it.

You brought the straw to your mouth and drank, feeling the cold soda running down your throat. But that wasn’t all you felt. Dave was watching. Not just casually. He didn’t look away the next second, didn’t glance at the screen as if nothing had happened. He was watching.

When you lowered the cup and handed it back to him, your fingers touched for a moment. Warm, slightly sticky from the popcorn salt, but still soft. Dave blinked a few times, as if processing something, and then drank from the same straw without a second thought.

The rest of the movie went on like that. Little moments that made it seem like you were something more. You whispered that you wanted to try the chocolate he bought, and he offered it, holding the candy near your mouth almost casually. Later, he made a comment about some scene, and you replied softly, leaning your face closer to his than necessary. It was all a silent game that neither of you seemed willing to admit you were playing.

But then the movie ended.

You needed to go to the bathroom, and Dave murmured that he’d wait outside. You nodded, adjusted your jacket, and walked away, trying to ignore the silly feeling that you were leaving something behind.

It was when you came back that you felt something strange.

There he was, standing near the theater exit, and right in front of him was a girl. You didn’t know her, but you recognized that smile. A sugary smile, a deliberate lean of her body toward him. She laughed softly, playing with her hair, saying something that made Dave furrow his brows, confused. And then you understood.

She was flirting with him.

And he had no idea.

Your body froze mid-step. It was stupid, but for a moment, you felt a strange weight in your chest. What would happen if, suddenly, someone started seeing in him what you saw? If someone looked at him and saw exactly what you saw? If someone fell for Dave Lizewski the way you were falling for him?

Your stomach churned.

That’s when he looked at you.

His face lit up in the same second, and he smiled—that genuine, easy smile he didn’t give to the girl in front of him. He muttered something quickly to her, nothing rude, just a hurried goodbye, and then started walking toward you.

And you, who still felt the heaviness in your chest, didn’t know what to do when he stopped beside you and asked, as if nothing had happened:

"Let's go?”

You could still feel the warmth of the movie theater on your skin, the memory of your fingers brushing against the popcorn, the brief touch of your hands, the low sound of his voice, raspy and almost lazy, echoing in your ear. It was absurd how every detail seemed amplified now, as if the simple fact of being alone on this walk made everything feel more real.

Dave adjusted the collar of his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, and took two quick steps to align himself beside you. He always did that—making sure you walked together, close, your shoulders almost touching with every movement. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and just let out a short sigh.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t get the image of the girl at the theater out of your mind. Or the way she looked at him, or the casual way Dave stood there, listening, completely unaware.

"She was pretty."

The words came out suddenly, and Dave turned his head toward you, slightly confused. "What?"

"The girl at the theater." You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on the path. "She was pretty."

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out where you were going with this. Then he shrugged. "Yeah."

It was a small, indifferent sound. But for some reason, it annoyed you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, and looked at him. "And she was flirting with you."

Dave furrowed his brows, laughing lightly, as if that were absurd. "No, she wasn’t."

"Yes, she was."

"No, she wasn’t."

You stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop too, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden hesitation. The cold wind passed between you, but all you felt was the heat rising to your face.

"You’re too much of an idiot to notice."

His smile faltered a little, and Dave opened his mouth, as if to retort, but couldn’t find the words.

"I’m not an idiot." He sounded slightly offended, furrowing his brows in a way that only made him seem more naive.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"Then tell me," you challenged, tilting your head to the side, crossing your arms as you stared at him. "If a girl were flirting with you, would you notice?"

Dave let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head. "Obviously."

"No, you wouldn’t."

"I would."

"You wouldn’t."

He rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated way. "Okay, then. How are you so sure about that?"

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t think much. You just looked at him, at his messy curls and blue eyes behind his glasses, at the face you knew so well and at the answer that had been begging to come out for a long time.

"Because I’ve been giving you every possible sign, and you haven’t noticed."

The silence that followed your confession wasn’t empty.

It was heavy, loaded with something indescribable, something that tightened your chest and made the air feel denser around you.

Dave stood in front of you, his face partially lit by the nearest streetlight, his hair casting shadows over his eyes. But even with the poor lighting, you could see it.

The shock.

His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze fixed on yours, unblinking, and the expression that took over his face was a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage, the pulse vibrating in every extremity of your body. Your hands were cold, but the heat rising to your face was almost unbearable.

You had said it.

You had said it out loud.

And now there was no turning back.

Nervousness washed over you like a wave, sweeping away any trace of courage that remained. Your chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and your fingers moved slightly, restless, before you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"I like you, Dave."

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but it was too late to fix it.

Dave blinked, as if the words had just hit him with full force.

"I’ve liked you for a while. A long time." You forced a short laugh, looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. "But you never noticed."

He wet his lips, looking away, at anything that wasn’t you, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed again, without a single word coming out.

"Dave," you called, and he finally looked at you again.

His eyes were intense now, as if they were trying to absorb every detail of you, every tiny movement.

You felt the hesitation in the air.

The weight of what had just happened.

But then, he did something unexpected.

With an almost hesitant movement, Dave slowly raised his hand, as if testing his own limits, as if he still couldn’t believe he could touch you. His fingers brushed against the sleeve of your jacket before finally holding your forearm, the touch light, uncertain, but real.

"I’m an idiot."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, and the way he said it made your chest tighten in a strange way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued:

"I—" Dave took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I didn’t notice because..." He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm. "Because I never thought it was possible."

Your heart stopped for a second.

His eyes were locked on yours, and there was something so genuine there, something so true, that you felt your throat close up.

"I never thought you could like me."

The confession was soft, said with a half-smile that didn’t match the uncertainty shining in his eyes.

And in that moment, you realized.

You realized he wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t feel the same.

He was hesitating because he had always felt it.

Because he had always wanted it, but never thought he was allowed to want it.

You felt your breathing quicken, and the distance between you seemed smaller now, your bodies leaning in an almost imperceptible way, as if drawn to each other.

Dave blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to understand the reality of the situation. As if he were trying to memorize this moment, to store it somewhere safe inside himself.

And then, he laughed.

Soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and shook his head. "I really am an idiot."

You let out a weak laugh, the nervousness still pulsing inside you, but now mixed with something else.

Something warm.

Something good.

Dave lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip before looking at you again, and then he did it again—that subtle movement of leaning closer. Not enough to break the last barrier between you, but enough for you to feel his warmth in the air, for every cell in your body to be aware of his presence.

"Tell me it’s not too late for me to notice now."

His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense, blue and fixed on you as if nothing else in the world existed.

And the answer came before you could even think.

"Of course it’s not."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x best friend fem!reader

Summary: Dave is devastated by your supposed crush on his alter-ego, Kick-Ass.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluff

Warnings: jealous!Dave, swearing, not explicitly consensual kissing (both of them are okay with it however!), blood

~ thank you for requesting, anon!! this was a very cute idea!~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

The comic store was more crowded than usual that afternoon. You, Todd, Marty, and Dave had squeezed into your usual booth, with you and Dave squished shoulder to shoulder as he rambles on and on as you stare at the small TV in the corner which is playing more news coverage about Kick-Ass. Your cheeks feel significantly warmer.

"She's drooling again," Marty quips, and all three boys turn and look at you with interest. 

"Who knew girls were so horny," Todd comments with a smirk and sucks his milkshake obnoxiously.

Dave, unlike the other two, looks positively flustered as he watches you. His eyes land on the screen and then on yours.

"Hm, doesn't the suit look good on him," you hum and sigh, turning to your friends with a serious expression. "Do'you think he's young? He looks young."

"Looks around our age, so I suppose that means you're free to bone him, Y/n." Todd shrugs. 

That makes Dave blush crimson.

You slap Todd's arm from across the table. "Shut up."

"We all know you want to," Marty adds and sips his milkshake like he knows something. You chew on your lip, subconsciously leaning into Dave as you turn back to look at the TV and let out an amused sigh as your eyes stay glued onto the screen. 

This isn't the first time you're pining over Kick-Ass. You've been doing it for a while now and it makes Dave blush every damn time. Some part of him feels like an asshole for feeling that way about you considering you aren't drooling over him. Not over Dave, your best friend.

No, you're drooling over a superhero who is completely different from himself. His alter-ego, someone who is undeniably so much better than him. 

How can Dave Lizes ever compete with Kick-Ass?

Todd kicks him in the shin but you're too entranced to sense the tension.  

"What?" Dave mouths and his cheeks flame crimson when Todd points between you and him and makes obnoxious kissing noises. Dave sends his friends a frown and shushes them with a shake of his head. Luckily for him, you aren't paying any attention as you watch the screen, your mind focused on only one thing. 

How does Kick-Ass look so damn good in that stupid costume?

* * *

Sirens go off as Dave limps away, blood staining his lip. He's not badly hurt, just a little shaken up. It isn't like he could feel much of the pain anyway. He sniffs and wipes a hand under his lip, groaning. The air is cold and the night is cloudy. He's been so preoccupied by you that he's been shit at his job—or worse than usual. 

Dave prepares to walk home when he hears a small sniffle from behind a tree in the park he's walking by. He frowns,something stirring in his chest as if pulling him toward the sound. 

Someone could be hurt. 

He forces some bravado as he rounds the park gate and approaches the tree, the sniffling becoming louder. 

His body stiffens when he sees you huddled behind a dress, wearing that dress you'd shown him a thousand pictures of. Realization dawns on him. Corey Addams. You did have a date with him tonight. 

That dickhead.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out weirdly interrogating as Dave's voice lowers in an attempt to have him be unrecognizable to you and you jump, looking up as you frantically paw at your teary cheeks.

Dave feels like a jerk as he watches your face morph into one of panic and he kneels down, now panicked in his own way. "Hey, hey, it's okay. M' not gonna hurt you. Are you okay?"

He's fumbling with his words, unsure if he's even doing the right thing. You blink at him, your eyes still watery. Dave knows you have a crush on Kick-Ass so this must be extra embarrassing and in his panic, he looks you up and down and fakes a much too insightful educated guess as a way to make you comfortable. 

"Did you just get dumped?"

You scrunch up your nose in confusion and shake your head. Your crying has ceased and you huddle your arms around your legs, resting your chin on your knee. You sigh and look around at the mostly empty park.

"I'm hopeless," you say, not looking at Kick-Ass in particular. 

Dave swallows and fully sits down now, unsure what else he can do. As a superhero he wants to make sure you're safe, and as your best friend, he has a burning desire to stay with you. You turn to him and chuckle out a laugh, sniffling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, confused.

"Me. I'm a fucking joke," you whisper, laughing as you try not to cry again. "I'm so stupid."

"Why do you say that?" Dave asks in a rush, his voice high again. You're too busy self-loathing to hear the change. 

"Because I spend all my fucking time pretending that the one boy I am in love with, I am not actually in love with him! A-and then I go around trying to forget him with any boy that smiles my way or simply walks by and they're never good enough."

Dave thinks you're talking about Kick-Ass and he panics even more. "I-"

"Like how fucking stupid am I? Rambling on and on about you when all I want is him?"

Dave's heart sinks. Shit, he thinks, so you must be talking about Corey then.

After a beat of silence, he says, "I'm sure your date likes you back." He assumes you're most likely overwhelmed since you had said Corey didn't dump you and it's late and—

"My date?" you laugh, "What are you talking about? No. Not my date. My best friend," you ramble on, tears still falling. "I love him and I've messed it up too many times pretending like I don't. I- and Corey told me David's in love with Katie and I just feel so stupid."

You're too distraught to catch on to how weird it is that Kick-Ass has more information about your date than he should as you ramble on and on to him as if he understands who everyone is. Dave can tell you're mostly just speaking out your frustrations. 

"D-David?"

You nod, sniffling. "Dave. My best friend, the guy I'm in love with," you tell him and look at Kick-Ass, groaning immediately and then holding your face in your hands like you'd just done something shameful. "Fuck, I'm sorry, this is inappropriate. I'm so sorry I am wasting your time—"

You lower your hands and then he's kissing you before you can finish the sentence. His hands cup around your cheeks as he leans in and continues to kiss you.

You lose yourself in the moment for a bit, your very real yet superficial attraction to Kick-Ass kicking in as you kiss him back until reality finally snaps in and you push him away, scrambling up. 

"What the fuck?!" you scream, feeling violated as you wipe your lips with your hand.

Dave panics now fumbles with his costume. "W-Wait, let me explain," he mutters as he frantically pulls at the zipper behind his neck and throws his mask onto the dirt. He looks up, brown curls falling in front of his eyes. Your eyes widenand you blink at him. 

"Hi," Dave mumbles, his blue eyes shining as the tips of his ears burn. 

"Fuck!" you shriek and lean forward, kneeling again as you now cover his face with your hands, all kinds of emotions overcoming you. "What is wrong with you?!" You grab his mask, shoving it in his hands. Your heart is pounding as he stumbles, falling over from the roughness of the way you're tackling him. 

He grunts and holds your waist with one hand as he pushes your hands away to pull his mask back on. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" he mutters as he attempts to zip it up. You mumble curses and take over, adjust the fabric as you sit back on your heels and simply watch him. 

Dave.

Kick-Ass is Dave?! 

You swat his arm repeatedly. "You fucker!!"

"O-ow!" Dave winces as he shields himself from the blows. 

You continue to hit him, your mind unable to process anything anymore— "I can't believe you hide this from me! And that you kissed me?! You fucking perv!" you shout, with no real bite behind your words as your palm rests on his toned chest. 

Fuck. 

Dave sits back as your assaults calm down and groans. "I'm sorry."

"Bullshit," you clap back, staring at him. "You aren't sorry. You did that on purpose because I–" you cover your mouth with your hands, "I admitted I have a crush on you."

Dave grins widely, some confidence coming back as he nods his head.

"Kill me," you mutter. 

"Kiss you?" he asks. He's looking at you with his striking blue eyes, chewing on his lower lip. You look at him in his costume and now it all makes sense. Duh, Dave Lizewski is Kick-Ass! It's all in the eyes. How could you have missed them? 

"What?" 

"You just asked me to kiss you."

You pause for a moment but then you break out into laughter.

"I didn't," you say.

Dave leans away, hurt written across his features. "But you want it," he tries. "Y/n I have loved you for years. How could you not know?"

He looks completely serious. You know him. You've known him for years. You know that look behind his eyes. Your expression softens and warmth fills your chest. 

"You can't go around kissing girls without their permission," you whisper, inching forward as your eyes drift to his lip. Dave's lips. 

Dave leans in, almost entranced as he senses your movements. You've always been connected but this feels like a magnetic pull. "I don't plan on kissing any other girls, just you," he says honestly, not even trying to make a move, "but I should have asked you. I'm sorry. I should have—"

It's your turn to pull him in, crashing your lips against his. It isn't smart, kissing Kick-Ass out in the open like this but neither you nor Dave seem to care. Your lips move rhythmically with his and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. 

Dave's gloved hands tighten around your hips, pulling you in even closer as he loses himself in you. You feel so at ease as he deepens the kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath. Dave's looking at you from behind his mask, his chest heaving. 

You lean in and hug him, holding him close. "Why didn't you tell me you liked me?" you whisper.

Dave wraps his arms around your middle. "Why didn't you?" he counters. 

You grin against his shoulder. "Smartass."

Once you pull away again, Dave stands and holds out his hand. He pulls you up and looks around. Thankfully no one is around. "Let me walk you home?"

You nod and nudge his shoulder as you walk. He laughs and pushes you away a little—just like always. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and you itch to hold his hand. Instead, you ask softly. 

"You're careful, right?" You look at his costume.

It's barely audible but Dave hears you anyways. He nods. 

"Yeah. I always am."

Your hand grazes his and your chest fills with warmth. 

"Good. Can't lose you when I've only just gotten you."

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱

daughter of aphrodite! reader x luke castellan 💘

IN WHICH.. luke would carry the world on his shoulders for the approval of your mother

warning! this fic contains- like two cuss words // feminine reader // one slight reference to sex (lukes a virgin lolol) // not proofread (yet)

🎧- bewitched by laufey

3.3k

You had always been the favorite of your mother, Aphrodite. With the way she frequently delivered extravagant gifts, ranging from beauty supplies to carefully crafted swords, it was clear you were granted special treatment from the typically vain goddess. Others grew envious of your glorious relationship, watching from afar as you had yet another conversation with her. 

The unfortunate truth was that you worked your ass off to receive a fraction of affection from your mother. Waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready, biting your tongue as others gossiped about you, and training hours per day were just some of the cruel circumstances you had to endure in order to keep up your facade. Everything about you had to be seemingly perfect, which is hard to maintain when living in such harsh conditions.

Your ethereal beauty and charming personality gained the attention of many, making Aphrodite proud. However, no matter how many demigods asked you out, they were all politely declined. This wasn’t a personal choice, but instead one forcefully implemented by your mom. 

Every camper knew of the strange rule the goddess had set for you. Not one soul would be allowed to take you on a date without her approval. Unfortunately for you, she was extremely strict and harsh when choosing. It was odd that the ruler of love would prevent her dearest kin from experiencing the joys of having a partner, but the gods did little with rationality.

During your weekly prayer one evening, you found yourself pondering why Aphrodite seemed to reject all suitors. Seeking answers, you broached the subject with her. In response, Aphrodite professed a desire for nothing but the best for you, her words punctuated by the subtle shifts in her mood. Intrigued by her cryptic response, you couldn't help but remain curious, uncertain whether she spoke the truth or spun another detailed tale.

Among the crowd of diligent campers who showered you with attention, there remained one who truly stood out. Luke Castellan, the offspring of Hermes, had harbored a profound admiration for you from the moment of your arrival. While others were fixated solely on your captivating exterior, he found himself drawn to the depths of your enchanting personality. Your passionate expression for the things that ignited your soul—be it delving into the mysteries of ancient artworks or nurturing the vibrant flower fields—held him spellbound.

One day, the immense ache in his lovelorn heart became too agonizing to bear. As the sun awoke from its slumber and you elegantly devoured a ripe pear, he asked you to follow him into the lush forest. Despite the slightly sketchy request, you obliged, trusting Luke with your whole heart.

"I hate to sound blunt, but why are we here again?" You queried, batting away pesky flies and dodging branches that lunged out intrusively.

"I'm determined to take you out," he proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt creep in as you cringed with uncertainty.

“Luke, you know how my mom feels-“ 

“Yeah, I know how your mom feels. But how do you feel?” He blurted, his coffee brown eyes staring deep into yours, and for a moment, you saw the deepest part of him that was hidden from the rest of the world. 

“What’d mean?” You questioned him, trying to wrap your head around his statement, like it was a foreign concept for someone to ask how you perceived the situation.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Luke whispered.

“I’d love to, but she-“ His response was accompanied by a light shake of his head, his voice gaining intensity as he delivered his next sentence with austerity.

“Tell me the truth. If Aphrodite wasn’t your mother, would you date me?”

Silence flooded the woods; it seemed even the birds stopped singing to hear your much-awaited response. 

“Yes, I would.” You said it honestly, twiddling with your hands out of nervousness for your mother’s reaction.

“Okay then. I have a plan; don’t worry.” Luke interlocked your fingers, gently dragging you back to the pavilion with a grin plastered across his face.

As the day unfolded in its familiar rhythm, there was an intriguing twist: you found yourself stealing glances at Luke more frequently, your fondness for him blossoming rapidly. Anticipation brewed as you prayed for the success of whatever scheme Luke had concocted. Yet, the nagging suspicion of your mom’s disapproval gnawed at you, even if Luke was nicknamed the camp's "golden boy."

As dusk approached and dinner was served, the absence of Luke grasped your attention. The atmosphere lacked the presence of a couple other different Hermes offspring, too; the usual crowd at the wooden picnic tables was now missing. Brushing aside budding concerns, you settled beside your siblings, concealing any anxieties that threatened your composure.

You would have thought Hades took a visit to Cabin 11 with the way everyone was scrambling around. Dozens of clothes littered the floor, the room looking as if a freight train plowed through. Luke was in the center of the mess, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully examined his outfit options.

“A suit is definitely too much, right? I mean, I think it would be weird to go completely dressed out.” He started, with Chris standing next to him as they both pondered.

“Yeah, yeah. Ditch the suit.” His friend replied, tossing the crisp attire back into the closet. 

“So do I wear the camp shirt or something else?” Luke interrogated the rest of the children.

“Camp shirt.” Chris said, but another older female camper chimed in.

“Obviously not. It’s a disgusting neon orange.” She declared, rolling her eyes.

“I think it makes him look devoted to the camp.” Chris defended.

“Oh please, it washes him out. Try this navy blue top.” The Hermes girl tossed a crinkled polo at him, turning away as he slipped the shirt on.

Luke looked in the mirror, pleased with his choice. All of his peers stared at him in judgment before coming to the conclusion that the deep blue suited him.

“Told you. Now hurry up. You can’t miss dinner.” She uttered, shooing him out of the packed cabin. 

All eyes were focused on him as he walked to supper since he was out of the appropriate attire. He snagged his dinner, rushing to sit next to you. 

“Cute shirt. A little late though; dinner's almost over.” You complimented, and the rest of your fashion-inclined siblings nodded in agreement. Luke felt his cheeks flush from your words and because of the overwhelming stares provided by campers.

“Thank you. I’m not really hungry anyway." He responded, which wasn’t a complete lie. His stomach was doing cartwheels as he counted down the minutes until the burnt offerings. As soon as the sound echoed through the air, he practically sprinted to be the first.

He slid almost all his food into the metal tin can (which he would definitely miss later that night when he went to bed hungry) and, with shaky hands, lit the dinner. The aroma of multiple dishes mixed into one and then set on fire was putrid, but luckily for Luke, that’s just what he needed to catch the attention of Aphrodite.

As she heard the pleads of the boy, who was begging for a conversation, and smelled the smoke, it was enough to send her spiraling down onto Earth. She was gorgeous—ten times prettier than any image Luke could have pictured in his head.

“I'm Luke Castellan.” He stumbled out nervously, but recollected and gathered his thoughts.

“I want to date your daughter, Y/N.” He declared, noticing the way the goddess looked away with anger. 

“And before you say anything,” he continued, “I swear I have the best intentions.” 

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes, inspecting him.

“I don’t know. Many boys just like you have claimed the same.” She spoke to him with such clarity.

“It’s different; I can promise you that. I’m a good kid.” He pleaded, growing desperate as he swallowed.

“You aren’t sounding much different than the children before you.” She replied, and Luke could tell she was about to walk away, so he did what he thought was best and blurted out what came to mind.

“I’ve never smoked, I pray to the gods every night, and to be honest, I rarely step foot out of camp. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, and I’m the best swordsman in camp—at least that’s what everyone says. I’m still a virgin, and I’ve never even glanced at another girl in any romantic way because the only one I have eyes for is your daughter. Please, ma’am.”

Aphrodite's eyebrows lifted, and her mouth agape at his sudden speil. She had to admit that it was quite impressive.

“Hm, I suppose you have made a compelling argument. I’ll let you take her out on one date, but only if it goes well will you be allowed to see her again. And she must approve of you.”

Luke smiled at her, letting out heavy breaths he didn't even know he was holding on to. 

“Thank you so much. I can assure you, you won’t regret it.” He thanked the goddess, who just shrugged and left him in the dark forest. Too thrilled to care, he joyfully jogged back to the cabins, where his bunkmates patiently waited.

He shoved his way inside, panting, excitement bubbling within him. The air in the cabin seemed to crackle with anticipation as everyone turned their attention toward him, their eyes lit with curiosity, waiting for him to spill the details of what had transpired.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, unable to contain the joy that surged through him. Instantly, the air was filled with the sound of cheers and joyous squeals, his friends erupting into a wave of celebratory exclamations.

“Well, sorta. As long as the first date goes okay,” Luke added, his enthusiasm slightly dampening as he lowered his head, a hint of uncertainty tainting the original exhilaration of his announcement. The cabin fell into a sudden hush, a sense of disappointment crushing the once great news. 

“Then we better get to planning,” Chris interjected, lighting a spark of hope. Everyone returned to their primary delirium, huddling together to craft the picture perfect night.

Campers threw out ideas for the date on the spot, ranging from the location to his preferred mannerisms. His sisters used their experiences with being a women to instruct him on how to act, telling him what was considered acceptable and what to avoid. The rest of his siblings and friends scoped out the land, deciding on the perfect site.

After enduring the lengthy schooling, Luke stole a fleeting moment away from his lesson, his heart set on sharing the newfound momentous revelation with you. The bonfire raged on, campers swarming around it like hungry sharks. Old friendships were being rekindled, and new bonds were forming. Admits the social circle stood you, who laughed as you spoke to the Apollo kids.

With a grin that illuminated his features, Luke observed you from a distance, captivated by the infectious positivity that radiated from you. As you strayed away from the chaotic crowd, your eyes met his. His feet propelled him forward, drawing him towards you. 

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice filled with genuine excitement as he approached.

“Hey! Guess what?” Luke's words tumbled out in a rush, his eagerness present as he awaited your reaction.

“What’s up?” you inquired, intrigued by his anxious body language.

“Your mom said yes,” Luke revealed, his expression a mix of anticipation and restrained enthusiasm.

“What?” you gasped, disbelief coloring your features before giving way to unbridled joy.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, the thrill evident in his voice.

Excitement flourished within you, causing you to leap into his arms, angelic laughter filling the atmosphere as he lifted you up and spun you around. The cutesy scene hooked the attention of others, whispers beginning to travel.

Like a raging wildfire, Luke's announcement spread swiftly through the crowd, resonating with everyone within earshot. Within minutes, the joyous information spread through the gathering. Some were jealous, spreading rumors the moment they heard them, and some were just happy for the two.

Neither of you cared about the whispers and gossiping of those around you, their chatter fading into the background as you were enveloped in his warm embrace. The world seemed to melt away as he gently set you down, his touch lingering on your skin.

As you looked up into his eyes, time seemed to stand still, and the intensity of your love was reflected in the depths of his gaze. With each beat of your heart, you felt a surge of affection wash over you, your gaze softening as you looked upon him with adoration. There, in the depths of his eyes, you found comfort, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.

"7 o'clock okay for tomorrow?" Luke's voice broke through the haze, jolting you back to the present moment. His words sent a tingle of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Mhm," you murmured in response, your mind still lingering on the warmth of his touch, until a daughter of Demeter called you over, disrupting the spell cast by Luke. As you tore yourself away, a shiver raced down your spine, the absence of his soothing hands leaving you feeling strangely hollow.

In the darkness of the night, neither of you seemed able to sleep with the thought of each other prominent in your minds. Remembering all of the special moments you shared, even before today, summoned a mixture of emotions. If this date didn’t go according to plan, the memories would be permanently lost, drowned out by new experiences.

Eventually, Hypnos blessed you with a night’s rest, and before you knew it, it was 6 p.m., an hour before the long-awaited gathering with Luke. Your siblings were currently helping you get ready in the vast space that was the Aphrodite cabin.

"Do you know where he's taking you?" Urged your closest sister, her fingers deftly working through your hair as she leaned in.

Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you met her gaze in the mirror, uncertainty dancing in your eyes. "No, not really," you admitted with a sigh, feeling a knot of anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach as you nervously tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"Oh gods!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination as she dropped the task of defining your hair, her attention now fully focused on the impending dilemma. With a sense of urgency, she hurriedly crossed the room to her bustling closet, the sound of fabric rustling filling the air as she searched for the perfect outfit.

You watched her with amusement, as she rummaged through her collection.

With a triumphant exclamation, she emerged from the depths of her closet, a victorious smile gracing her lips as she presented you with a selection of carefully curated outfits. "I'm sure we can find something that'll work," she declared with confidence, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to lay out the options before you.

She presented you with a breathtaking spring dress, its delicate fabric decorated with teensy flowers. You ran your fingers over the dainty material, embracing its beauty.

"It's perfect," you breathed in awe, your voice barely above a whisper, as you marveled at the garment.

"I know, right!" she exclaimed, her excitement infectious as she twirled around in delight. "This is so exciting! Your first date!" she continued, her words bubbling with enthusiasm as she continued to fuss over your appearance.

You attempted to summon a smile, but despite your best efforts, the flicker of unease in your eyes did not go unnoticed by your sister.  She gently squeezed your hand, a silent gesture of support and reassurance.

"What's wrong?" She questioned you softly, her hands pausing in their task of arranging your hair as she turned to look at you through the expansive vanity mirror.

"It's nothing, really. Just... anxious, I guess," you replied, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to find the right words to express the complexity of your thoughts.

"Hey, it'll go great. And if not, there's a long line of suitors out there waiting for you," she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and understanding, "so I'm sure Mom would approve of at least one of them."

"But I don't want it to be them," you confessed, your voice shaky as you admitted your true feelings. "I want it to be Luke."

She slightly frowned, grabbing your head and leaning into you. You shut your eyes to block the tears, discovering a place of love in her arms. A sudden knock on the wood door interrupted the warmth of silence.

She hopped up with eager anticipation, practically skipping to the door to greet Luke. As she opened it, you seized the opportunity to slip into the closet and change into the dress she had requested.

Luke stood on the doorstep, his hands fidgeting with a bouquet of ethereal flowers, their petals shimmering in the sunlight. A hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes as he glanced around, searching for you.

"Uh, is Y/N here?" he asked, his voice laced with nervousness as he scratched the back of his head.

"Yes, she is," your friend replied, her tone firm, her gaze locking onto Luke's with determination. "But before you go any further, I need to warn you. You must take excellent care of her, no matter what. Because if you don't, I'll come find you personally."

“I promise.” He stuck out his pinky, interlocking it with hers to signify an agreement he would uphold. Stepping outside the cramped enclosure, you checked your reflection and headed towards the door. 

"Hi!" you exclaimed, your voice ringing out into the air, breaking through the awkward tension that had settled between the two of them. Luke's shoulders visibly relaxed as he turned to face you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips upon noticing your presence.

"Hey." He whispered softly, capturing in the sight of you standing before him, your captivating looks leaving him momentarily speechless. You smiled, threading your arm between his and escaping the cabin. 

"I brought you these." Luke stated, his voice tinged with admiration as he handed you the colorful floral arrangement. You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, the fragrance of the flowers filling the air as you gently wafted them in your hand.

"Thank you," you replied sincerely, touched by his thoughtful gesture, "they're beautiful."

Lost in conversation, you continued hiking together, the winding path leading you deeper into the heart of the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke had a destination in mind, his steps purposeful as he guided you along the trail . The scenery around you shifted, the dense foliage giving way to a small deserted landscape.

Atop the grassy bank, a thick picnic blanket lay spread out, its vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the lush greenery that surrounded it. An assortment of fruits and treats adorned the blanket, ranging from juicy strawberries to decadent chocolates.

As you settled onto the blanket, the soft fabric cushioning your every movement, you couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that unfolded before you. Stretching out into the distance was the icy blue lake, its surface shimmering in the golden light of the sun, which peeked over the horizon as if to witness the magic of the moment.

As the minutes flew by, the loud croaking of cicadas immersed and the sky gradually transformed into a canvas of twinkling stars.

Wrapped in Luke's arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the worries and uncertainties of the day melting away.

In that moment, as you lay together under the vast starlit sky, you felt a profound connection to Luke. A realization that filled you with a sense of joy and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Whether your mom approved of your relationship or not (spoiler alert: she did), it didn't matter. What mattered was that you were with Luke, and in his arms, protected from the surrounding cruel world.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

🐰 William Afton Trying to Make You Forgive Him - Drabble

【 pro/com/dark ship & fic DNI】+ Notes: Apply any Afton version you can imagine. Oh God, I have so many drafts (unfinished) about this purple man and I'm so confused about which one to post first. aughhh Credit art: waackery

You’ve been ignoring him for days. Whatever he did (or didn’t do), you made it very clear you weren’t in the mood to talk. William, at first, tried to brush it off with his usual arrogance— "Oh, so we're givin' the silent treatment now? Cute."—but now? It’s driving him insane.

So here you are, lying on your bed, scrolling through whatever you can just to avoid thinking about him. And then—

There’s a faint shuffling noise.

You ignore it.

Then… a soft, almost suspiciously playful voice pipes up from the other side of your bed.

“…Hey, bun. You still mad?”

You freeze. That wasn’t William’s usual voice. It was… higher-pitched. Unnaturally chipper. And then, very slowly—

A pair of big, floppy yellow ears peek over the edge of your bed. Followed by—

Springbonnie. Or, well— a stuffed plush version. Held up directly in front of William’s face.

His hands carefully wiggle the plush like a damn puppet. "Ah, love, don’t be mad! Y'know Willy didn’t mean it—he’s just got a big ol’ dumb brain!"

You stare.

William is literally hiding behind a Springbonnie plush, slowly inching closer, his fingers gripping its little arms like a ridiculous sock puppet.

If you don’t react, he escalates.

The plush suddenly moves to pat your arm. "C'mon, sugar—won’tcha smile for me? Just a li’l one?"

And then, because he’s an absolute menace—he starts bouncing the plush closer.

Boop. Right against your forehead.

"Boop! Boop! Forgive Willy, pretty please?"

You break.

The smallest, tiniest laugh escapes you, and immediately—the plush drops. William pounces on that reaction like a starved man.

"A-ha! There it is—knew you couldn’t stay mad forever, love."

And before you can deny it, he’s already climbing onto the bed beside you, smug as hell.

"Y'know, if you ignored me any longer, I was this close to pullin’ out the full Springlock suit. You wouldn't stand a chance, sweetheart."

…You believe him.

[slavhew]

please draw something soft with little pq dirk and alpha dave or the silly pq older one iregrhgh ur art makes me so so sad abt them in the best way ever plsplspls

HI ANON. oh my god sorry for keeping you waiting this long. i wanted to do something nice for you but truth be told... i struggle with drawing people hugging & similar stuff. historically. but ur rq is WAY overdue so!! i did my best.

i only hope this reaches you alrighht... i wish it notified anons when their asks are answered ahgfdjksgg ;w; thank u so much for this and again so sorry it took this long...

[mariasont]

theory and practice

a teasing conversation ensues when you boldly suggest becoming rossi’s fourth wife.

pairing: dave rossi x reader warnings: fem!reader, flirty reader, flirty rossi, power dynamics perhaps? rossi thinking of moral complexities of a relationship etc etc, probably an age gap? it's not explicitly mentioned but home boy is old as dirt prompt: here wc: 0.6k

Rossi tries to focus on the article in front of him, but he can practically feel your eyes burning holes in his cheek. He almost snorts. You’re not even subtle about it. He wonders idly, if you’ve blinked yet.

“You know, if you stare any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself, bella. What exactly do you need from me?”

You tip your floppy head back slightly, resting your chin on your hand and giving him a blatantly flirtatious once-over. “Tell me honestly. Do I have what it takes to be Mrs. Rossi number four, or should I keep working on it?”

At this point, Rossi doesn’t even blink. You’ve made it somewhat of your personal mission to charm him into an early grave ever since day one at the BAU. Your methods are disarmingly cunning, subtle enough to pass unnoticed by less discerning observers, yet transparent to him in their seductive intent. 

There was that memorably orchestrated coffee delivery — leaning forward with an excessive grace, making sure his peripheral vision had an unobstructed view down your blouse. Or the occasion you casually suggested a shared hotel room on a stakeout, ostensibly to save departmental funds.

Honestly, your relentless pursuit of his accelerated cardiovascular decline would almost be flattering — if it weren’t so damn effective.

Rossi gives you a slow, contemplative look, barely masking the amusement tugging at his lips. “Well, I have to warn you it’s a notoriously rigorous screening process. Think multiple rounds of very thorough interviews, background checks, and extensive compatibility testing. You might want to clear your schedule.”

Adjusting your position to sit up straighter, your arms press your chest together, the angle leaving little to his imagination. Rossi’s eyes are thankfully hidden, but he knows you know what he’s looking at. 

“I’m fully committed, Rossi. Hit me with your best shot. I promise, I can handle it.”

Rossi snorts softly, folding his newspaper and setting it aside. The sports section can wait — something he rarely admits, but this is far more interesting.

He gives you his undivided attention, leaning back comfortably.

“Alright. First question. Exactly how many FBI dress-code violations do you intend to commit on a daily basis?”

“Well, how many does it take before you feel obligated to reprimand me personally? I’ll aim for one more than that.”

He exhales slowly. “Ambitious, aren’t we?”

“You have no idea. But feel free to find out.” Your grin widens as you trail a fingertip casually along the rim of your sunglasses. “I’m even more ambitious up close.”

He allows himself a momentary consideration of the tantalizing hypothetical you’ve so generously presented. He wonders how you’d truly respond if, just once, he abandoned his better judgment and actually called your bluff.

You’re lucky, really, that he’s a man who still maintains a stubborn adherence to decency. That years spent navigating the ethical complexities of this job have given him ample reason to value his own carefully upheld morals.

Without said deeply embedded moral compass, however, he’s rather certain neither one of you would emerge unscathed.

“As enticing as I find your enthusiasm, perhaps its best to keep your ambitions strictly theoretical. For now.”

Rossi barely has time to appreciate the fluid grace with which you rise from your lounge chair before you lean in close, eyes level with his own. His breath stills subtly as your lips touch his cheek. 

“Every great idea begins as just a theory,” you say. “Remember that.”

He watches with reluctant open approval as you walk back toward the house. Settling back into his chair, Rossi resigns himself to the knowledge that his professional and personal resolve will continue to be rigorously tested.

Perhaps retirement would have been a safer choice. Still, he allows himself a moment of indulgent appreciation as you disappear inside. After all, even the strongest moral fortitude deserves a brief lapse into harmless admiration now and again.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 5 extras

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

[latenightreadingpdf]

Hidden in Plain Sight (3) - Dave Lizewski

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 1 ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 2 ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: When Y/S/N saves Kick-Ass from a dangerous situation, he becomes obsessed with trying to uncover her true identity. Little does he know, Y/S/N is a girl from his school who secretly has a crush on him as well. As they patrol together, their worlds collide in ways neither expected, leading to a surprising revelation about who's really behind the mask.

Y/S/N - Your superhero name

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Y/N strolled through the neighborhood, her mind buzzing with ways to tease Dave. She was endlessly entertained by how adorably flustered he got under that mask—especially when she pushed the limits, gushing over him like he wasn’t the same guy beside her, trying desperately to stay composed. She knew he tried to be respectful, but she often caught him sneaking glances at her chest, and every time she called him out on it, he’d blush furiously under the mask.

Lost in her thoughts, she was pulled back to reality by a quiet cough from behind. Turning, she saw Kick-Ass himself standing there, adjusting his mask nervously.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to show up,” she teased.

“I–uh, sorry I’m late,” he replied, still slightly out of breath.

She smirked, nudging him lightly as they began walking. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I just wanted to tell you all about Dave. I finally talked to him yesterday, and it went so well! I asked him to tutor me in calc, and he said yes. Now we’re going to spend all this time together.” She glanced at him, watching his hands start to fidget as she kept going. “I’m just worried, you know? I’ll be trying to learn, but I don’t think I can focus when he’s around. God, he’s so hot. And those hands…” She trailed off dreamily. “I always wonder what they’d feel like on my—”

Suddenly, Kick-Ass stumbled over his own feet, nearly tripping into the street. Y/N pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud, but she couldn’t stop herself entirely.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “I know I’m rambling. What about you? Got anything spicy going on in your love life?”

Kick-Ass cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “Uh, yeah. It’s, um… good.”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you have to give me more than that! I’m basically pouring my heart out here, and I get ‘yeah, it’s good’? Spill!”

“Okay, okay, fine,” he relented, clearly trying to think of a way to answer without giving too much away. “There’s this girl, and she’s—”

CRASH.

Oh thank god, Dave thought.

A loud noise cut him off, followed by shouting around the corner. Instinctively, he snapped to attention. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, as the two of them took off, sprinting towards the sound to see how they could help.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day, both Dave and Y/N stepped up their game a bit. Dave put extra effort into picking a shirt that didn’t smell like his closet floor, even making sure his hair didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed. Meanwhile, Y/N chose a lower-cut shirt and wore that perfume she knew drove him crazy, adding just a hint more makeup for that extra polished look.

As calculus neared, Dave practically power-walked to the classroom, heart pounding, and took his seat, eyes glued to the door. When Y/N entered, she caught his gaze, offering a warm smile and a wave.

“Hey, Dave,” she greeted, walking up to his desk. “Are you still free to tutor me after school?”

“Of course!” he replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but she just smiled, and he watched as she headed to her seat.

For the rest of the day, Dave’s mind was nowhere near his classes. The only thing that seemed to register in his brain was the thought of his upcoming study session with Y/N.

When the final bell rang, Dave wasted no time heading to the library. Halfway there, his phone buzzed with a text:

Y/N: At the table near the back of the library :)

He found her easily, smiling as she waved him over. “Hey, Y/N. Are you ready to start?” he asked, taking the seat beside her.

“Yup! I was hoping we could go over the first unit,” she replied. “I think missing that might be why everything else isn’t making sense.”

“Sure, let’s start there,” he said, pulling out his textbook. He walked her through some basic concepts, then pulled out a sheet of paper to work through a few examples. As he began writing, Y/N scooted her chair closer to get a better view, leaning in, and he felt his mind go blank for a second.

“Uh, so, um,” he stuttered, nearly forgetting what he was supposed to be teaching.

With every example, Y/N seemed to get closer, her shoulder brushing his every so often, her perfume making it impossible for him to concentrate. By the end of the session, Dave was practically melting, trying to keep his focus.

“Thanks so much,” Y/N said as they stood up, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “You’re a great teacher, Dave.”

He barely managed to stammer out a reply, feeling like he’d floated to another dimension. As they walked toward the library doors, she mentioned she was planning to walk home.

Dave felt a surge of courage. “I could, um, walk you home if you want?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

The walk was relaxed, conversation flowing easily. They talked about comics, giving each other recommendations, Dave told stupid stories about Todd and Marty, Y/N talked about a party she went to, and just learned more about each other. Every minute of it felt more natural than anything he’d experienced, like the superhero masks weren’t necessary anymore.

When they finally reached her house, Y/N turned to him, eyes warm. “Thanks for walking me home, Dave. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nodded, practically grinning from ear to ear. “Definitely. See you.”

As he walked back to his own house, he couldn’t stop smiling, mind whirling with every little moment he’d just spent with her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Between superhero patrols and calculus tutoring, Y/N and Dave had been seeing a lot of each other lately. They texted all the time, and Dave had been noticing her texts popping up at any time of day, which made him grin even at the simplest “Hey, what’s up?”

Saturday afternoon brought him a new message:

Y/N: Dave, pleeease save me! I’m so boooored. :( Dave: I’m about to walk to Atomic Comics to meet Todd and Marty. Wanna hang out with us? Y/N: YES, THANK YOU. Dave: I’ll stop by your place on my way.

He set off for her place, nerves jangling. As she joined him on the walk to the store, he tried to keep his cool but couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “Just a heads-up: my friends are, uh… really weird.”

She laughed, nudging his arm. “They can’t be that weird. I bet they’re just like you—maybe a little shy.”

Dave only chuckled in response, inwardly wincing at how little she knew about Todd and Marty’s lack of social skills.

They slid into a booth across from Todd and Marty, who were already seated. As Dave introduced Y/N, both of his friends seemed frozen, eyes wide, staring at her like she was from another planet. Five silent, awkward seconds passed.

“Guys… Really?” Dave whispered, giving them each a nudge under the table. “Don’t act so… I don’t know… weird?”

That seemed to do the trick. Todd cleared his throat and muttered a barely audible “Hi,” while Marty attempted a smile and a wave.

Y/N just smiled back, unphased, and Dave jumped into conversation about a new Spider-Man x Wolverine crossover he’d been obsessed with lately. As he pulled the comic out from his bag, Y/N scooted closer to look, her shoulder pressing against his. Dave tried to keep his focus on the comic’s cover, but it was hard with her so close, leaning over to see. He felt his face flush and prayed that Todd and Marty wouldn’t say anything embarrassing.

From across the table, they exchanged looks, clearly unable to believe that Dave was sitting that close to Y/N.

Eventually, Dave got up to go to the bathroom, leaving Y/N with his friends. She looked across at them with a smile. “So, guys, I’ve gotta know—what are the best comics here? I’m kind of new to this whole thing.”

The question seemed to break through the last of Todd and Marty’s reservations. Todd’s eyes lit up, and he immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation of his favorite series, going so far as to pull up comic covers on his phone and explaining key plot points. Marty joined in, pointing out his personal favorites on a nearby rack.

Y/N listened, nodding along and laughing at their side tangents. It didn’t take long before she was laughing along with them, chiming in with questions and responding to their recommendations with genuine curiosity. Soon, Todd was leading her around the store, showing her the most underrated comics and detailing why certain storylines were, in his words, “the best character arcs of all time.”

By the time Dave came back, Y/N was chatting with them comfortably. “So, okay, this whole series is a must-read,” she was saying, holding up a copy of Saga that Todd had practically forced into her hands. “Where should I start?”

“Volume one!” Marty and Todd chorused. Todd gave her a detailed breakdown of how she could get up to speed in no time.

Dave sat down, unable to keep from smiling at the way she fit in with his friends. “Making converts?” he asked with a grin.

“Oh, totally,” Y/N said, scooting back beside him. “I’m basically a comic expert now.”

The four of them ended up lingering at the shop, laughing over various comics and obscure references, until the store started dimming its lights to close up. When they got up to leave, Dave offered to walk Y/N home.

They talked the whole way, chatting about the evening, laughing about Todd and Marty’s passion for comics, and revisiting her new reading list.

“Your friends are funny,” Y/N said as they stopped at her door, smiling.

He laughed. “Funny? That’s new. Usually, they’re terrible.”

She laughed too, eyes twinkling, and then, without warning, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dave.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his cheeks tingling where her lips had brushed his skin. “Uh—goodnight,” he managed weakly as she turned and slipped inside.

Walking home, his head was all fuzzy. As excited as he was about how close he and Y/N were getting, there was that nagging thought in the back of his mind—could he really get close to her without ever telling her he was Kick-Ass? It made him wonder if he could ever have a real chance with her if he kept hiding half his life.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

After school one day, Dave was hanging out at Atomic Comics, flipping through the latest issues with Todd and Marty, when he heard the bell above the door chime. He glanced up from his comic just in time to see Y/N practically sprinting into the store, her face lit up with excitement. She beelined straight toward him, holding up a crinkled piece of paper with a big red “92%” circled at the top.

“Dave!” she almost shouted, her grin so wide it looked like her face might split in two. “Look! 92! I got a 92 on my calculus test!” Before he knew what was happening, she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said, her words muffled but still bursting with enthusiasm.

Dave’s brain went into overdrive, his senses zeroing in on the warmth of her arms around him, her hair brushing against his cheek, and the soft, citrusy scent of her perfume. Somehow, he managed to wrap his arms around her, gently squeezing her back.

“I knew you could do it,” he murmured, grinning ear to ear.

When she finally pulled back, her hands still rested on his shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes gleaming with excitement. “We have to celebrate. You should come over tonight. We’ll watch a movie, and I’ll buy a ton of your favorite snacks. What do you say?”

Dave’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure she could hear it. “Uh… yeah, sure,” he stammered, doing his best to sound casual, though the idea of spending an evening alone with her made him feel anything but.

“Great!” she said, her smile widening even more—if that was possible. With a final wave, she turned and headed for the door, throwing a quick “Bye, guys!” over her shoulder to Todd and Marty.

The door closed, and the three of them watched her leave, stunned into silence. Todd was the first to break it. He nudged Dave with his elbow, eyes wide. “Dude,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. “This is it. Tonight’s the perfect night to tell her how you feel. You’ve gotta do it!”

Marty nodded enthusiastically, his expression a mix of excitement and impatience. “Seriously, man. She invited you over for a movie night. She wants to celebrate with you. You can’t just ignore that!”

Dave looked between his two friends, his excitement battling with nerves. “You think so?” he asked, even though he could barely contain his own excitement at the thought.

Todd clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this, Dave. Just be honest with her.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Dave thought he might actually pass out.

As soon as you opened the door, he had to fight to keep his mouth from hanging open—you were in the cutest pair of fluffy pajama pants and a tiny tank top that showed just a hint of midriff. It was unfair, honestly. Before he could even fully process it, you grabbed his arm, and with a warm smile, pulled him inside, leading him up the stairs and straight to your room.

Walking into your room felt like stepping into another world, one that was undeniably and entirely you. Posters lined the walls, your desk was organized in a way that was both chaotic and charming, and there were little knick-knacks on your shelves that seemed to tell a story all their own. It was exactly how he’d imagined it… Not that he imagined your room or anything like that. That would be weird, right? Totally weird. Totally not him. He definitely did not imagine your room all the time… though, looking around, it was kind of uncanny how close he’d gotten it.

"Go ahead and get comfortable! I’m just grabbing more candy from the kitchen," you said, heading out the door.

He nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed, still taking everything in. Then he noticed a plush bunny sitting at the top of your pillow. Grinning, he reached over and picked it up, giving it a little squeeze, admiring its big, floppy ears. He was caught red-handed when you came back, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw you laughing at him.

“Oh my god, you’re one of those people, huh?” he teased, holding the bunny up like a prized possession.

You put a hand on your hip, rolling your eyes playfully. “Yes, I am, and it’s cute, okay?”

He chuckled, flipping the bunny around in his hands. “What’s his name?”

You groaned, blushing. “Come on, Dave… do you really need to know?”

He put on a serious face, hugging the bunny dramatically. “Absolutely. His name is—”

You bit back a smile, rolling your eyes. “… it’s Mr. Floppy.”

He choked back a laugh. “Mr. Floppy? Well Mr. Floppy is my new best friend now.”

“Oh no, how will I ever survive,” you replied in a mockingly dramatic tone, unable to hide your grin. Within seconds, the two of you broke out in a fit of laughter, your voices mingling in a way that made your room feel like the safest, happiest place in the world.

Settling down, you handed him a bowl of candy and flopped onto the bed next to him, pulling up the movie. As it started, you shifted closer, so much so that Dave could feel the warmth radiating from you. By the time you were twenty minutes in, you were nestled against his chest, his arm resting around you almost instinctively. He didn’t dare move—this was the closest he’d ever been to you, and he could feel his heart racing, every nerve on edge. Every thirty seconds or so, he couldn’t help himself; he’d glance down at you, admiring the way the glow from the screen softened your features.

After a while, you must’ve felt him looking at you because you shifted, turning to meet his eyes. The two of you were so close that your breaths mingled, and the tension between you was thick enough to cut. In a quiet voice, you tilted your head and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Dave swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nothing, it’s just… you look really pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you offered a shy smile, thanking him softly as you continued to gaze into his eyes. The movie was entirely forgotten now.

“Y/N, I… uh, I really like you,” he stammered, finally gathering the courage to say what he’d been holding back. “You’re so smart, beautiful, and… way out of my league, but I can’t help it. I really want to be more than friends.”

For a moment, you simply looked at him, and his heart felt like it might stop entirely. “Say something… please,” he whispered, his voice laced with nervousness.

Finally, a smile spread across your face, and with a glance down at his lips, you leaned in, closing the gap with a gentle, sweet kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, “I like you too, Dave.”

A grin broke across his face, and he could hardly believe this was happening. “Can I… can I kiss you again?” he asked, breathless, as if he were asking permission for a once-in-a-lifetime privilege.

Laughing softly, you replied, “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

This time, he kissed you deeper, pouring every ounce of his feelings into it, savoring every second. The kiss grew more passionate, and his heart pounded in his chest, but when you finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but let out a soft, disappointed whine, not wanting the moment to end.

You bit your lip, an amused smile on your face. “I actually have something to confess, too,” you said, your voice softer now.

Sitting up straighter, he looked at you with wide eyes, a slight furrow in his brow. “What is it?”

You took a breath, meeting his gaze. “I know you’re Kick-Ass.”

For a moment, he froze, his mind scrambling. “W-What?” he spluttered, immediately trying to backtrack. “I—Kick-Ass? No, that’s—that’s not me! I’m, uh—”

You held up a hand to stop him, laughing softly. “And I know you know that I’m Y/S/N.”

His eyes widened even further, and he seemed completely thrown off. “But… you always talked about ‘Dave’ to me when we were out, you know, fighting crime together. I thought… I thought I had you fooled.”

You shrugged, grinning. “I just liked teasing you. It was… kind of adorable to see you get all flustered.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the realization dawning on him as his face flushed a deep red. He couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. The two of you settled back into the bed, and a grin spread across his face as a new thought occurred to him.

“Just think about it, though—we’d make the most amazing superhero couple ever,” he said, his voice bubbling with excitement at the idea. “Kick-Ass and Y/S/N, taking down bad guys together? We’d be unstoppable!”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow as you poked his chest. “Not so fast, Kick-Ass. Before we start planning our crime-fighting future, you’ve gotta take me on a proper date first.”

He grinned sheepishly, nodding as he took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Right. Totally. Consider it done.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ and that concludes this story! thank you all for reading <3 I’ll probably go back through this another time and edit it a bit. If anyone has any Kick-ass fic recs or ideas please send them my way pretty please :)))

[tea-potato-gt]

You know how every couple of years, there is a sudden booms in specific romance genres?

There used to be a lot of Cowboys and mobs boss romances.

In the 2000s we had Monster romances with Vampires and werewolves.

Right now it’s Fantasticy Romace: Dragons and Fae (but not the small fairies 🙄 which is BS and they are cowards).

When is it time for the giants and fairy romance boom??

(“Shot in the dark” & “The Moth and the Bear”🙏pls convert more authors and readers to my cause🙏 I’m manifesting!)

If you have a G/t fantasy romance story, NOW is the time to publish while it’s popular! (That includes me too.)

[fbfh]

Do you still write for Dave Lizewski? I loved what you've written for him so far!

FUCK yes I do. Listen there's a lot I could say about Dave, but one thing that is NEVER addressed is how deeply rooted and repressed his mommy issues are. I'm sorry, your mom dies in front of you and you're just... not affected by it??? bullshit!!!!!!! Dave CRAVES a soft gentle touch, a divine feminine aura. Even if you're not a girl, if you just take care of him gently and look at him with a soft fondness he will fold SO fast. and yes having a nice rack (while not necessary) will help with this a lot. and by a nice rack I mean literally just having anything on your chest. flat tits, huge tits, lopsided tits, fake tits, real tits, literally ANYTHING. even if your tits are practically nonexistent he WILL still be trying to grope and suck on them. and he WILL succeed. nothing in this world can stop this boy from drooling over you.

after a particularly long night full of stopping some muggers, making sure the town drunk doesn't fight anyone, and helping some college girls get home safe, he shows up at your place, a little bumped and bruised but not majorly injured. you greet him with this soft, understanding smile and bring him up to your bathroom. It's all clean and soapy and smells like you, and he immediately starts to relax. you help him take off his suit and he tries not to get hard from the feeling of your warm hands getting him out of his suit and exposing his skin to the cool air. you start inspecting him to see how bad he's hurt - because of all his nerve damage he doesn't always notice how bad his injuries are.

you smooth his hair and praise him, listen to him talk about his night patrolling the neighborhood. worry flashes across across your face as you see the scratches all over his face and arms.

"Oh, uh, Mrs. Landsberg's cat got stuck..." He trails off sheepishly while you smile and put disinfectant on his nicks and scrapes.

"Look at you, helping little old ladies and rescuing cats from trees." you coo playfully.

"Well, she got stuck in the attic crawl space, but..." he shrugs with another blush, feeling all proud and sheepish from your praise.

"Close enough."

you press a kiss to his nose.

"now all you need is a job at the daily planet."

Dave was so sore and tired after tonight that he felt like he'd need days to recover. but after 10 minutes with you, you already have him laughing and feeling like himself again. Dave doesn't know what he did to luck out and have you in his life, but he thinks about you all the time. If he's not physically with you (or texting you or calling you or snapping you or lurking on your social media accounts or reading through your old texts or looking through the folder of pictures and videos he has of you saved in his phone or-) he's thinking about you all the time. he even dreams about you every night. no matter how much time he spends with you, he always wants more. Dave is definitely in the sex isn't enough I need to crawl inside your skin club.

[euaphora]

hi sorry to ask but do you mind writing about more about Dave Lizewski (I think that’s how u spell it?)

✎ᝰ subby!needy!dave x reader

Before you two even dated, he would follow you at night from a distance and watch you through your window. If someone else saw it in any way they wanted, they’d think he was stalking you. Which wasn’t the case.

He would hurry up with any work needing done with the new weapons that were going to be used for the next mission and ran out the door just in time to see you get ready for bed. He had done this for months before you asked him to come over to do the project your teacher assigned you to do, leading on from there.

He hated that class but always seemed to be passing since he really had no one to talk with to get distracted with the work. Once he started talking to you more in that class, he would slip with his grades and even got into a small argument with his dad over him failing.

The morning after the argument with his dad, he felt so upset with everything, giving attitude towards everyone including his teachers which almost made him getting sent to detention—even though he was completely unfazed with the security guard taking him to the office after Dave insisted that he wasn’t going to do the work. Which that even got him more upset because his dad had to come in and have a conference meeting with the assistant principal. Around lunch time he sat across from you which made you ask him, “everything okay?”. He just shrugged his shoulders, which slight pissed you off. You went about your couple minutes left for lunch by eating you homemade pasta you have packed for the two of you—which he didn’t eat since he had been daydreaming on how he would get back at his teachers and father— you up from your small bento lunch kit bowl and see him staring down at a random stain on the table. You were so confused but mad that he didn’t even give an explanation.

He walks you to your next period after lunch was over but stayed quiet the entire time and just made small hums when you would ramble about your day.

He could never be mad at you but he would get quiet and just mumble little things to make sure you know he was listening. You fixated your for eyes up towards his hooded ones, “did you get enough sleep, baby?” you ask him while running your thumb across a small part of his forearm while the rest of your hand is wrapped around his left arm.

Walking towards his last period of the day, he gets pulled into an empty classroom and gets pinned to the wall, whatthefuck?

He sees you with your arms crossed and with a pouty look, making him smile a little. “What’s up with you?” He asks, trying to keep his act. Which only made you even more mad but you decided to take that to your advantage since apparently we are acting what we aren’t.

“I missed you . . so much in class, baby.” You say, voice getting softer with ever word as you slowly get on your knees. “Yeah?” He asked, looking down at you, getting the hint on what your going to do next. “Yeah, can I show you how much I love you?”

He just nods— pissing you off already with the ways he keeps trying to push his act even further— watching you pull his pants along with his briefs as you pull it out. He slightly groans as he watches you tease the tip then slipping his cock into your mouth. “Mmm— keep going, baby.”

Head game was so strong he felt his hips stutter while trying to shove more of him deep inside.

As soon as he says that, you pull him out your mouth— making him furrow his brows in confusion— looking down at your naked figure which just made him hard all over again as you watched his tip get a dark red shade and his cock bolt up again.

“W-why did you do that I thought-”

“What? You thought what, huh, that you were gonna be able to cum in my mouth with how filthy yours was when I asked if you were okay? No sweet boy, you don’t deserve anything. Especially after being so rude to me, you should feel bad for the way you acted towards me.”

You get off your knees and fix you makeup— all smudged from the amount of sucking you were doing which made everything come off— he watches you look at yourself in your small mirror while he’s leaned back against the teachers desk with his cock still out, giving it small strokes while he watches you.

“I never meant any of that, I was just…eing a dick and I’m sorry but please do something,” he says with those little whines he always makes at the end when you tease him, clearly referring to his little problem.

“Fine but we do this my way. Starting off with you on your knees this time.”

He must have heard you talking in some sort of secret morse code manner with the way his body was completely frozen, he watches you stand still— not moving an inch to prove to him you weren’t messing around— and slowly goes down to his knees while still making eye contact with you.

He automatically feels a hard sting across his right cheek and immediately holds it, looking up at you and furrows his brows. You just look down towards him and told your head. “This doesn’t even come close with the way you acted today.”

“Why did you have to slap-” then another one across his left cheek now,”you don’t seem to get what’s going on here david.”

He slightly widens his eyes at the name, “I messed up and I know that but don’t call me by my first name you know I hate when you do that.”

You kneel down to meet his eyes and wrap your hands around his tip as the pre-cum is being used as lube, “I’ll call you whatever I want and your just going to have to deal with it just like the way you acted the way you wanted to.”

He lets out a simple hum, approving of your previous mentions. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t mad mad at you from the start, he shouldn’t even be acting like that around you.

He quickly whines and start moving his upwards to create more friction. With your other clean hand you play with his curls in between your fingers and give him a warm smile before pulling harshly at his tip and harshly on his curls.

He doesn’t say anything this time but gives you a small smile before feeling your soft lips crash with his, following your lips once you pull away, “does that feel good, baby?”

“A-amazing but I’m almost close…” he whimpers out, breathe sounding heavy and pants coming out of him. Before you could tell him how good of a job he was doing you feel hot ropes of white liquid splatter all over your hands and thighs.

He slowly gets up and pulls out his hand, helping you by getting tissues off the teachers desk. “Im sorry for the way I acted, I had no right to put my anger out on you..even if I was just ignoring you, it still wasn’t right of me.”

You just give him a small nod and walk out.

[ticifics]

Paint Me Yours

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

Warnings: fluffy, language, veteran!reader/freshman!Dave(two years difference), suggestive, college au, first kiss, no use of y/n

A/N: I know that each uni has its own hazing, but here is what happened at mine - a paint bath to celebrate approval

My dear love @gingerteafairy, thank you very much for giving me this idea, I hope you like it <333

You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

It was the first day of university, and he was a little lost—okay, very lost, actually. The campus was huge, and there were so many people that the place looked like an anthill. That’s when you appeared, dazzling, and asked if he was one of the freshmen. Dave needed a second or two before he stammered out a yes, watching your smile widen before you started guiding him.

During the welcome party organized by the upperclassmen, Dave could barely take his eyes off you—off your pretty mouth. The way you smiled while answering other freshmen’s questions. At some point, your gaze landed on him—maybe you’d felt his eyes boring into you—and your lips curved into a smile. Dave looked around, unsure if that smile was actually meant for him, but then you laughed, saying goodbye to the people around you before walking toward him.

“Hi,” you greeted, that smile still wrapped around your lips. “Dave, right?”

He nodded, feeling his heart stumble, not trusting his own voice to respond. He barely noticed he’d been holding his breath when you bit your lip, and God, what wouldn’t he give to be the one to do that? They looked so soft and plump—he suspected they were sweet, too.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

Dave blinked, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of your words. “Uh… yeah, sure. Everything looks great.” He wanted to slap himself. Damn it, fighting criminals was fine, but talking to a pretty girl? Impossible.

You didn’t seem to mind his lack of tact, though. In fact, you looked amused. “I’m glad,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Was it too soon to reveal that he wouldn’t shut up when it came to something he liked? Probably, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “Depends. I can be exhausting sometimes.”

A laugh bubbled from your lips, and he knew he could start rambling if it meant hearing that laugh again. “That’s a little hard to believe.”

Dave stared at you, lips parted in surprise. No, that definitely wasn’t flirting. Absolutely not. Or was it?

Before he could respond, you quickly changed the subject. “You should grab one of the donuts before they’re gone, you know? You’ve barely moved from that corner since you got here.”

“You, uh… noticed me?”

You paused for a moment, as if only now realizing what you’d said. But the surprise on your face was quickly replaced with a relaxed expression.

“I kind of have to. It’s part of my job as an upperclassman, you know—guiding freshmen and all that. So, have you tried one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we need to fix that right now. Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the table where the donuts were. You handed him one with pink frosting and colorful sprinkles, your eyes shining with anticipation. “Try it.”

He raised his hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the donut. Maybe he blushed under the intensity of your gaze—just maybe. When he took a bite, he closed his eyes, letting out a hum of approval. The dough was soft, and the frosting was perfect.

Your smile widened, if that was even possible. “So?”

Dave opened his eyes, finding you leaning closer to him. He drank in your image—the way the light illuminated your eyes, the soft curve of your mouth, how painfully beautiful you were. He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

“I think it’s pretty girl—” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “Good! Pretty good. I think it’s pretty good.”

He didn’t dare look up. What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, why couldn’t he act like a normal person?

Hearing the soft sound of your laughter, he exhaled deeply, lifting his gaze hesitantly, only to find a playful smile dancing on your pretty mouth. The weight on his shoulders lifted slightly at your reaction. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t ruined everything just yet.

“Dave,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you tried to stifle your laughter, “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Almost reflexively, a sheepish smile curved his lips. “Sometimes.”

From that first encounter, Dave Lizewski knew he was screwed.

The weeks that followed were a blur. He kept himself busy trying to adapt to his new reality, but every time he crossed paths with you on campus, it was like being struck by lightning.

You always smiled at him, asking one question or another, which Dave took forever to answer because he was too distracted admiring you. He became especially distracted when you wore those spaghetti-strap tops that highlighted your bust. Marty once jokingly told him to wipe the drool off his face while he watched you from across the hallway.

Today had been surprisingly light. There were still a few hours until sunset, and classes had ended a few minutes ago. Dave was walking among the other students in his class, heading out of the building, when he noticed the murmurs around him. He pulled out one of his earbuds, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Did you hear? There's a stash of paint in the lockers," someone said, and it didn’t take long for the other person to reply with a smirk, “I think today’s the day. I mean, it’s been almost a month since classes started.”

But it wasn’t until Dave reached the entrance of the building that he realized what was about to happen. The upperclassmen were gathered, and there was a dizzying amount of tempera paint in sight.

However, that wasn’t what caught his attention. You were there, radiant as always, but today you looked like you were ready to give him a heart attack. The only things covering your body were shorts and a thin top. He swallowed hard as his eyes lingered on your legs, on how soft they looked. It wasn’t hard to imagine how it would feel to settle between them. The image popped into his mind as clear as the waters of a pristine lake. You riding him, your face clouded with pleasure, the sounds you would make. The intensity of the thought made him blush, and he quickly buried his indecent ideas before they caused trouble in his pants.

You, oblivious to his thoughts, continued organizing some of the paint. The memory of your own hazing was still fresh in your mind. It had been epic—there was no other word for it. You didn’t have to think twice before agreeing to do the same for the freshmen.

Hearing the commotion, your eyes lifted just in time to catch sight of Dave. A small smile curved your lips without your permission. That was the effect he had on you, one you were definitely fighting against. He was a freshman, probably two years younger than you, and you had never been with a younger guy before.

The very thought brought a feeling of unease.

But it would be a lie to say he hadn’t been occupying your thoughts more frequently. It was hard—impossible—not to be drawn to those eyes, as bright as sapphires, and those dark curls that constantly fell over his forehead. They were adorable. How many times had your fingers itched with the urge to push them back from his handsome face?

And it wasn’t as though you didn’t know you had some effect on him. It wasn’t arrogance—Dave just wasn’t very discreet. He always blushed and seemed to struggle to find the right words. It was genuinely cute.

Without thinking, you headed toward him.

Dave didn’t notice you approaching right away. He was too busy trying to act casual, which only made him look even more awkward, staring at the ground, his earbuds now hanging around his neck. But when he finally sensed your presence, his whole body tensed, as if the air around him had turned into static electricity.

“Hi, Dave.” Your voice was soft but carried something he couldn’t quite place—a warmth that made his stomach flip with nerves—and something else he didn’t want to name.

He looked up, and seeing you so close rendered him momentarily speechless. The late afternoon sun lit up your face, highlighting every detail—the curve of your lashes, the soft shape of your lips, the delicate line of your jaw. It was impossible not to be captivated.

“Hi,” he finally managed to mumble, his voice rougher than he would’ve liked.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked on his with a playful glint. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He tried to smile but ended up with something awkward instead. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I mean, you just showed up out of nowhere.”

“Did I?” You laughed, and the sound seemed to echo inside him. “Or maybe you were just distracted.” Your voice lowered slightly on the last word, almost as if you were teasing him. And it worked. Dave felt his face heat up instantly.

Without hurry, you took a step closer, invading his personal space. “Are you staying for the hazing?”

He blinked, surprised, his eyebrows rising. “Hazing? Uh… I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into something that looked like a challenge. “Oh, come on, are you really going to tell me you’re not joining? It’s nothing scary, I promise.” Your voice was persuasive, carrying something that made him want to say “yes” to anything you asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but something in the way you looked at him—like you were challenging him, but with a sweetness that made him want to impress you—made him nod. “Alright. What do I have to do?”

“First,” you started, pointing to the small group of freshmen gathered a little ahead, “leave your backpack over there with the others. You won’t need it right now.”

Dave followed your gaze and saw the other freshmen dropping their bags near a makeshift bench, some already with their arms and faces painted in bright colors. They were laughing, exchanging jokes, their energy light and full of the excitement of new beginnings. Dave sighed, adjusting the strap on his shoulder before finally moving to do the same. He placed his backpack down carefully, as if the act itself carried more significance than it seemed—a small gesture of belonging.

When he came back to you, he seemed more relaxed, but you couldn’t ignore his posture. It was hard not to notice—the way his shoulders stayed square, his arms defined even without him trying to show them off. He was fit, very fit, and you found the words a little harder to get out as you tried not to make it too obvious. Still, the idea of touching him, even under the innocent pretense of the prank, made your heart beat a little faster.

“You’re going to need to take off your jacket,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Dave hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, unzipping it slowly, the sound of the metal seeming louder than necessary in the silence between you. He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders with a natural ease that felt almost rehearsed, folding it carefully before setting it on a nearby bench. The white shirt underneath seemed simple at first glance, but now, with him more exposed, you noticed how perfectly it fit him—highlighting his chest and arms in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“Do I need to roll up the sleeves too?” he asked, already pulling one sleeve up to his elbow before you could respond.

You only managed to nod, pretending to be deeply focused on grabbing the paint. But it was impossible not to notice his movements—the firm way his fingers gripped the fabric, the casual way he folded each side, leaving his forearms exposed. And oh, those forearms. The muscles flexed slightly with each fold. Heat rose to your face, and you quickly lowered your eyes, forcing yourself to focus, clearing your throat.

“Green,” you blurted out suddenly, as if the words slipped out without thinking. He stopped, looking at you with a curious expression.

“What?”

“Green suits you,” you explained, gesturing toward the row of paints. Your voice came out firmer than you expected, but the truth was that having him so close was starting to mess with your ability to form complete sentences.

Dave raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Does it? Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It just does. I’d guess you belong in Slytherin.”

He frowned, feigning indignation. “Slytherin? Are you serious?”

You laughed, enjoying the playful tone in his voice. “Yes.”

“I’m definitely a Gryffindor, for your information,” he replied, crossing his arms, though the amused curve of his lips remained. “Lions are better than snakes.”

“Oh, I see.” You laughed again, grabbing the pot of green paint and carefully opening it. “But today, you’re going to be a Slytherin, sweetheart.”

He smiled, but you could see the faint flush creeping up his ears, something that made him look even more endearing. Would he mind if his cheeks were bitten? You blinked, forcing that thought away.

“Now stay still,” you said, dipping your fingers into the cool paint. “I’ll start with your arms.”

Dave obeyed, keeping still, but you could feel his full attention on you. Your fingers touched his skin, sliding carefully as you began drawing soft lines and delicate strokes along his forearm. The warm texture of his skin contrasted with the fresh paint, and you lost yourself for a moment in the simple act of tracing each curve.

He was quiet, but you could feel his breathing change—slightly heavier, as if he was aware of every touch. When you glanced up to check if he was okay, you realized he was looking too. Not at his arm, but at you.

His gaze was intense, his blue eyes fixed on your face for a few seconds before dropping, almost accidentally, to the neckline of your shirt. The movement was so quick that he blinked, shifting his focus back to his arm, but the blush rising to his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“I... uh, you’re pretty detail-oriented, huh?” he tried, his voice slightly lower than before.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your face too. “I like to do things properly. Now your forehead.”

He blinked, surprised. “My forehead?”

“It’s a prank, Dave,” you replied, laughing. “The arms are just the beginning. Come here.”

He tilted his head hesitantly, letting you get closer. Your fingers were covered in paint, and as you began to glide the tip along the contours of his forehead, you realized just how close you were—so close you could catch the subtle scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy.

The silence between you grew heavy, charged with something that felt electric. Each breath seemed synchronized, every move you made met with his gaze. When you finished the drawing, your fingers lingered, still lightly brushing against his skin. It was Dave who broke the silence, laughing softly.

“Now that you're officially painted, I think you're ready to be a proper freshman,” you joked, trying to ease the tension hanging between you.

You stepped back, tilting your head to evaluate your work. He already had some green marks scattered across his arms and forehead, but somehow, he still looked surprisingly... neat. That wouldn’t last long, of course.

“Time for a picture,” you said, raising your phone. “We need to capture this ‘tidy’ phase,” you explained, stifling a laugh. “Because soon, my friend, you’ll be unrecognizable.”

He chuckled, a bit shyly, and nodded. “Alright.”

You winked, adjusting the angle of your phone. He stood there with a small, reserved smile, proudly displaying the name of his course and the university's initials, but with an ease so natural that you didn’t need to ask for anything else. “Look here,” you directed, snapping the photo. “This one’s good. Now, give me a serious face or something.”

He attempted a more serious pose, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow, but the effect was ruined when he started laughing—soft and full of life.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” you teased, laughing along. “Alright, last one. Just smile this time.”

He complied, and this time his smile was brighter, more carefree—something so genuine you already knew it would be your favorite. “Done. Immortalized.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” he said, still smiling.

Before you could respond, one of the upperclassmen clapped loudly to grab everyone’s attention. “Alright, freshmen! Everyone, listen up!”

Dave turned toward the voice, and you used the moment to pocket your phone, staying close as the upperclassman explained what would happen next.

“Now that you’ve all been properly christened, it’s time for the fun part of initiation. Everyone is going to form a line, holding hands, and we’re going to walk from here to the main engineering building over there,” he pointed to a building about a 15-minute walk away, “leaving a trail of paint behind us. Along the way, we’re going to throw paint at you. A lot of paint. And just so you know: if any of you freshmen try to fight back, you’ll get an extra soaking. Got it?”

The freshmen murmured their agreement, some chuckling nervously. Beside you, Dave seemed amused, his easy smile firmly in place. That was when you realized your role was about to begin: as an upperclassman, your job wasn’t just to watch—it was to dive into the colorful chaos and make sure no one got out unscathed.

You turned to him, a playful glint in your eye. “You know, Dave, I think you should take your glasses off.”

He blinked, surprised. “Take my glasses off? Why?”

“Trust me,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “The paint will get everywhere, and you don’t want to ruin the lenses.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. Then, with a sigh, he slowly removed his glasses and handed them to you. “Fine. But if I trip over someone, it’s your fault.”

You laughed, holding the glasses carefully. “I’ll guide you, don’t worry. Can you still see anything?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost with genuine concern.

Dave tilted his head, that small smile appearing again. “I think I can... enough to know you’re still there.”

Your laugh was a bit nervous, but you covered it by glancing away. “Well, that’s enough.”

He laughed too, that light sound contagious. And before you could respond, the upperclassmen started moving, organizing the freshmen into a line. “Take good care of those,” he said, pointing to his glasses. “I’m trusting you.”

“You can trust me,” you replied, waving the glasses before stepping away.

Dave joined the line of freshmen, falling into place among them. You watched as he took the hands of two other students, looking both relaxed and a little eager. The upperclassmen began circling the group, armed with bottles and squirt guns filled with colorful paint.

“Alright, everyone!” one of the upperclassmen yelled, a mischievous grin on his face. “No mercy!”

You grabbed your improvised weapon—a bottle filled with vibrant blue paint—and walked alongside the freshmen, your eyes inevitably searching for him in the crowd. It wasn’t hard to find him; it was as if your eyes were drawn to him naturally. His smile was still there, as if he was genuinely enjoying the impending chaos.

Music started playing—something upbeat and lively from a portable speaker someone had brought. It was the perfect soundtrack for the moment, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the energetic rhythm set the tone.

As the group began to move, the upperclassmen launched their attack. Paint flew in every direction, splattering onto laughing freshmen who tried—and failed—to dodge the colorful assault. You aimed for Dave, squeezing your bottle and hitting him square on the shoulder. He stopped, pretending to look offended as he laughed.

“You did that on purpose!” he accused, pointing at you, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Of course I did!” you shot back, unable to stop laughing. “What, you thought I’d spare you?”

He shook his head, still grinning, and kept walking. But you weren’t done yet. At every opportunity, you squirted more paint at him, streaking blue and green across his arms and back. Other upperclassmen joined in, but you got the sense that he was far more aware of your attacks than anyone else’s.

The soundtrack kept playing as the group moved forward slowly, everyone fully immersed in the fun. Dave, now almost unrecognizable with the amount of paint covering his hair and clothes, still seemed to be having more fun than anyone else. But amidst the chaos of colors and laughter, something glimmered in his eyes—a kind of challenge. Before you could prepare yourself, he took two quick steps toward you, his paint-covered hand reaching straight for your arm.

"Dave!" you exclaimed, trying to step back, but it was already too late.

His fingers left a streak of green paint across the light fabric of your shirt, staining it mercilessly. You froze, staring at the mark with a skeptical expression, then at him, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his mischievous grin.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, disbelief dripping from your voice. "I loved this shirt."

"Oops," he replied, with the most insincere tone of regret you’d ever heard, raising his hands in a gesture that didn’t convince anyone. "But hey, I think green suits you, too."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "Are you serious, Dave?"

Before he could answer, a nearby upperclassman noticed what had happened and raised their voice, laughing. "Hey, everyone! Looks like we’ve got a bold one here!"

That was enough to grab the attention of all the other upperclassmen around. In seconds, it seemed like everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at Dave, who now seemed a little less confident—but surprisingly, no less amused.

"Retaliation, huh?" someone shouted, already starting to fill a bucket with a deadly mix of paints. "This won’t go unpunished!"

You took a step back, watching the scene unfold. Dave opened his mouth to protest but didn’t have time. The first splash of paint came from the left, hitting him square on the shoulder. Then, it was as if the heavens had opened, but instead of rain, there were buckets, bottles, and tubes of paint being thrown at him from every direction. Red, blue, yellow, pink, green, purple—a whirlwind of colors determined to turn him into a walking masterpiece.

You stood there with your arms crossed, watching as the upperclassmen laughed and shouted, the background music amplifying the chaos. Dave, however, seemed… completely unfazed. He raised his hands in surrender, but the grin was still there—a wide, bright smile as if he was having way too much fun.

When an entire bucket of blue paint was dumped straight over his head, he shook his hair, sending splatters everywhere—including onto you. "Seriously, Dave?!" you complained, but the laughter in your voice betrayed the fact that you weren’t really upset.

He wiped the excess paint dripping down his forehead and looked at you through the chaos. His smile was different now, a little softer but just as captivating as before. "Worth it," he said simply, as if the storm of paint had been a small price to pay.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that slipped through. "You’re impossible."

He shrugged, finally extending his hands to the sides, as if accepting defeat with dignity. "Maybe. But at least I’m not the only one covered in paint now."

The group, a walking rainbow, finally reached the other building, still laughing and making comments about their utterly destroyed—but hilarious—appearances. Clothes that had once been normal were now completely unrecognizable, and many people’s hair dripped paint like oversized brushes. You couldn’t help but laugh as you noticed how Dave seemed to lead the pack of the most wrecked ones, completely covered from head to toe.

"I look like an exploded paint can," someone commented, eliciting even more laughter from the group.

The upperclassmen began organizing everyone for a group photo. "Come on, everyone! I want to see everyone squeezed in here!" one of them shouted, waving a red paint tube like a microphone.

Dave laughed beside you, leaning in to whisper, "I think there’s still time to escape."

"You’re the last person who can say that," you shot back, glancing sideways at him. He was drenched in paint, but his eyes sparkled brighter than ever, and something about the way he smiled made your stomach flip in that uncomfortable—but addicting—way.

The freshmen started lining up, bumping into each other and trying to find space in the tight group. You ended up being pushed to the front, practically pressed against Dave as he positioned himself behind you. "Looks like this is going to be pretty snug," he remarked.

"That’s the spirit of teamwork," you replied, trying to maintain your composure, though you were very aware of how close he was.

"Teamwork, huh?" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

Just as the photographer positioned themselves, you felt movement right behind you, and before you could process it, Dave’s arm slid around your waist. It was a gentle touch, almost casual, but the way he did it—firm yet hesitant, as if waiting for your reaction—made your heart race.

You looked at him, surprised. “Dave…” you began, but your voice got lost amidst the chaos around you. He looked back at you, the smile still on his face, but now there was something different—an intensity in his eyes, a glimmer that seemed to say more than any words could.

“Just to make room for everyone,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. You weren’t sure if it was because of the noise or the way he seemed to look directly at you, ignoring the rest of the world entirely.

You tried to think of anything relevant to say, but your mind was a complete blur, the words tangling together as he stayed so close. The touch of his arm around your waist was a constant reminder, a warm pressure that sent shivers through your skin, even under the layer of paint covering you both.

Someone shouted, “Smile!” and you forced a grin for the camera, even though your thoughts were far from where they should be. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dave lean slightly forward, and his closeness was overwhelming. He smelled faintly of paint mixed with something uniquely him, and it was ridiculous that you were noticing that at such a moment.

When the photo was finally taken, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Dave, still with his arm around your waist, looked at you with a satisfied smile. “I think this will be a photo to remember,” he said, his voice low, and the way he looked at you almost made your knees buckle.

“I hope you’re right,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the weakness in your voice gave everything away.

As the photo group began to break apart, the laughter faded. A few freshmen tried unsuccessfully to scrub the paint out of their hair and clothes, while others seemed resigned to heading home in their messy state. You watched the scene unfold, the sound of footsteps and chatter echoing through the space. The energetic buzz of the event still lingered, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

Dave stood near you, a mix of tiredness and contentment on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, now stiff from the paint, and let out a soft laugh. “I think it’s going to take me two weeks in the shower to get all of this off.”

You laughed, reaching for your bag and unzipping it. “I think you’ll need more than that. But luckily, I came prepared.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as you pulled out a small packet of wet wipes. “It’s not going to fix this entire disaster,” you said, holding it up for him, “but it’ll help with the basics. Here.”

He looked at you, his smile widening. “Are you always this prepared, or is this just for me?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re full of jokes today, huh?”

He chuckled but didn’t take the wipes from your hand. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if challenging you. “So, are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there holding that?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing at the way he was looking at you—direct, playful, but with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Fine, but stay still and cooperate.”

He took a small step closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. Dave lowered his head slightly, making it easier for you to reach his face. Your hands were steady as you pulled out a wipe, but the same couldn’t be said for your heartbeat, which pounded wildly as you leaned in.

The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but soon you were carefully wiping away the streaks of paint from his forehead. His skin was warm under the wipe, and you could feel every tiny movement as he stayed still, his eyes fixed on you.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“No,” he replied, his tone rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

You tried to ignore the weight of his words, but it was impossible. Each second seemed to stretch the space between you. Your fingers, holding the wipe, brushed lightly against the side of his face, and he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself.

His eyes never left yours, and there was something about the vibrant blue that made you feel lost, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. “You’re all cleaned up now,” you murmured, but you didn’t step away.

“Am I?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he knew more than he was letting on. “Because I think there’s a spot here…” He pointed to his cheek, though it felt more like an excuse to keep you close.

You laughed softly but obliged, wiping the spot he indicated. “There. Happy?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when you finally found the courage to look at him again, the smile had disappeared, replaced by something deeper. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was filled with everything that wasn’t being said.

His hand rose for a moment, almost as if it were going to touch yours, but then stopped halfway, falling back to his side. “I am. Quite a bit.”

You felt the weight of his words, the raw honesty hanging in the air like a thick, tangible cloud. That I am seemed to hold more than he was willing to say out loud. His breath was heavy, not from the physical effort of the day, but from the tension that seemed to pulse between you like a rope about to snap.

Without thinking much, as if your fingers had a life of their own, you brought a hand to his face again. His hair was messy and still wet with paint, some strands stuck to his forehead, others falling to the side, blocking your view of his eyes. “Stay still,” you murmured, almost apologetically, as you brushed the wet strands back carefully.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the simple touch of your fingers was enough to disarm him. When he opened his eyes again, there was something different in them, something more intense, more vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, and before you could hesitate, you began to clean the paint still staining his jawline, your fingers gliding along the strong line of his jaw. The texture of his skin under the wet wipe, warm and slightly rough, made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t control.

“Do you have any idea how much you got dirty today?” you tried to say, but your voice came out weaker than you intended.

“Maybe,” he replied, and the hoarseness in his voice made you feel the impact in your chest, like a muffled thunder. “But you seemed to be having fun.”

You chuckled softly, trying to relieve the growing tension, but it was a useless effort. Your fingers slid from his jaw to near his lips, and you hesitated for a fraction of a second before gently passing the wipe over the corner of his lips.

His eyes followed every movement of yours, and when you looked back, his gaze seemed to beg for something he didn’t have the courage to ask for. His mouth was slightly open, and his breath brushed against your fingers so tangibly that you almost felt the heat on your own skin.

“All done,” you said, but your voice sounded different now, as if it carried everything you didn’t want to admit.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured, and the smile that played on his lips was as soft as it was dangerous.

“I am,” you replied, but your hand didn’t move. It was still there, dangerously close to his mouth, as if it were impossible to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he teased, his tone barely audible, and you knew he wasn’t talking about the paint anymore.

The silence that followed was deafening. The proximity between you was almost painful now, each inch filled with electricity that had your whole body on high alert. His eyes dropped for a moment to your mouth, and when they returned to yours, there was something there that made your heart beat so fast you thought he could hear it.

Your hand, still near his mouth, wavered for a second, and it was all he needed to take a step forward, closing the distance between you even more. His breath mixed with yours, and you knew, you knew you were on the edge of completely losing yourselves.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice a little firmer now, but still low enough for only you to hear. “And I’m tired of pretending I can.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with raw honesty that seemed to steal all the air around you. Your throat went dry, and you could feel the conflict building inside you, fighting against what already seemed inevitable.

He was younger. A freshman. And you knew you should have some sense here, some logic screaming for you to pull back, to remember the differences, the line that separated you two. But your hands were still on him, your fingers still brushing the paint-stained skin of his warm face, and you just couldn’t let go.

“Dave…” Your voice came out in a trembling whisper, carrying all that you were trying to hold back — the hesitation, the disbelief, and above all, the desire you had been trying to bury since the moment he looked at you that way, completely enchanted, for the first time.

He leaned in imperceptibly closer, his eyebrows furrowed, the intensity in his blue gaze fixed on you. “Tell me what’s holding you back,” he asked, almost pleading, but his tone was still soft, patient, as if he was trying to find his way to you.

You opened your mouth, but the words seemed to dissolve before you could even form a sentence. He waited, his proximity a temptation, and you felt as if you were being pulled toward him, against all the logic you thought you had.

“You’re…” you started, but hesitated, then took a deep breath. “You’re younger. A freshman. That…”

He laughed, low and hoarse, and shook his head slightly. "You think that matters to me?" He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with the intensity of his gaze. "I don’t care if you're older. Do you think when I look at you, that’s what I see? Because I don’t. I only see you. You, with that habit of looking at me like you’re trying to push me away, but you can’t."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He looked so vulnerable and so certain at the same time, and that made something inside you tremble.

"I don’t know if I can do this..." you murmured, the hesitation weighing heavily in each word.

"I know you can," he shot back, his voice firmer now, but still low, almost reverent. "Because if you didn’t want to, you would have already walked away. And you’re still here."

His words hit you like a punch, because he was right. You were still here. Your hands were still on him, and the closeness between you was so small that any movement could close it.

His fingers slowly moved until they lightly brushed your wrist. It was such a subtle touch, but it electrified everything around you, as if the world had stopped to observe that moment.

"Tell me you don’t want this," he said, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking any louder would be dangerous. "Tell me you don’t feel this too, and I’ll stop now."

But you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t pull your hands away, couldn’t ignore the way he looked at you, as if you were something he didn’t know he needed until the moment he saw you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Dave," you murmured, but your voice came out weak, with no conviction.

"I know exactly what I’m asking," he retorted, his eyes fixed on yours, as if each word was a promise. "I’m asking for you. And I know you’re trying to find a reason for this not to happen, but there isn’t one."

And in that moment, you knew he was right. That it didn’t matter the logic, or the differences, or the doubts you were trying to hold on to. He was here, and you wanted him. God, how you wanted him.

Your gaze fell to his lips, then rose back to his eyes. He was so close that you could feel his breath, and there was something so vulnerable in his expression, so open, so surrendered, that you simply couldn’t hold back.

Without thinking any further, you closed the distance between you, your hands moving to his face as your lips met his. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d been waiting for this since the moment he saw you. And maybe he had. Maybe you had too.

His lips were warm against yours, firm yet hesitant, as if he feared that it could all disappear in the blink of an eye. You felt his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressed to yours in a way that made the whole world disappear.

His touch was both reverent and desperate, as if he didn’t know if it was real, but was determined to imprint every detail in his memory. His hands slid over the curve of your back, stopping at the base of your waist, before moving up again, his fingers brushing the exposed skin that the light fabric of your blouse didn’t protect. It was electrifying, each touch, each movement, and you felt your heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in every cell of your body.

He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his eyes meeting yours as if searching for some kind of certainty. "Is this... real?" he murmured, his voice hoarse, cut off. He seemed lost, his blue eyes shining amidst the remnants of lilac and green paint on his face, as if you were the only thing he could see.

You laughed softly, breathless, but didn’t pull away an inch. "Yes," you answered, your voice soft but full of something you couldn’t hide anymore. "It’s real, Dave."

He let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief, and then his lips were on yours again, this time more certain, hungrier. His hands moved up to your shoulders, then slowly slid down your arms, his fingers tracing the path as if he wanted to memorize every detail, every curve, every inch of skin.

"You have no idea..." he murmured against your lips, his breath hot on your face. He stopped, just enough to find your eyes again. "How much I’ve dreamed of this. Of you."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, and something inside you broke and rebuilt itself all at once. "Dave..." you started, but he shook his head, interrupting.

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I need you to know. From the first day. From the moment you spoke to me, from the moment you smiled at me… I knew. I knew it was you.”

Your breath faltered, and you felt his hands rise again, this time stopping at the sides of your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw until they brushed the corner of your lips. He seemed so sure, so lost in you, and at the same time so fragile, as if this moment could be taken from him at any second.

“Dave…” you repeated, his name coming out as a whisper, almost a secret. You held his wrists, your fingers gently tightening against his skin. “You have no idea…”

“Tell me,” he insisted, his voice still hoarse, but laden with something so raw, so real, that it made the air around you feel heavier.

You swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “That I thought about it too. That I wanted this too. You. From the beginning.”

The words hit him like a blow, and he let out a short laugh, almost disbelieving, as he pressed his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he needed that instant to collect himself, then whispered, “You’re messing with me, right?”

“You think I’d do that now?” you replied, the teasing in your voice mixed with the weight of the truth.

He opened his eyes, and there was something almost glowing in them, something that made you lose yourself completely. “God, you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured before pulling you in again, the kiss more intense, more urgent this time.

His hands slid down your back, tracing the curve of your hips before stopping at their base, as if he needed to hold you there, as if he feared you might slip away. You pressed even closer to him, feeling his heat, the smell of paint mixed with his scent, and nothing had ever felt so right.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he gave a small smile, his lips still red from the kiss. “So… is this it?” he asked, his voice soft but playful. “Can I stop torturing myself now?”

You laughed, your fingers still tangled in his shirt, and shook your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I like seeing you like this,” you replied, the teasing clear, but your eyes still filled with everything you were feeling.

He tilted his head to the side, a crooked, utterly charming smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. “If that means I can kiss you again, then torture me as much as you want.”

You laughed, short, still breathless, and pushed lightly against his chest, but not enough to create any real distance. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, and it was impossible to ignore the streaks of paint he’d left there—a deep blue staining the pale pink of your blouse. His fingers had drawn an impromptu map on your skin and the fabric, and you knew that, even without a mirror, it was visible.

“Look at what you’ve done,” you commented, trying to sound indignant as you looked down at your blouse, but it was impossible not to smile. “My blouse is ruined.”

Dave laughed softly, his thumbs sliding along the curve of your waist before tracing their way back, as if he wanted to emphasize the mess. “You should’ve walked away while you could.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, because you would’ve let me go, right?”

He smiled wider now, his face still covered in paint, but somehow it only made him more irresistible. “Not for a second,” he confessed, with a tone that was both light and serious, like everything he did.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help the laugh, even as you tugged at the fabric of your blouse to examine the stains more closely. “And what do I do with this now? This is beyond saving, you know?”

Dave let out a dramatic sigh, pulling away just enough to look at you properly, but his hands remained firmly on your waist, as if he couldn’t help it. “Okay, I’ll admit it was a fashion crime,” he began, his eyes dropping to the stained fabric before rising back to your face. He looked so carefree and yet so intensely focused on you at the same time, it was almost unsettling. “But, look, you could… I don’t know, keep it as a keepsake.”

You raised an eyebrow again, his mischievous look signaling he had more to say. “A keepsake?”

“Yeah,” he continued, his smile growing. He raised one of his hands, covered in paint, and his thumb lightly brushed against the strap of your blouse, where a small paint stain was already printed. The touch was casual, but you felt a shiver run through you as if he had done it on purpose. “Every time you look at it, you’ll remember today. Me.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but it was impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh, sure, because I’d want a ruined blouse to remember you by,” you teased, but your voice came out quieter than expected.

He tilted his face a little closer, his fingers still idly playing with the strap of your blouse, as if he were testing his own limits. “You will,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but with that sweet tone that made your heart race. “Because I know you won’t forget me, with or without the blouse.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to hide the effect his words had on you, but it was useless. “You’re really confident for a guy who’s covered in paint,” you commented, pointing to his face.

Dave laughed again, tilting his head to the side as he ran one hand across his own face, spreading even more paint without realizing. “Oh, seriously?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And who was it that left me like this, huh?”

“You weren’t exactly trying to avoid it,” you replied, crossing your arms, but it was impossible to keep up the defensive posture with him so close, so absurdly adorable.

He took a step back, pretending to examine himself, before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, it’s pretty bad,” he admitted, pointing to the stains on his face, neck, and arms. But then he looked at you, a mischievous smile returning to his lips. “But, you know what? Totally worth it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile on your face betrayed any attempt to seem serious. “Really worth it?”

“Totally,” he said, giving that half-smile that seemed dangerous and irresistible at the same time. He took a step forward again, closing the distance, tilting his face until it was only inches from yours. “Wanna know why?”

You barely had time to respond before he continued, his voice low and heavy with something that made your breath falter. “Because now, I know what it’s like to kiss you.”

And with that, he smiled, so completely satisfied, so completely in love, that it was impossible to say anything. And you knew he was right: you’d never forget this. Or him.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: You convince your best friend to take you to Prom—only as friends, of course.

Prompt: friends to lovers - "don't bite your lip, bite mine."

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

"Damn Davey, you look so dapper," Todd jokes almost meanly as soon as he walks into the gym and sees his best friend. Poor Dave instantly tightens his grip on your hand and narrows his eyes. 

"Shut up," he hisses, his cheeks a bright pink.

Your hand is still in Dave's and when you hear Todd, you turn to glare at him. "Jealous you don't have a date, Haynes?" you quip and turn to adjust the little rose in Dave's suit pocket that matches the colors in the corsage on your wrist.

You smile up at him, which only makes his cheeks turn even pinker. 

"Whatever, Y/l/n," Todd adds, laughing, "At least I didn't need a pity date."

You hate the way Todd is with Dave sometimes—although Dave always insists it's banter, sometimes it just feels mean.

You glare at Todd and say with a hiss, "You're an ass," and then you're pulling Dave away and towards where the center of the gym where your classmates are dancing.

It's upbeat music for the moment and Dave is clumsy in his movement as you dance around him. His eyes are stuck on yours.

"Loosen up will you?"

"You look very pretty tonight."

You and Dave say at the same time, your eyes widening and you both laugh a little. You wrap your arm around Dave's shoulder, still dancing to the music.

"Thanks, Davey," you whisper, your eyes sparkling. "You look very handsome," you echo his compliment, meaning every word. He does look handsome—but then again, he always looks handsome. 

He hums and his cheeks turn pink again. The song turns from dancey to slow and you lock gazes. Dave's hands wander to your waist as you lean into the dance. This feels so natural, as if your bodies are made to be molded into one soul. Dave presses himself closer, his head near your hair as he inhales your scent.

You smell heavenly. 

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," you say, "I really didn't want to go alone."

"Of course," Dave answers instantly, his breath by your ear, "anything for you," he adds in a whisper. 

Your chest feels warm and you look up at him, your hands sliding down to lay on his chest. Your smile widens and something in the air shifts because your eyes downcast to his lips. They've never looked prettier. He senses your gaze and his heart leaps. Instinctively, his teeth sink into his bottom lip. 

"Don't bite your lip, Lizewski, bite mine," you tell him boldly, unable to keep the thought inside you any longer.

Dave's eyes widen but you sense him leaning in closer and he hums as a question. Your eyes flutter shut and almost automatically, your lips meet.

It's short and sweet, his warm hands moving up to your cup cheeks as his lips linger on yours until he suddenly remembers you're in the middle of the school gym, surrounded by all your classmates.

He pulls away. "Sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed, "I didn't mean to kiss you like that—in front of everyone. I- this really wasn't how I had planned this moment," he admits, his cheeks a flaming red now and your eyes soften. You can feel his nervousness. 

"You had a plan?" you tease.

Dave nods instantly. "A stupid plan."

"Why don't you let me judge that," you say with a grin and wrap your arms around him again, holding him closer as you kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, "because this is exactly how I planned this, baby."

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

haiii can u write smth where youthanasia dave takes readers virginity and makes a sextape about it? 😪 can you.... please....... i beg...

A/n: not the same but I have an axl req that this reminds me of

Warnings: smut, losing virginity, sextape, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You sat on the edge of his big bed, mattress dipping under your weight, while you watched Dave, your much older boyfriend, set up a camera on some sort of tripod.

His comforter was soft, not fluffy but soft, and definitely new. You looked over it, all black, and squeezed it in your hand. "Can you smile for the camera, love?" Dave asked, looking through the lens as he adjusted the angle.

You smiled, more at the name than the command, cheeks dusted a light shade of pink. "Is it ready yet?" You asked, shifting slightly. Since you started dating Dave a few months ago you knew he'd be the one to take your virginity, all your friends had lost theirs and you were just waiting for the right guy, Dave was definitely the right guy, you just never thought it would be in front of a camera.

Dave tilted the camera again before hitting a button and nodding. He stood up straighter and walked around the camera to you. He cupped your face in his big hands, making you look up at him; his eyes were dark and gently, yours were nervous. You weren't innocent by any means, Dave had definitely made sure of that, but you weren't experienced by any means, having only an idea of what was to come, what it would be like, and that didn't include the camera at all.

"It's just the one, right?" You asked. "And it stays here? The tape."

Dave nodded, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Don't worry about it, darling, I wouldn't let anyone else look at you like this, it's just for me." He assured, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "The album is almost done, which means we'll be going on tour, which means I'll be needing something to get off to while I'm away." You couldn't help but suck your lip between your teeth, thighs pressing together at the thought of him getting off to a video of you.

"You're wearing that outfit I got you, right?" He asked, brushing some of your hair out of your face. You nodded, eyes starting to trail down his body which was currently blocking you from the view of the camera. "Why don't you show the camera, huh?"

He moved out of the way, your gaze followed him but turned to the blinking red light staring at you, waiting for you to do something. You stood up, starting with your shirt, then you shoes and socks, finally your pants, until you were left in the dainty little white matching set Dave had gifted to you a week prior. This was important to you, he knew that, so when you finally felt ready he wanted to make it memorable to you.

Dave eyed you closely, no shame in his gaze and where it fell. "Grab your chest, push it together for the camera." He said, making vague hand gestures. Your gaze flickered to him but you did it, he went behind the thing to make sure it looked good in the dim lighting he'd set up in the bedroom. "Good... that's a good girl," he said, the term making you feel a pulse in a much deeper place than normal, "now turn around, bend over the bed, let me see you." He continued, setting up behind the camera a little to watch.

Again you did as he asked, moving slowly, hesitantly. You laid your top half over the mattress, showing the little fabric between your legs, over your cunt that was already getting wet at Dave's voice, his little names for you.

"Pull your panties to the side." Dave said, one hand on the camera while the other went to his jeans, palming himself through the thick layer. Your fingers tugged at your panties, giving him and the camera a good view of you. "Now push a finger in." You had to look back at him at that, over your shoulder with your brows knit together. "Come on, you know how to do it, gotta get yourself prepped for me, darling, it's not gonna be easy fit." He said with a chuckle, his eyes just warm enough to hide the terribly filthy thoughts of you, ideas of what he'd do to you later.

You swallowed thickly, fixing your panties to the side before getting your hand between your legs and sliding a finger in, drawing a heavier breath from you. He didn't have to tell you how to touch yourself, you knew that part, pumping a finger in and out before adding another, soft moans starting to leave you as your curled your fingers to hit that one spot.

Dave's groans slipped into the room, his hand now fully in his jeans after he unzipped his fly and stroking his hardened cock through his boxers. "Darling, do you want some help with that?" He asked, waiting for you to look at him again.

Your brows raised. "Help?" You asked, Dave had fingered you on a few occasions, his fingers were thick and calloused, skilled from years on guitar. Most importantly, he loved making you feel good, more than just making you cum he wanted you moaning his name the whole way through because of his work. "Yes... Yes, I want help, Davie." You said, hand slipping from your heat.

Dave smiled and pulled his hand off of himself, quickly coming over to help you. He lifted you onto his lap, hooking your legs over his so the camera could see exactly how perfect you were. He ran his fingers through your folds, using his free arm to wrap around your midsection and hold you tight to his chest, his head on your shoulder. "Look at my pretty girl, so needy for me." He mused, pushing two fingers into you, drawing a sharp gasp from you. "Tell the camera who's pussy this is." He ordered, lips frisking the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning over the side of your face.

"It-it's yours, Davie." You said, his fingers pumping slowly in and out of you making it harder to speak, breathing getting heavier.

He sucked his teeth and pulled his fingers from your pussy, giving it a harsh smack, right on your clit. Your eyes shot open at the sting, body jolting. "No, tell the camera who you're giving your virginity to." He repeated, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive nub. "I'll want to hear you say it over and over again when I'm on tour, love, so say it." His words got harsher, but he could see you clenching around nothing so he didn't bother dialing it back for you.

"Giving it to daddy..." You said softly. "Belongs to daddy." Dave smiled, pushing his fingers back into you and resuming his ministrations a little faster.

"That's a start, you can do better than that though, can't you?" He asked, kissing down your neck.

You gave a small nod but he wasn't looking for an answer, just proof. "My-my pussy belongs to daddy, my virginity is daddy's to take... only daddy gets to make me cum." Dave groaned at your words and you could feel him twitching against you.

"That's my girl." He praised, moving his fingers faster, scissoring them in and out of you before adding a third. "You know just what to say, don't you? You're sure it's me taking your innocence?" He teased, knowing you wouldn't lie to him about this.

"M'sure, daddy." You breathed, one hand clawing at his jeans, looking for something to ground you while he was curling his fingers just right. Your other hand went to his hair, tugging on it gently but the action still made him groan.

Your moans started getting higher, louder. Dave knew you were getting closer and he didn't stop you, making you cum while he was still fully clothed was candy to him, he could get you off looking so desperate and he could walk out of that room almost like nothing happened, so long as no one caught him fixing his fly. Luckily you were in his house and no one was walking in on you anytime soon, but the camera's red light blinked at you while your eyes fluttered, Dave's fingers not changing a thing as you neared your released.

Dave gave you a squeeze as you came, getting you back for sucking his fingers in so deep as your eyes rolled back into your head. His gaze flickered between you and the camera, smiling to himself and he knew he'd be smiling as he watched the video later.

Your body melted as you came, moans settling down as Dave slowed his movements, letting you ride out your high without wanting to overstimulate you just yet. "Now-now it's your turn." You said, moving off his lap but Dave stopped you, holding your hips down.

"I don't need a turn, darling, my focus is on you tonight." He assured, kissing your cheek. "Let me focus on you tonight, you need it more than I do." You nodded, knowing there was no room to argue with him. Not that this was a bad deal for you, all his attention, affection, him being completely devoted to you for a night. "Just get up for a second, would you?" He asked, pecking your shoulder as he let go of your hips.

You managed to get to your feet but your legs were wobbly so Dave sat you back down next to him, wrapping an arm around you. He lifted his hips and got his pants and boxers off, kicking them somewhere else in the room with the rest of your clothes, his shirt following shortly behind, now he was more naked than you but he didn't plan on taking anything more off of you, he liked you like this.

He got up from the bed, you watched his cock just dangling there. You'd seen it before, taken it in your mouth while drool dribbled past your lips, had your hand wrapped around it while he bucked his hips up, soft whines leaving him as he ached for release. Now though, it just hung there, precum already beading at the slit, his tip all red but it faded out before his ginger bush which you refused to let him shave because you loved shoving your face in it.

He pulled out the drawer from the nightstand on his side of the bed and pulled out a box of condoms, already opened from his last relationships which were just groupies. He ripped one from the strip and opened it, checking for any holes before he did. He tossed the wrapper away and slid the blue thing on. "Do you really need that?" You asked, still just staring at his cock.

He thought for a moment before crawling onto the bed. "Not really, as far as I know I'm clean, but I'd rather get tested before risking it on you." He said, kissing your shoulder first and then meeting your lips.

You returned the kiss with fever, leaning into his touch as his hand came to your cheek. Dave stayed behind you, moving you centered to the camera while his kisses moved down your neck. “It’s a hard choice, you know.” He said, his hands moving down your sides to your hips. “I could watch your face now, but I want to savor it forever.”

You looked back at him, lips parted with heavy breaths. Your breathing had mostly calmed down since his hands between your legs, but his lips on your skin made you hot. “Savor it? Why?” You asked, brow raised curiously.

Dave smiled at you, turning your head back so he could kiss you. “You’re only a virgin once, darling, wanna make the most of it.” He explained, lips never going more than an inch from yours. “It’s going to feel good and I’m going to see it all over your face.” You bit your lip, his fingers were a lot already, and he wasn’t small by any means. Dave gave your ass a gentle pat and gave you one last kiss. “Don’t worry about it for now, ok? Just look pretty.” He said, kissing your shoulder again.

There was a strange sound and you looked back to see him stroking his cock, lining himself up with you before you felt him on your hot cunt. He held you against his chest, the little fuzz rubbing on your back, in his later years he started shaving less as a whole, especially with your love for his body hair.

“Here,” he started, wrapping an arm around you again, “hold onto me, be more comfortable.” Your hands found his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze as he pushed his throbbing cock against you, the tip just adding pressure to your clenching hole.

His cock slid into you, the lube of the condom mixing with your slick. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to him as he went but you were already halfway to stupid as he stretched you out, effortlessly hitting every spot. Dave bit back groans at how tight you were, it didn’t help that your gummy walls were sucking him in deeper. His hips bucked, the last inch or two snapping into you.

Dave waited a moment for you to adjust to him, he waited for a sign but you were silent. When he finally turned y0ur head to make him look at you he saw the tears pricking your eyes and was quick to bring a hand to your face, swiping his thumb over your cheek. “Oh, my sweet girl, can’t take it?” He asked, voice not nearly as teasing as it could be.

You inhaled shakily, grip on his arm tightening. “Please, daddy… feels so good.” You mumbled, much to Dave’s amusement.

“Really?” He asked, pecking your cheek. “Come one, tell me what you want.” You whined, he just laughed deep in his chest.

“Move… I-I want you to fuck me.” Dave didn’t need to be told twice, immediately pulling his hips back and rocking them forward. He went slow at first, listening to your moans as they filtered past your lips with a needy desperation to cum even when he’d just started.

Gradually his pace increased, finding a good rhythm that had the room filling with your loud moans and skin on skin. “Look at yourself.” He said through grunts. “See that little bump?” He asked, letting your gaze fall to your stomach you saw the bulge formed from his cock. “Look at how deep you’re taking me, how much you love this.” He moved a hand to your stomach, pressing lightly on it so you could really feel it. “You love this.” He repeated.

You nodded and looked to the camera, feeling its beating red gaze on you again. It didn’t feel judgemental or harsh, it was different now. Your legs slid further apart, Dave hit impossibly deeper in your cunt and it made you gasp, eyes widening. He made a point to hit that same spot over and over while your moans got louder. “Oh! Fuck, daddy, please! I-I can’t- I can’t take it, please!”

Dave groaned, the sound falling right into your ear as his head rested on your shoulder, body pressed completely against you. “Yes, you can, you’re doing so good, taking all of me, everything I give you.” He praised, kissing that sensitive spot on your neck. “You can take it, my love.” You whined but his names for you always made your knees weak, and he knew it.

Your whines got more desperate, your nails digging into his arm and pulling on his hair. He pulled out of you, only making you whine louder, cunt clenching around nothing, the sudden loss finally snapping the dam that held back your tears. Dave let you crumble onto the bed, laying on your stomach in front of him.

He hovered above you, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck. “Roll over for me, dear.” You sniffled, looking at him over your shoulder before doing as he requested and rolling onto your back, his arms keeping you caged under him.

He smiled down at you, a hand cupping your cheek, his thumb wiping away the few tears that escaped. “You’re so beautiful.” He mused, kissing away the tears on your other cheek. “This’ll be better, alright?” His hard on was heavy on your stomach, a visual for just how deep he truly had been in you. He sat back, taking his hand from your cheek to take your hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, the other hand went to fix himself with you, allowing him to push in again.

Again he went slow but didn’t bother waiting this time. He moved much slowly this time, not at an agonizing pace, more sweet and tender, a little snap to his thrusts. His gaze stayed glued to your face, looking for any sign of discomfort but all he saw was lust, the flutter of your eyes as that knot got built right back up much faster than it had before. “This is better, isn’t it?” He asked, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, moans flowing with your breathing. “Better.” You said.

“Just wanted to see my face, didn’t you?” He asked, moving a little faster now but still not what he was doing before. “What a sweet girl, loves her daddy so much.” He still held your hand but with his free one he held your hip, thumb stretching to rub your clit, tilting your head back with louder, airy moans.

Your own free hand reached for his, holding his wrist but not stopping him from touching you. “Daddy, I-I’m gonna- hah~” You could barely get the words out before being cut off with more moans.

Dave shushed you. “I know, love, I know, just feel good, don’t worry about talking, alright?” He said, pulling you up to sit in his lap, rocking his hips up. His arms wrapped around you, holding you while he fucked you nice and slow, passionate and deep, your moans filtering right into his ears as they got louder and higher, your gummy walls squeezing him tighter until you finally came around him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding yourself tight to him as pleasure wracked your body. Dave kissed between your neck and shoulder, his movements becoming jerkier while he tried his hardest to muffle his grunts. “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry.” He said, letting you fall back onto the mattress again. “Just look at the camera.” He said, lifting your hips a bit as his thrusts became harsher, your eyes widening as he pounded into you. “Just look at the camera.” He didn’t hold back his groans anymore, how good he felt while splitting you in two.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Home and Warmth - Drabble & Imagine

At first, it’s just silence. The kind of silence that makes you drift into the space between sleep and awareness, your body melting into the mattress. You had climbed into bed before William even got home, letting exhaustion pull you into a haze. But then—

The door creaks open.

There’s no sound beyond that. No footsteps. No sarcastic remark announcing his return. Just an eerie, absolute quiet before—

THUMP.

The unmistakable weight of another body collapsing onto your back. William.

You let out a muffled oof into the pillow, feeling the full force of him drape over you. The scent of his cologne lingers—muted now, faded with the exhaustion that clings to him. He’s still wearing his coat, which is both uncomfortable and oddly reassuring, because it means he was too tired to even take it off before seeking you out.

His arms lazily snake around your sides, one settling beneath you, the other resting just near your head. His cheek presses against your shoulder blade, his whole body heavy, warm, real. He lets out a low, grumbled sigh, his breath fanning against your skin.

"You’re in my spot, love."

You barely manage to twist your head to the side, voice muffled. “No, you’re in mine.”

There’s a deep hum—not quite a protest, but not agreement either. His grip tightens slightly, though, and he buries his face further into your back.

"Too late. Claimed it."

There’s no fight left in him. Just the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against you, the weight of him keeping you anchored to the mattress. He’s dead tired, but he still came straight to you.

You exhale, letting yourself relax underneath him, adjusting just enough so he can get comfortable without suffocating you.

And then, softer—almost sleepily, he mutters against your skin:

"Missed you today."