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unluckilyimnot · 10 months ago

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Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after.

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it.

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you.

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something.

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously.

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day.

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here – especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed.

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush.

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly.

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again.

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you.

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it – he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

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i-get-obsessed-fast · 5 months ago

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Oh baby | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: you and Spencer unexpectedly become parents despite not being together officially

A/N: This is probs my fav fic I’ve written, so far. Hope you guys love it<3 lmk your thots:D also not proof-read I just wanted to get something posted.

BYR(b4 u Reid): Kind of a situationship?, nervous and scared Reid | kissing lol <- [warnings]

You woke up feeling absolutely miserable, maybe even worse than a hangover. A wave of nausea hit you hard, sending you rushing to your bathroom.

Dropping to your knees in front of your toilet, you barely had a second to catch your breath before you started throwing up, your stomach twisting with each heave “gross” you muttered

Flushing the toilet, and brushing your teeth you run to your alarm reading the time 7:30 am

Thirty minutes before you had to be at your desk

You throw on something work-appropriate but comfortable, not having energy to put much effort into your appearance after the rough start to your morning

As you walk towards the door, your eyes flicker to your calendar. Something makes you pause, and you decide to check it

A sinking feeling settles into your stomach when you see it’s around the time you’re supposed to start your cycle, but you quickly brush it off not wanting to stress yourself out even more

Cycles change all the time you convinced yourself it was just happening to you

As soon as the elevator doors opened, you hurried out, making a beeline for your desk.

“Just in time.” Spencer noted as you arrived

“I was worried I was going to be late.”

“You had exactly one minute to spare.” He held up a cup of coffee “I picked it up on the way.”

You took the cup but eyed him skeptically before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards a quieter corner, his brows furrowed in confusion

“It’s a nice gesture, really,” you said as you lifted up the cup “But this looks a little suspicious.”

“Getting you coffee is suspicious?” He questioned

You sighed “I just don’t want the team in our business. They’re already catching on, and I’d rather keep this between us.”

He considered that for a moment before nodding “If it helps, I’ll buy Derek coffee tomorrow to throw them off.” He suggested

You couldn’t help but smile “you’re annoying.”

Spencer chuckled, then, to your surprise, laced his fingers with yours “you know.” He said matter of factly “If anything looks suspicious, it’s you pulling me somewhere private for a conversation.”

You nodded agreeing with him “You’re right.” and with that you let go of his hand “I’ll talk to you later.” you say as you walk away from the tall gorgeous man

You’d be lying if you said you didn't miss the way your fingers felt together or the sounds that leave his mouth when he laughs

It was like music to your ears

You know you shouldn't feel that way since what you guys have isn’t official, and you didn’t want to get hurt.

A few days have passed and it was like each day was worser than the last, now it was headaches, fatigue, nausea all creeping in at the worst moments

But you're convinced its just a bug, between the stress of the last case you and your team did and the lack of sleep it makes sense that your body is shutting down

Except, your girl friends at the BAU don't believe that one bit

“Geez, you look pale.” JJ says as she leans against your desk, arms crossed “And she’s been running to the bathroom a lot.” Emily joins in

You wave them off “I'm just coming down with something”

“Yeah that's what you said yesterday, and the day before.” Penelope recalls “What is this an intervention?” you question

“Nope, just your friends worried about you.” JJ says as she shared a knowing look with Emily and Pen

“It’s nothing.” you assured them

“Hey, I brought you some tea.” Spencer says as he joins the group, setting a cup down in front of you. His eyes scan your face with concern “you look sick.”

Your stomach twists at his comment “Do I really look that bad?” you ask feeling a bit insecure

Spencer's eyes widen slightly, he stumbles on his words “No-no, not bad. I just meant… you seem unwell. That's all.”

Emily smirks, shaking her head “Way to go, Dr. Reid.” she grabs her files and walks off

JJ gives you a sympathetic look as she stands “And that's our cue to leave. Come on, Penelope.” Garcia leans in as she follows JJ “Feel better sunshine.” she says before disappearing down the hall

Spencer shifts on his feet “I’m sorry. I shouldn't of had said it like that.”

You sigh, feeling guilty for your reaction “It’s okay. I’m just feeling extra sensitive today. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

He studies you for a moment, then lowers his voice “Have you thought about seeing a doctor? You've been sick for awhile now.”

You shake your head quickly “It’s not that serious.” but Spencer doesn't look convinced “Well…If you need anything, I'm right here.

You offer him a smile “Thanks, Spence.”

As he walks away, you stare at the tea he left behind. The more you think about it, the more unease settles in your chest. What if this isn’t just a stomach bug? What if it’s something worse.

And worse than that, what if you’re right?

As soon as lunch rolled around, you grabbed JJ, Emily, and Penelope by the arms “Come with me. Now.”

“Where are we going?” Garcia asked, eyeing you curiously “A store.” You hesitated, lowering your voice “I need a test.”

All three of them stopped in their tracks, wide eyed “Like a test test?” JJ asked, eyebrows raised, you nodded the fear in your eyes answering for you

“Okay.” Emily said already walking “Let’s go.”

“Wouldn’t you want to do this with…you know, whoever might’ve done this?”

“Uh, no. He’s busy.” You said quickly, leading them toward the exit, but just as you reached the door, Morgan and Spencer appeared

“Hey, where are you guys headed?” Morgan asked “Yeah, I thought we were all getting lunch at Caesars.” Spencer added, Rossi standing beside him

JJ reacted fast “We’re getting medicine for y/n” Spencer frowned “Oh I can come. I know which one will work best.”

“No, no, no, we got it.” Garcia said quickly waving him off Spencer narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing something was off, but eventually nodded “Alright. See you later.”

The four of you bolted out the door.

Inside the store, you stood frozen in front of all the pregnancy test selections, overwhelmed.

“Why are there so many?” You groaned, scanning the shelves “These are easy to read.” JJ said, grabbing a Clear Blue and handing it to you

You grimaced “Do I have to put it on the register?”

Emily snorted “You literally profile murderers for a living, but you’re scared to purchase a pregnancy test?”

“No wonder you might be pregnant” Garcia teased “Were you too scared to buy condoms too?”

You shot them a glare “Hilarious.”

JJ rolled her eyes and grabbed the test from your hand “I’ll put it down.” you sighed in relief “Thank you.”

At the register, you all smiled stiffly at the cashier as he rang it up. He barely acknowledged you guys, but that didn't stop you from feeling widely judged.

Back at the BAU, the four of you rushed to the restroom.

“Pee on the stick, wait five minutes, and we’ll either celebrate or cry.” JJ instructed “Your call.”

You exhaled, feeling like you were preparing for battle “Alright.” Stepping into the stall, you did what you had to do, then set the rest down on the counter, turning it away from you

“Timer is set.” Garcia announced, your heart pounded, you knew what the results was going to be, and that terrified you more than anything

The four of you sat in silence on the restroom floor, gross, but none of you cared right now. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air

“Time’s up.” Garcia finally said glancing at you with concern, you swallowed hard “I can't look.”

“Want us to?” Emily offered you nodded “Please”

JJ picked it up first. The three of them leaned in, their expressions unreadable. Then, without a word JJ handed it to you

Your hands trembled as you looked down

Pregnant

Your heart dropped, and a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to break. Not here, not now. Instead, you slowly nodded, forcing out a breath “okay”

“So…is this good or bad?” Garcia asked, studying your face, you opened your mouth, then closed it “I don't know.” you admit

“Are you going to tell him?” JJ asked gently, you nodded “eventually.”

Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze “We’ll give you time to process, when you're ready, we’re here.”

Each of them gives you a small, comforting smile before slipping out of the restroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling

“Why? Why? Why?” you whispered to yourself

This wasn't just about you.

This was about Spencer.

Your coworker.

A man you weren't even in a relationship with.

How the hell were you going to tell him?

You stepped out the restroom, exhausted and ready to be anywhere but here. Your body felt heavy, your mind even more so. All you wanted was to crawl into bed and shut the world out.

“Hey! We’re still on for tonight?”

The familiar voice made you stop in your tracks. Of course it was Spencer.

“Tonight?” You frowned, genuinely confused

He gave you a puzzled look “Movie night? At my place? Like it has been every Friday for the past six months?”

“Oh…right.” You let out an awkward laugh, and rubbed the back of your neck “Sorry, I’m just- are you sure you want me there? I don’t want to get you sick.” You say even though you knew what you had wasn’t contagious

“I’ll be fine.” He said with a small smile “I can disinfect everything.”

You hesitated before nodding “then, I’ll be there.” “Great.”

Silence settled between you two, he looked at you like he knew something was off, and part of you wanted to just say it right then and there.

“Well, I should get back to my files.” You said quickly making an excuse to leave.

Before you could slip away, he gently grabbed your hand “Are you sure you’re alright?” His voice was quieter now, more concerned.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.” You forced a reassuring smile, but his eyes searched yours unconvinced

“Did I…do something?”

“What? No!” Your stomach knotted at the thought of him blaming himself “why would you think that?”

He hesitated “Just how you’ve been acting recently, I want to know if it’s because of me.”

You sighed, squeezing his hand before pulling away “It’s not you, I promise.”

He nodded but the uncertainty was still there “Okay.”

With that, you turned and walked back to your desk, diving into your files, forcing yourself to focus. For a couple hours, it worked. You got lost in the work, grateful for the temporary escape— until a voice whispered right into your ear

“So… who’s the father?”

You jumped, nearly knocking over your coffee “Jesus Garcia.” She grinned unapologetically “Sorry, did I scare the baby?”

You glared at her “No, you scared me.” She leaned in closer “Can I take a guess?”

You gave her a warning look “You don’t know him.”

Garcia scoffed “Sweetie, I know this guy. Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell just by the way you two interact. You guys are getting it on.”

Your face burned “Penelope.”

She wiggled her eyebrows “So, it is who I think it is.” You sighed, lowering your voice “You have to keep this a secret. Please.”

She immediately sobered, nodding “Of course, but you are telling him, right?”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Spencer who was talking to Hotch across the room “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you guys, no matter what you choose to do.” Garcia said warmly you gave her a small grateful smile

“Thank you. I just- I don’t know what to do. I know my options, obviously, but I don’t think I can go through with that. But at the same time, I don’t want to do this if Spencer isn’t ready. I don’t want to hold him back.”

Garcia shook her head “Look, he loves you. It’s so obvious the little things he does for you, the way he talks about you when you aren’t around. He is going to be ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your hands “we’re not even together.” The admission felt embarrassing, like it somehow made everything worse

“Honey, you know Spencer. It takes him awhile, but he’ll come around to making it official. He’s just scared.” You exhaled leaning back into your chair

“Yeah…maybe.”

“not maybe— definitely” she corrected “Just give him time.”

The work day ended, and you had finally returned home, you threw yourself on your bed still in your work clothes but too lazy to change

You laid there deep in your thoughts until you drifted off to sleep

You weren’t sure how long you had been out but there was knocking at your door that woke you

You looked through the hole and seen it was Spencer, he looked worried “Spencer?” You question as you open the door allowing him to enter

“I was calling, you never answered. I got worried.” He tells you as he looks at you scanning to make sure you were alright “I fell asleep, I’m so sorry.” You apologize “no it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re safe.”

“Today was exhausting.” You admitted. He gave you a look of understanding “Can I do anything to help?”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his voice. He was always quick to offer whatever he could “No, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? I give great massages.” He teased, a small smirk playing on his lips, you let out a small laugh “I’m sure, Spencer. How about we just watch a movie?”

He nodded, clearly liking the idea “what are you in the mood for?”

You thought for a moment. After everything today, you just wanted something comforting, something that reminded you of simpler times

“The Fox and the Hound.”

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft smile “That’s a good one.”

“Can you set it up while I change?” You asked “of course.” Spencer replied without hesitation

You stepped into your room, closing the door behind you. As you emptied your pockets your fingers brushed against the pregnancy test. You sighed, staring at it for a moment before tucking it away in your nightstand drawer

Once you had changed into something more comfortable, you walked back out, expecting to see Spencer in the living room but he wasn’t there. You glanced around and spotted him in the kitchen.

“I decided we needed popcorn.” He casually said as he poured some into a bowl “That’s a good idea.” You smiled

Settling on the couch, you grabbed the remote as Spencer joined you, sitting down beside you with the bowl in hand.

You pressed play and it didn’t take long for you to immersive yourself in the familiar comfort of the movie

The movie held your full attention, so much so that you barely noticed every time your hand brushed against Spencer's in the popcorn bowl.

It had always been your favorite movie as a kid, but now watching it while being pregnant, it felt different.

Then came the scene, the scene that always broke your heart as a child and even now as an adult

The little old lady drives off in her car, away from the Fox leaving him in the woods to be free. It felt like it hit you harder then ever before, and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears

Spencer turned his head, noticing the way your shoulders shook “Are you crying?” He asked softly “no.” You lied even as you wiped at your cheeks

You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, trying to play it off. Spencer shook his head, shifting to face you. Without a word, he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear “Hey, it’s alright. It’s a sad scene.” he agreed

Your eyes met his “I think I could use that massage now.” a small smile played on his lips “I think you could too.”

You turned around, away from his gaze, and pulled your hair to the side giving him full access to your back. His hands found your shoulders, pressing in firmly. The tension in your muscles melted under his touch.

“You’re tense.” He murmured. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut “that feels good.”

“So, what’s been on your mind?” He asked your eyes snapped open “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been really stressed lately, today especially. You told me it’s not me, so… what is it?”

You hesitated, knowing this was the moment. You couldn’t keep avoiding it.

“Spencer.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper, his hands stilled “yeah?”

You turned to face him, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. His stomach dropped, he didn’t know what you were about to say.

“Hold on.” You murmured, quickly getting up. You rushed to your room, grabbing the test from your nightstand. When you returned, Spencer was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed in concern

You sat down, heart pounding “I have something to show you.” You say as you hold out the test to him, Spencer took it hesitantly, his eyes scanning the results

His lips parted slightly “oh.”

That single word terrified you

You weren’t sure what he was thinking.

Spencer on the other hand, his mind was racing so fast he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. His fingers tightened around the plastic stick.

“Say something.” You say as you watch him intently, his head snapped up, eyes wide, searching yours as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces “You’re…pregnant.” He said

You nodded “yeah.”

Spencer swallowed hard, looking back down at the test, then back to you “it’s mines..right?” He questioned hopeful that you wouldn’t have been with anyone else “of course it’s yours.” You said quickly, feeling a strange mix of emotions, offense, anxiety, fear.

“Right. No, I-i didn’t mean it like that, I just-” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he tried to process “This is…a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Spencer went quiet again, his mind clearly catching up to reality.

And then, finally, he looked at you “How are you feeling?” He softly asked “I don’t know. Scared, overwhelmed.” You admitted

Spencer nodded and reached for your hand, taking it in his, it felt warm and grounding.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before taking his hand away and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. He held it up between you.

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while.” He admitted “It’s a list… of all the reasons I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Your breath caught “Spence-”

“I’m not finished.” He said quickly, his eyes pleading with you to let him get it all out “I’ve been planning to tell you for so long. Too long. I should’ve said something the moment I realized it was you.”

You just stared at him, heart pounding, and he cleared his throat “I even calculated the probability of a successful relationship based on compatibility factors and shared interests.” He let out a small, nervous laugh

That made you smile. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze

“I want to be with you.” He said, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable “But don’t say yes because of the baby. Say yes because you want me the way I want you.”

His eyes searched yours “say something?” He whispered, you swallowed hard, then nodded towards the paper “Can I read it?”

Relief washed over his face as he handed it to you without hesitation “You just carry it around?”

He nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips “It reminds me of you. So even when you’re not with me, it still feels like you are.”

Your chest ached, and you smiled at him with tears in your eyes “I want to be with you.” You say

Spencer had never felt anything like this before, it was overwhelming in the best way, pure happiness, the kind he never thought he’d get to have.

Despite the fear of the unknown, he knew one thing for certain, he was happy it was you he was going to experience this with.

He pulled you into him, the embrace feeling both familiar and new. This time, there was no more unspoken words, no more uncertainty. Just the two of you, together, exactly as you were meant to be

“So…do the girls know?” He asked, remembering how strangely they all had been acting at lunch, you nodded “They were with me when I found out.”

Spencer exhaled, his eyes softening “I wish I had been there.”

“I know.” You murmured guilt tugging at your chest “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head “I just, I don’t want to miss anything. Not with you, not with this baby. Every doctors visit, every sick day, every moment, I want to be there.”

His sincerity made your heart ache in the best way “I want you to be there too.”

His fingers gently tilted your chin before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft, and lingering.

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, asking for more, you gave in without hesitation.

After he pulled away, he smiled, his eyes full of wonder “I can’t wait to see you grow.” You brushed a hand over his cheek, returning his smile “I can’t wait to see you become the best dad.”

Should I make this into a mini series ? Where the next part can be them telling the team? 🤭 next chapter -> Family | Criminal Minds

check out my other works<3 here

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princesseilish · 11 days ago

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BEEN DONE

Ex-wife!Paige x Ex-wife!Reader

Warnings: slight angst? Jealousy, drama, crying, very messy (my fav)

Synopsis: even though you and Paige aren't together anymore, she uses the shared custody and drop offs to flirt, she can't help it. She's desperate.

Sunday Night, Drop-Off at Your Place

It’s past 8PM when the knock comes — two short, one long. Hazel’s pattern.

You open the door to find Violet mid-sentence, “…and then I told her you were my real best friend but she said I’m mean and I said ‘no I’m not, I’m five!’ and then Hazel said—”

“Hi,” Paige cuts in, breathless behind them. “Sorry we’re late. Again.”

Hazel hugs your waist gently as she passes by, her little fingers brushing over the hem of your hoodie, a soft, reassuring stim before she shuffles inside. You kiss the top of her head, then turn to Violet who’s holding a stuffed dolphin and a single Croc.

“Where’s the other shoe?” you ask her.

She points at Paige. “She forgot it. Mommy Paige made me leave it in the car so she could ‘be on time,’” Violet adds, using air quotes way too confidently for someone who can’t tie her shoes yet.

You shoot Paige a look. “You were already late.”

Paige leans casually against the doorframe, hands in her Wings hoodie pocket. “Exactly. What’s one more Croc when I’m already the villain?”

You roll your eyes and start to close the door, but she slips a foot inside.

“I’ll grab it tomorrow,” she offers. “Or maybe I’ll just stay until bedtime? Tuck them in? Maybe steal some of those lemon bars you always pretend not to make anymore?”

You sigh. “Paige.”

“What?” she says, feigning innocence. “Can’t I just hang out? For old time’s sake?”

She’s teasing. You know she’s teasing. But it’s the same teasing she used to do when you were hers, when things were simpler — before late practices and long road trips and missed dinners became more common than ‘I love you.’

“I don’t think your fake emergencies to ‘see the girls’ are fooling anyone,” you reply, deadpan.

“I genuinely love my daughters,” Paige says, placing a hand over her heart. “And your lemon bars. And possibly you. It’s hard to say.”

You open your mouth to respond but—

“Mommy,” Violet calls from the hallway, not even looking up from her coloring book. “Is your friend coming over again tonight? The one with the sparkly nails and the blue water bottle? She said I could do her hair if you let her stay again.”

Paige blinks.

You blink.

Hazel, on the couch, softly hums without missing a beat. “Violet…”

“What?” Violet asks, utterly unbothered. “She slept on the couch. I saw her hoodie.”

Paige straightens up, expression tight but trying to stay cool. “Sooo… you’re having friends sleep over now?”

“She’s a friend from pilates, Paige.”

“She has a sparkly water bottle,” Paige says seriously. “That’s advanced-level crush behavior.”

You glare. “Don’t be childish.”

She smirks. “You used to like when I was childish.”

You sigh. “You’re really not gonna go until I kick you out, are you?”

“I mean… if you want to physically remove me…” Paige grins wider, then leans in, voice lower. “Still got the same grip strength, by the way. Been working on it.”

You open the door wider.

“Bye, Paige.”

She stands there, grinning, but something flickers behind her eyes. Maybe a flash of regret. Maybe just more of the same yearning she’s been quietly carrying since you signed the papers.

“See you Friday?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“And if I drop Hazel’s Croc off early, that doesn’t count as seeing you midweek, right?”

You shut the door in her face — gently.

Inside, Hazel is already curled up on the couch with her fidget blanket, and Violet’s dancing around the kitchen singing about sparkly nails.

You turn off the porch light.

Outside, Paige lingers in the dark for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Later That Night, After Drop-Off

The girls are in pajamas, Hazel in her favorite soft long-sleeve and Violet in mismatched ones she insisted on choosing herself — sparkly butterfly pants and a Wings tee that clearly once belonged to Paige.

You’re on the couch with a cup of tea, mentally replaying every word from earlier like some sad rerun. Paige’s smirking face still lingers in your mind, like she’s camped out behind your eyes.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” Violet asks, already climbing up beside you without waiting for permission. Her stuffed dolphin flops onto your lap, followed by one Croc — the surviving one.

“You say that like it’s not your bed half the week,” you murmur, scooting the blanket over.

Violet snuggles in, her curls all wild and tangled. She’s warm and soft and full of trouble. “Hazel’s being boring,” she whispers. “She’s writing a poem.”

“She’s not boring,” you say automatically.

“She doesn’t use glitter,” Violet says flatly.

You stifle a smile. The room falls quiet for a minute.

Then, as if she can feel your brain settling, Violet turns to you with a sigh.

“I miss Mommy already.”

You blink. “She just dropped you off, baby.”

“I know.” Violet hugs her dolphin tighter. “But I miss her jokes. And when she does the robot. And when she lets me wear her hats.”

You nod softly.

“And her hair always smells like marshmallows,” Violet adds. “You smell like laundry.”

“Thanks.”

“She said she’s gonna teach me how to shoot backwards, and I’m gonna be on the Wings too, and we’re gonna be the first mommy-and-kid basketball team.”

You turn toward her, amused. “She told you that?”

“She pinky promised.” Violet extends her hand dramatically to prove it.

You shake your head, but you feel that familiar tug in your chest. The one that always creeps in when Paige is mentioned — which, lately, is constantly.

“I drew her today,” Violet says suddenly, sitting up. “Wanna see?”

She scrambles off the couch and runs to her backpack, pulling out a crumpled paper with a wobbly drawing of a tall stick figure in a Wings jersey, holding hands with a smaller one — curly hair, glitter dress, the whole deal.

You look closer. “That’s you?”

“Duh.”

Your heart squeezes. “This is really good, baby.”

“I’m gonna give it to her Friday,” she says proudly. “And then maybe she’ll stay for the weekend instead of leaving.”

Your breath catches.

Violet doesn’t notice. She’s already crawling back under the blanket. “You still like her, right?”

You pause. “Vi…”

“It’s okay if you do,” she says matter-of-factly. “She still likes you. She was looking at your butt when you bent over to pick up my dolphin.”

You nearly choke on your tea. “What?!”

“She made a face,” Violet says casually, then mimics a cartoonish wide-eyed expression. “Like that.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“She’s your favorite,” Hazel calls from the hallway. You didn’t even hear her come over.

Violet turns, delighted. “See?! Told you.”

You sigh, already dreading Friday.

Because your ex-wife is her whole world.

And unfortunately, you remember exactly what that feels like.

#princess diary ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚#wlw #wlw fiction #wlw post #lesbian #paige bueckers x y/n #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers uconn #paige blockers #fanfic #fanfiction #wuh luh wuh

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gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii, I absolutely LOVE your writing and I was just rewatching S3 of Criminal Minds and Spencers confession about being bullied in E16 made me so sad, I just want him to be happy and loved😭 . Anyway, I was wondering (if you're still taking reqs) if you could do something to do with that story about him getting bullied and him thinking back on those times when he was so lonely and how grateful he is that he now has reader and the rest of the team that care about him.

grateful — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship, mention of spencer's past in school, no details of the bullying though , mostly fluff and spencer just being nostaglic the entire time a/n: haii !! i wrote like 3 different versions of this, which is why it took so long !!! it might be one of my fav things i've ever written <3

You stifled a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat on the edge of the bed.

Behind you, Spencer shifted, his arms sliding around your waist as he pulled you back against him. “We could just sleep in,” he mumbled sleepily into your shoulder. His embrace was warm and comforting.

You couldn’t help but smile, letting yourself sink back into him for just a second, just long enough to savor the way his fingers absently traced patterns against your side. But duty called, and with a reluctant sigh, you shook your head.

“You wish,” you teased, though your voice was just as soft as his.

Glancing over your shoulder, you took in the sight of him, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes barely open, dark lashes fluttering as he fought to stay awake.

“I’ll take a shower,” you offered, turning just enough to press a kiss to the side of his head. “If you want, I’ll wake you up when I’m done. You can sleep a little longer.”

Spencer didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pressed a drowsy kiss to the curve of your shoulder before collapsing back onto the mattress with a muffled thud. “Thank you,” he sighed, already halfway gone. You chuckled, watching as his breathing evened out almost instantly.

After you stepped out of the shower, you dressed slowly, pulling on the soft sweater jacket Spencer had given you for your birthday. Spencer hadn’t moved an inch, still sprawled across the bed with one arm tucked under the pillow, his face half-buried in it. You sat beside him, brushing a few stray curls away from his forehead.

“Spencer,” you murmured, leaning down.

His nose scrunched, and he let out a soft, protesting sound before his eyes finally cracked open, blinking up at you with confusion of someone who wasn’t entirely sure what year it was.

“I’m awake,” he lied, his voice rough with sleep.

You grinned. “Sure you are.”

He groaned, rubbing at his eyes before finally pushing himself upright. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in every direction, and you couldn’t resist reaching out to smooth it down, even though you knew it was a lost cause. Then, without warning, he slumped against you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he mumbled into the fabric of your sweater, his arms winding around your waist again.

Your heart squeezed. “Thank you, Spencer.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “So do you.”

He huffed a laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “I just woke up.”

“So?” You carded your fingers through his hair, smiling as he leaned into the touch. “You look very handsome.”

You felt him smile against your shoulder, the curve of his lips pressing gently into the fabric of your sweater. Your fingers drifted from his back to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp in the way that always made him melt. Spencer made a soft, contented sound, nuzzling closer. You let him linger there, assuming he was still shaking off the sleepiness. But the truth was, he was wide awake, eyes half-lidded, staring absently at the floor as he soaked in the warmth of your body.

Most of all, he savored the moment.

Being woken up with soft touches and sleepy compliments. Not having to overanalyze whether you meant them, because he felt it, in the way you held him, in the way your voice softened when you said his name. It was still strange, sometimes, how easily you disarmed him.

In the beginning, he’d freeze up whenever you praised him. A lifetime of schoolyard taunts and sideways glances had conditioned him to brace for the catch. But you’d been patient. You’d started small—“I like your smile”—then waited, letting him get used to it. Until he stopped fighting it. Until he could finally believe you.

Now, he just smiled.

“Spence, don’t fall asleep on my shoulder,” you murmured, pressing another kiss to his hair.

His smile widened. “I’m not.”

With a theatrical sigh, he finally lifted his head, stretching his arms above him until his spine gave a quiet pop. He shot you a lopsided smirk before shuffling toward the bathroom. You grabbed the blow dryer, shaking your head fondly as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. By the time Spencer finished brushing his teeth and stepping under the shower, the steam had curled around the bathroom mirror . He toweled off hastily, pulling on his pajama pants and his worn FBI Academy t-shirt. Padding barefoot into the bedroom, he paused in the doorway, watching you.

You sat in front of the vanity mirror, the blow dryer humming in your hand as you tilted your head, fingers combing through your damp hair. For a moment, Spencer just stared. Then you caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled.

“Want me to dry your hair?” you offered, clicking off the dryer, so you could hear his answer. Spencer nodded before he could overthink it.

You stood, gesturing to the chair, and he sank into it without hesitation, his damp pajama sleeves leaving tiny dark spots on the fabric. A flicker of self-consciousness prickled at him, realizing he was getting everything wet, but then your fingers brushed his nape, sweeping his curls aside, and the thought dissolved.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, turning the dryer back on. He hummed in response, eyes drifting shut. Your hands were gentle , carding through his hair, ruffling it just enough to let the heat reach his scalp.

“Is it too hot?” You leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear.

Spencer shook his head. You kept working, and he smiled when you paused to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

It still amazed him, sometimes. How easily you took care of him.His mind flickered back to years of silent mornings: stumbling out of bed alone, dressing in the dark to avoid his reflection, agonizing over whether to gel his hair or not, contemplating if he had it in him to handle the teasing from the other kids.

Now, here you were, fingers tangled in his curls, doing his hair for him.

“Do you want to gel it back today?” you asked, switching off the dryer.

Spencer shook his head immediately, and your smile told him you’d expected that answer. He knew how much you loved his curls, though you’d never hesitated to tell him he looked devastating with it slicked back, either.

“Good,” you said, ruffling his hair playfully. “I get to keep you soft today.” You ruffled his hair one last time, your fingers lingering just a moment longer in those soft curls.

"Thank you," Spencer murmured with a big smile, catching your gaze in the mirror.

As you turned to your jewelry box, a comfortable silence set between you. Spencer hovered near the closet, fingers absently pushing through hangers.

"How many files do you have to work on today?" you asked, tilting your head as you debated between simple studs or the dangling earrings Spencer had gifted you last Christmas.

"Not many." His hand paused on a gray cardigan before moving past it. The fabric was too heavy for the season. "Why? Do you have a lot?"

You hesitated just a beat too long, fingers freezing over your jewelry selection. Spencer didn't need his profiling skills to recognize that tell.

"Just a couple," you mumbled, suddenly very interested in a pair of earrings.

Spencer turned fully then, leaning against the closet doorframe with arms crossed. The smile that tugged at his lips was equal parts exasperated and unbearably fond.

It was so different from the transactional relationships of his past. His classmates' sudden friendliness still left a bitter taste, their smiles never reaching their eyes as they slid their unfinished homework across the library table. How quickly their feigned interest evaporated once he'd solved their equations. But you'd rather drown in paperwork than risk inconveniencing him.

The irony wasn't lost on Spencer, the one person he'd move mountains for refused to let him carry even a single file.

Not that it would stop him. He'd already resolved to discreetly claim half your workload once you visited Garcia. Some habits, like his inability to watch you struggle, were too deeply ingrained to break.

When you finally turned from your jewelry box, you found Spencer still frozen before the closet.

"Oh, Spence," you breathed excited, as you jumped to his side. "Can I choose your clothes? Please?"

Spencer didn't even pretend to consider it, as he sat on the bed. "Have at it," he said.

He smiled when he heard your delighted squeal. You studied the closet , your tongue peeking out slightly in concentration as Spencer watched you. The earrings you'd chosen, simple silver hoops, swayed gently as you turned.

"Wanna wear this?" You held up a soft heather-brown cardigan.

Spencer didn't even need to think. "Yes." His answer came instantly, just like his approval of the dark slacks you selected next. Some habits remained, he still reached instinctively for his standard white button-up to wear beneath.

"Okay, put this on." You handed him the outfit.

As Spencer changed, you turned your attention to his tie collection. The rustle of fabric behind you told you he'd pulled on the pants; when you glanced over your shoulder, you found him standing there with the cardigan and button-up still unbuttoned.

"Come here." You hooked a finger through his belt loops, tugging him closer. Starting at his hips, you began buttoning his shirt, working your way up to his throat. Spencer remained perfectly still, his breath shallow as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.

He could have done this himself. Should have, maybe. But right now, Spencer was completely transfixed, by the way your brow furrowed in concentration, by the warmth of your fingers skating across his bare chest, by the incredible normalcy of letting someone this close. You held up a navy tie, tilting your head before shaking it.

"No, not this one," you murmured, turning back to the collection. Spencer barely registered the rejection, he was too busy marveling at how effortlessly you'd touched him, how naturally he'd allowed it.

Years of bullying and taunts he'd never forgotten had conditioned him to change in bathroom stalls. Yet here he stood, letting you dress him. What would his young self think, seeing him now? The thought almost made him laugh.

"Perfect!" Your cheer snapped him back to the present. You looped the tie around his neck. Spencer felt guilt creep up on him, he should be doing this himself, not letting you fuss over him like this. But then you stepped back, your face lighting up with admiration, and the guilt evaporated.

"God, you look good." Your grin was downright smug as you adjusted his collar one last time. "Patting myself on the shoulder here."

Spencer let out a soft chuckle. “Thank you,” he murmured, before cupping your face gently between his hands and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

"You're welcome," you whispered, smiling when he didn't immediately let go. His hazel eyes had gone soft and distant. You touched his wrists where they still framed your face. "You okay, handsome?"

Spencer blinked. "I just love you," he said, so simply it stole your breath before he was pulling you into a hug so tight your toes nearly left the ground. You laughed into his shoulder, the sound muffled by his cardigan as your hands spread across his back. "I love you too."

The morning passed in a blur. You drove to work together, stopped for coffee and chatted about everything and nothing in the car. In the bullpen, you'd barely made a dent in your paperwork when Garcia texted you, summoning you for "urgent sparkle consultations." You pressed a kiss to Spencer's cheek on your way out, smiling at the way his pen stuttered mid-signature.

When you returned, half your files were gone.

You didn't need your profiling training to spot the culprit, Spencer sat at his desk, studiously avoiding your gaze while shuffling papers that definitely weren't his own. The tips of his ears had gone pink. You shook your head, but the grateful smile you shot him made his shoulders relax.

Later that afternoon, as you were wrapping up some notes, Garcia and Morgan strolled over to your desk. “Lunch time, lovebirds,” Morgan said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You two joining us?”

All four of you ended up at Morgan's favorite diner. You stole fries from Spencer's plate and he let you, his arm slung casually over the back of the booth behind you. When Garcia made some obscure pop culture reference that had Morgan laughing loudly, you instinctively turned to Spencer, your eyebrow quirking in silent question. He adored that about you, how you always made sure he was included, how you never let him fake a laugh when he didn't get the joke.

He remembered too many cafeteria tables where laughter died when he approached. Being twelve in a room full of sixteen-year-olds meant always being one step behind, always the outsider looking in.

Now, Spencer found himself laughing genuinely as you explained the joke, your hand squeezing his under the table.

Later that night, you collapsed onto the bed as Spencer's arms opened automatically. You cuddled into his chest, sighing as his hands began tracing absent patterns along your spine.

"Today was nice," Spencer murmured into your hair.

You tilted your head slightly, considering. To you, it had been utterly ordinary.

But Spencer had seemed different. You’d caught him watching you across the bullpen more than once. You’d noticed something was off with him today, but it wasn’t sadness. So, you didn’t press. You figured if he wanted to talk, he would. Now, with your chin propped on his chest, you studied his face. Moonlight from the window caught the gold in his hazel eyes, making them look shiny. He knew exactly what you were asking without words.

"I was just feeling a bit nostalgic today," he admitted, shifting so you could see each other properly. You rolled onto your side, cheek pillowed on your hand, and he mirrored you instinctively.

Your brows knitted slightly at the word 'nostalgic', knowing what you did of his childhood, the term rarely carried anything good with it. But Spencer's thumb brushed the crease in between your eyebrows before you could speak, smoothing away the worry.

"I'm just grateful for you," he whispered. "And the team." His fingers tangled gently in a stray lock of your hair. "Especially you, though."

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the smile that bloomed across your face.

Spencer nodded. "I didn't exactly have much company when I was younger." He was quick to clarify: "I loved spending time with my mom." His smile turned tender at the edges, the way it always did when speaking of Diana. "But I still spent a lot of time alone."

Empty cafeteria seats, the library corners where he'd hidden from bullies, the birthday parties no one attended. You remembered how he'd flinched the first time you'd slipped your hand into his in public, how he'd stared at his phone for a full minute when you'd first texted him just to say good morning.

Gently, you booped his nose. "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're stuck with me forever and ever."

His chuckle was warm and the smile that followed even warmer. "I can live with that," he murmured.

"Good." Your thumb traced the arch of his cheekbone.

A hundred reassurances crowded your tongue, that he'd never eat alone again, that you'd always save him the seat beside you, that every morning could start with you buttoning his shirts if he wanted. But the peace in his eyes kept you silent. This moment was too precious to tarnish with reminders of past loneliness.

So you gave him the simplest truth instead. "I love you." You smiled at him. Eyes full of adoration. "And if it just takes me choosing your clothes to make you this soft every day, I'll gladly do that."

The atmosphere lightened as Spencer laughed. "I liked it," he admitted, his nose scrunching adorably. "Took the pressure off me."

You leaned in closer until your noses brushed. “Seriously,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him once—“I”—then again—“love”—and again—“you.”

With every kiss, his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing slowing as a peaceful smile spread across his face, small dimples appearing in his cheeks. Each syllable pressed into his skin like a seal.

“And I hope you know,”you added between softer kisses now, “you deserve all of this. And all the nice days in the world.”

The final declaration landed with an exaggerated smooch that made him giggle, a sound so purely happy you felt it vibrate through your own chest.

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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a-hermit-pining · 2 months ago

Text

LaDs Men in Book Tropes

AN: for fun because I love AUs

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader

Genre: fluff and crack

Ingredients: 100% fluff

My Fav: hmmm all ig (but Rafayel and Zayne were fun to imagine.

Xavier (mafia boss x student):

You look threatening.

Elegant. Composed. A dagger in one hand, the other resting lightly against your hip. But your slacks are tailored within an inch of their life, and your thighs?

Xavier refuses to blink. Partly out of defiance. Partly because pins and needles are currently climbing up his leg from where he’s been zip-tied to a steel chair for the last hour.

And that’s when your left-hand man mutters something low.

You still. Your gaze narrows. “What do you mean he’s not the right student?” you snap.

Xavier turns his head slowly. Trying very hard not to wince at the sudden cramp behind his knee.

“Tell me,” you say, your voice like a blade slipping under skin, “you did not just kidnap a random man off the street?” The silence answers for him.

Xavier blinks once. Deadpan. “I was literally eating ramen.”

Your henchman tries to defend himself. “He ran, boss. He ran when I asked for his name—”

“Yeah,” Xavier cuts in, shrugging as much as his bindings allow. “Because a man with a neck tattoo and three guns asked if I owed money.”

You sigh. Fold your arms. Lean against the table. “Joke’s on us, then.”

It gets worse.

Because not only is Xavier not the debt-ridden student you were trying to scare straight. He’s a detective. A bored, off-duty, highly observant one. And your organization just gifted him a front row seat to all your illegal operations.

He doesn’t look worried. At all. In fact, he smirks. “So,” he says, tilting his head at you, dark eyes gleaming, “this where you tell me I’m your fiancé now?”

You arch a brow. “Do you want it to be?”

Rafayel (Office Romance):

You’re the creative director. His boss.

And he’s your trusted, anxiety-inducing, dangerously talented graphic designer.

Every time he disappears from Slack for more than five minutes, you feel the phantom grays sprouting at your temples.

So when Rafayel lands in this world, his heart’s a mess.

Because why the hell are you in a three-piece suit on a Thursday? Why are you speaking in PowerPoint? (He doesn’t realize there’s a conference.)

He goes through the full rom-com shbang...blushing at close proximity, nearly yeeting his stylus when you lean down to adjust his brush settings. He would be outraged by your bossy interference... if this version of you didn’t look so competent doing it.

You bet he becomes the undisputed champion of in-office work. Remote who? He's commuting through a hurricane if it means lunch breaks with you.

He silently laments not being your assistant. The daily chaos? The tension? The dramatics? That’s the kind of messy office romance he lives for.

Zayne (Jock x Nerd):

Zayne has approximately 25 breakdowns the second he realizes he’s been transmigrated into a high school AU.

Why him? Why now? What ancient evil has he offended? This is worse than open surgery without gloves.

And then he sees you, leaning casually against his locker in a lacrosse jersey, with a dopey grin and the faint scent of Axe trailing after you like bad decisions. You’re radiating school spirit and main character energy. The golden retriever jock.

He looks down at himself: books clutched like a shield, glasses sliding down his nose, striped polo tucked into khakis.

Oh no. He’s the nerd.

He goes completely still when you reach out and push his glasses up with two fingers, like you've done it multiple times. He hasn't hit the growth spurt yet so you lean down while doing it. Dammit.

“Tutoring in period five?” you grin.

He blinks. Swallows. Soul exits body.

This is it. This is his villain origin story. Or worse, his slow-burn romance arc.

Sylus (match maker):

“You are my worst client,” you snap, slamming your planner shut so hard your pen jumps. “You’re going to die alone, General Sylus. Your sword might be your only lifelong companion.”

You’re trying so hard not to throw your teacup at him. But unfortunately, treason is still illegal.

Match #23. Another perfectly elegant, emotionally stable, high-ranking woman. Gone. Sent running by him.

You’re down to your last lead, your last shred of credibility, and you swear if one more noble family calls to "check in on your progress with the charming general,” you’re going to fake your own death.

This was supposed to be easy. He was supposed to be easy.

A war hero. Stoic. Loyal. Families should have lined up to offer their finest daughters and strongest family swords.

But no. Sylus defies every known law of socialization.

“Making her dig for a brooch?” you bark. “In the rain, Sylus?”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Just raises his teacup, and smirks. That slow, infuriating, battlefield-smirk that somehow makes you want to both kiss him and knock him out.

“If she can’t find a brooch,” he shrugs, “how will she find a way to my heart?”

You scream internally. Outwardly, you smile. Professionally. Barely.

One more match. And then you’re done. Or in prison. Possibly both.

Caleb (Idol x Bodyguard):

This is his dreamland.

You. All the time. Every damn second.

He’s not even ashamed of it.

Because this you. the idol version of you. is free. Untouched by the mess of the other lifetime. And Caleb? Caleb is thriving.

Your bodyguard. Your shadow. Your guard dog. The reincarnation of Cerberus himself.

He stands next to you on red carpets. He scans every crowd before you hit the stage. He has a black folder of “threatening letters” and a second one for “bad fanfiction.” He has read all of it. He will not talk about it.

And backstage? Oh. The jealousy he inspires.

He gets to see it all, barefaced you in pajamas, you blowing raspberries at the vocal coach, you dancing with one sock and a protein bar.

The fandom eats it up. They ship you both. Hard. They make memes. Fan cams. Slow motion edits of him holding an umbrella over your head.

Is he labeled a fandom traitor? Absolutely. Is he proud of it? Yes.

He zips up your jacket when you forget. Keeps track of your vitamins. Carries four backup chargers, three types of gum, and a taser.

And when you fall asleep on the van ride home, head resting on his shoulder, he doesn’t move. He barely breathes.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace headcannon #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #caleb x reader #love and deepspace reaction #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #gn reader #fluff #crack fic

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illyrianbitch · 3 months ago

Text

Somewhere, There Was Love

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel meets you on a Saturday. He loses you on one, too.

Warnings: angst, some hurt/comfort, slow burn in reverse, bittersweet ending, love and everything broken it brings

Word Count: 3k

For @sjmxreaderweek Day 1: Beginnings/Endings

re-read one of my fav works of mine and got tempted to write in present tense again. enjoy this last min work <3

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Some poets argue that the greatest stories end in the same place they began.

Azriel is’t sure what he thinks about that— what he thinks about poets, and poetry, and pretty words in general.

He only knows this: He met you on a Saturday. And he lost you on one, too.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s evening when Azriel sees you for the first time.

He’s trailing behind his family, half-listening to Cassian grumble about something or other as they stroll through the River District. His wings ache, the sky’s too blue, and he’s already planning how to disappear before dinner even starts. That’s when his shadows twitch, a subtle ripple of attention tugging him slightly off course.

Your eyes lift at the same time his do. You meet.

You’re standing across the street, half-hidden behind stacked moving boxes. Your hair catches in the wind and your sleeves are rolled up past your elbows. There’s a smudge of dust on your cheek.

For one, suspended second, you hold each other’s gaze. There’s nothing dramatic about it, not really—no lightning bolt, no crackling bond. Just a glance. But it hooks something in his chest.

He thinks, absurdly, that you must be a dream.

He almost asks if you need help. Almost. But Cassian shouts his name, and by the time Azriel turns back, you’re gone.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You arrive with Feyre a week later.

She introduces you as her friend. A traveler who’s decided to settle in Velaris—for now.

“She’s been all over,” Feyre says. “Autumn, Day, even parts of the mortal lands.”

“I like movement,” you explain. “The idea of not belonging anywhere.”

Azriel watches the way you speak. The way your eyes flick toward him sometimes, like you remember him from that moment in the street. Like it meant something to you, too.

After what feels like forever, Feyre steers you straight to him.

You smile at him like you know exactly what she’s doing. There’s amusement behind your eyes, mischief curling at the corners of your mouth. “Hi.”

Azriel’s shadows still. And his heart—traitorous, stupid heart—stutters. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling back until Cass elbows him.

“Azriel,” he says, holding out a hand. He’s never done that so naturally. “Nice to meet you.”

You shake his hand and hold his gaze. “I saw you when I was moving in.”

Azriel nods, caught.

“You didn’t offer to help.”

“I almost did.”

Your smile deepens. “Almost doesn’t lift boxes.”

He’s never felt his shadows this interested in anyone before. They lean forward, curious. So does he. He’ll think about this later. How simple it all seemed. How dangerous it already was.

He knows, deep down, that he’s a goner.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You start showing up more.

Azriel considers you a friend, even.

Dinner invitations. Walks. Late nights spent sitting near each other while everyone else is loud and laughing. You tease him, lightly at first, then with more confidence. Azriel isn’t used to someone challenging him like that. You laugh at his dryness, at the way he reacts. He finds himself smiling more than he ever has.

One night, you brush your foot against his under the table. A test. He doesn’t move away. You tilt your head. He mirrors you. There’s a private smile between you, and Azriel feels young. Reckless. Seventeen again.

That night, he tells you you’re beautiful.

He means it like a prayer.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The first kiss comes two weeks later. Azriel isn’t sure if thats fast or slow for him. Time doesn’t really exist when it comes to you, he’s noticed. It never feels real.

You’re sitting beside him on the roof of your apartment.

You talk about the world. About places you want to go, cities you want to see. Azriel listens like he always does—with everything he has.

“It’s fun,” you say, tipping your head to rest against his shoulder. “To think about all the places you and I can go.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. "It is."

He turns to look at you. Your eyes are already on him, and there's something soft there. Something he thinks might be meant just for him.

He kisses you then. Slowly. It feels like he’s beginning to learn the language of you.

And when you pull away, breathless, you whisper, “You taste like rain.”

He kisses you again.

You make a small noise of contentment and curl your fingers in his shirt. He thinks, for a terrifying, beautiful second, that he could love you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You redecorate all the time. Az thinks its funny—how unattached you are to furniture, how quickly your possessions cycle out of your hold.

He helps you carry a shelf upstairs, and you thank him with a crooked smile and a story about the city you lived in before this one. You always talk like you're halfway out the door, like everywhere is temporary. But still, you stay for now.

He flies with you one night. You giggle against his chest at the way the wind tickles your skin. You land on the roof of a nearby apartment, your knees brushing as his shadows curl protectively around your shoulders.

You talk about traveling again. How you want to see every court, every continent. You tell him about the sea-glass beaches of the Summer Court, the northern stars in Winter, the caves in the wilds.

You want to see everything. “Even the places no one thinks are beautiful,” you say. “Because I think they are.”

Azriel listens. Nods. Smiles when you do.

You don’t notice that he never once says he wants to go.

He doesn’t know if you’ll ask him to come.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say if you do.

It’s all a fantasy anyway.

So he just says, “Tell me where we’d go first.”

And you do.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He finds a small bag in your closet one night. Just sitting there. Like it’s been packed for a while.

“You going somewhere?” he asks.

“I always keep one ready.”

“For what?”

You shrug. “In case I wake up one day and the air feels wrong.”

Azriel doesn’t ask if you’ve ever done it before. He doesn’t want to know the answer. But it sits with him for days, like some sort of warning. Some sort of promise.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You fall asleep on the couch beside him. Head tipped toward his shoulder.

Azriel doesn’t move for a long time. Not even to breathe too deeply. As if the whole room might shift and you’ll wake. Or worse—vanish.

His shadows curl toward you and brush lightly against your hair. One of them flicks your wrist like it’s counting the beat of your pulse.

You don’t stir.

You trust him. That knowledge sits heavy in his chest.

Azriel gently reaches down, brushing a hand over your temple. He’s going to miss this moment. It’s already a memory.

He thinks—not for the first time—that he should leave. Walk away before it means something he can’t undo. Before you mean something more.

But his shadows refuse.

They’ve already decided.

And Azriel is starting to think he has, too.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You fall into a rhythm. Slow mornings. Rooftop evenings. Shared coffees. He reads journal entries you’re too shy to show anyone else. You sketch him once, from memory, and it unnerves him how well you capture the softness he tries to hide.

He tells you that you smell like smoke and sweet things. You kiss him in the quiet of his room. He starts keeping your favorite fruit in his kitchen. His nightstand looks like you.

“I’d like to disappear,” you say one night, sprawled across him. “Just pick a direction and keep walking until it feels like enough.”

“You’d get tired,” he murmurs.

“Maybe. But I’d get free, too.”

He falls asleep to your breathing, only to wake up an hour later. You’re still lying on his chest, fingers trailing across his exposed skin. His shadows are asleep and he can barely pry an eye open.

It’s funny how exhausted he is around you. In a good way. He’s never slept this good.

You trace shapes—stars, maybe. Then words.

“What are you drawing?” he murmurs.

“Nothing important.” He feels the pull in your cheeks as you smile against his skin. A teasing, little thing.

He tugs you closer, closes his eyes, and welcomes sleep again.

Before he succumbs to the darkness, he focuses on the pattern of your fingertips. You’re writing something. Words. He can’t help it. He decodes them.

I love you.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, afraid to breathe, afraid to say it out loud and shatter it. But he feels it. Deep in his bones.

And the feeling already hurts.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s an early morning when he says something dry and sarcastic. You roll your eyes and call him a liar. He doesn’t deny it. You lean forward and say, “You’re not nearly as mysterious as you want everyone to believe.”

And then you kiss him.

He smiles into this kiss, as he always does now, and his hands come up, fingers curling around your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. His shadows wrap around you both like instinct.

Later, he tells you that being with you has made him afraid in a way he’s never been before. You frown and ask him why.

He tells you the truth. He’s never had anything of his own to lose.

You tell him, “Yeah. Me too.”

You make love that night and Azriel finds himself memorizing every part of your body— every sound, every movement. Like he knows, somewhere in his bones, he is bound to lose you.

Azriel has always loved like this—as if time is already running out. He holds joy like it’s a ghost.

That night he says, “Stay.”

You blink. “I am. I’m spending the night.”

He shakes his head. His eyes are wide and pleading. He’s sure he looks like a hopeful child. “No,” he says, “You know what I mean.”

Your brow furrows. You still. Think. Then answer, “For how long?”

“I don’t know. Just—stay.”

You stare at him for a long time. Then nod.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The cracks start small.

You ask him where he’s going. He says he doesn’t know. Just a lead. Just a hunch. You tell him that it worries you. That he can’t expect you to be okay with these constant missions.

He says, “I’ll be fine.”

You say, “You don’t know that.”

He tells you he’d never leave you. You say, “You do. Every time you walk out that door. And I’m not always going to be here when you come back.”

Azriel pretends he doesn’t hear it. For both of your sakes. He goes on the mission anyways.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Still, you stay. Because when it’s good, it’s so good. Azriel cooks you breakfast. You read to him while he sharpens his blades. He writes little notes and slips them into your journals.

You teach him how to write poetry. He never lets anyone else read it.

One night, Azriel props himself up on one elbow.

“Okay,” he says, grinning proud and pink-cheeked. “I think, if we had a daughter, she'd be dramatic. Like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Tiny. Stubborn. Would boss me around.”

“She sounds amazing,” you say, a little breathless.

He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “I’d marry you, you know.”

You swallow hard enough for Az to track the movement.

“I’d marry you tomorrow.”

The wine is burning in his chest. He doesn’t look away. “We could do it barefoot. Somewhere stupid. I wouldn’t care. I just want—”

You kiss him before he finishes. Az keeps his eyes closed, floats in this dream of a life, as you murmur against his lips, “The Autumn court has beautiful chapels.”

You’re happy like this, Azriel thinks. Even when there’s a slight fantasy to it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You don’t go to dinner with his family. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t realized it before Rhysand brings it up.

Azriel asks, “Are you coming tonight?” while pulling on a jacket.

You don’t look up from the book in your hands. “No, I’m alright.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for you to feel it settle. Then—

“You don’t like them,” he says. Not a question.

You sigh. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

You close the book. “They’re your people, Azriel. Not mine.”

“I thought you were friends with Feyre.”

“I’m friendly with Feyre.”

He frowns. “That’s different.”

“I know.”

Az studies you. “I’m not trying to be cruel,” you say. “But this isn’t my home.”

Something shifts in him — not all at once, but a tilt. A slow dawning. He realizes, maybe for the first time, that you don’t want it to be.

Later, in bed, he turns toward you and whispers, “I used to think I liked being alone, too.”

You smile at the ceiling. “You don’t.”

Silence again.

“I need them,” he says eventually. “I need my family.”

“I know,” you whisper.

He wants to ask if you have anyone like that. Wants to ask why you don’t need anyone the way he does. But he already knows you won’t answer. Not out loud.

So he doesn’t ask. It’s probably some answer about how you’re bound to leave, anyways.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re concentrating awfully hard,” you muse, propping your chin in your hands. “It’s just a silly report, baby.”

“It’s not just a report,�� Azriel mutters, still focused, his eyes never leaving the paper. “And you’re in my light.”

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. “In your light? And here I thought I was the light of your life.”

Azriel doesn’t respond, eyes narrowed as he shifts the paper to the side. But his lips twitch, just slightly. He likes when you say things like that. When you acknowledge that, maybe, you have an important place in his life. Somewhere you fit.

You shift closer. “It must take an incredible amount of focus,” you muse, “I mean, what if you get distracted?”

“Won’t happen.”

“Mm.” You tilt your head, considering. “You don’t get distracted?”

“Never.”

“Even if I do this?”

You lean in, tracing your fingers over the ridges of his spine. Your fingers wander further, brushing over the sensitive base of his wings.

A slow inhale escapes him, but still, he doesn’t falter.

You lean closer, close enough that your lips nearly graze his ear as you whisper, “What about now?”

Azriel’s movements still.

Without warning, he turns, his wings flaring slightly, blocking your view of the table as he cages you in with his body.

His duties are long forgotten as he pushes you back onto his bed and devours you for the night. The way you say his name makes him shiver. Tonight, though, it also makes him sad. He’s mourning, he realizes. He’s preparing himself for a loss.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Az traces the beginning of the end back to a stormy Thursday night.

It’s two in the morning when he comes back home. To your apartment. Not his. He stops in the doorway. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket still on, staring at the floor.

You don’t look up. “Were you going to tell me?”

Azriel hesitates. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“It was a suicide mission.”

“I knew I’d make it out.”

“But what if one day you can’t?”

Silence.

You let out a quiet laugh. “How can you be so sure of yourself and still hate yourself like this?”

He flinches. He doesn’t think that’s a fair thing to say. “You’re angry.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then come to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I’m not that kind of tired.”

Azriel kneels. Reaches for your hand. You pull away.

“You keep doing this,” you say. “Throwing yourself into these dangerous missions, acting like it’s no big deal.”

“It’s what I’m meant to do.”

“No. It’s what you’ve convinced yourself you’re only good for.”

He doesn’t speak. Just looks at you like he’s hearing it for the first time.

“Love’s not enough if you don’t want to stay alive for it. What's the point of staying for a ghost?”

Azriel apologizes. You send him on his way and, for the first time in months, he lays awake in his own bed. Alone.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

There’s a lull. You try. You both do. He brings you dinner. You sit on his lap and kiss his cheek and he murmurs that he loves you before making love to you like you’re something holy, something divine, and he’s desperate for salvation.

But he’s always leaving. And you’re always waiting. Azriel knows it can’t last. Waiting is not in your nature. Not really. You’ve been inching toward the door for weeks. He’s been pretending not to notice. Pretending not to feel it.

Until one day, you sit across from each other, knees barely touching. And neither of you has the energy to lie about it anymore.

You say, “This isn’t working.”

He nods. There are tears in your eyes and he’s not sure if he’s allowed to wipe them when they fall.

Azriel says, “But I love you.”

“I know,” you say. “I love you too.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because love wasn’t enough. Because it was love. So much love. And still—

He thought heartbreak would be louder. More cinematic. Shouting or slamming doors. But it’s this: A quiet room. Your knees touching. And the terrible understanding that you both meant it—all of it.

Azriel doesn’t cry.

He just sits there, blinking. Wondering why his chest feels cracked open and hollow and free, all at once. How grief and relief can sit beside each other like old friends.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s Saturday evening when Azriel sees you again.

It’s been weeks since that night.

He’s walking beside his family—shoulder to shoulder with Cassian, wings stretched and taking up space as they pass through the River District. The sky is a perfect, boundless blue. His shadows drift lazily in the sunlight.

He’s already smiling. It's a family dinner night. They’re having his favorite —Nyx’s favorite now, too. The boy has begged to help make it, and Azriel is going to let him, even if half the sauce will end up on the floor. Az is excited for his hands to smell like basil and roasted garlic for the rest of the night.

Then his shadows stir—not with warning, but recognition.

Azriel glances across the street.

You’re standing there, sleeves rolled up, half-hidden behind stacked moving boxes. There’s a smudge of something on your cheek. You laugh at something someone says, head thrown back in that way he used to love. Still does, maybe. A little.

Your eyes lift and meet his. A quiet ache settles in Azriel’s chest. Not the sharp kind it used to be. Not grief that grips the ribs or hollows him out. Just something soft. Lingering.

For one suspended second, he sees you as you are — happy. Free. You smile at him, and he breathes through it. He smiles back.

Cassian calls his name. Azriel turns, says something back, distracted. And when he glances over again, you’re gone. Just like the first time.

He never sees you again.

Eventually, he stops searching for your face in crowded streets.

But sometimes—when the air is quiet and the night feels like a memory—he lets himself think of you. Wonders where you are. If you found a place to settle. If you're happy.

He hopes you are. And he hopes he never hears about it.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: it feels diff when i write in present v past tense. like past tense is my usual writings, fun little stories with fun lil plots. present tense always makes me sad and nostalgic, strangely enough

i'm a bit scatter-brained rn bc of some family issues, but yall best believe ill post all my random wips soon!!

permanent tag list 🫶🏻

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon @glam-targaryen

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @yesiamthatwierd @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@feyretopia @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna

@anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls @louisa-harrier

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction

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lazy-ahh · 3 months ago

Note

Lazy-ahh, first, your brain his huge and wrinkly for all the writing you’ve shared with us! You’re easily one of my fav Invincible writers! 🛐🛐🛐 Second, bless you for giving us more male reader in this desolate fandom 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Third, I had a request I’ve been thinking about and having a tough time deciding which Mark I wanted. I HC that Viltrumites can purr! Can we get something about male reader witnessing main Mark purr for the first time because of him? And reader’s completely weak for how cute it is. 🥺

THE SOUNDS HE MAKES (ARE ONLY FOR YOU)

pairing mark grayson x male reader

mark grayson purrs. it’s a secret only you know—something between a biological quirk and a love language, vibrating against your skin every time you touch him just right. and god, do you love finding new ways to draw it out of him.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro

you never expected to fall for someone like mark grayson. loud, optimistic, annoyingly persistent—everything you usually couldn’t stand. the first time you met him, he was all wide-eyed enthusiasm, rambling about superheroes like it was the most important thing in the world. you’d scoffed, called him an idiot under your breath, but he just grinned like you’d handed him a damn trophy. it pissed you off. or at least, that’s what you thought you felt.

but then he kept showing up—in the hallways at school, at the shitty diner you worked at, even outside your apartment like some lost puppy. and no matter how much you snapped at him, he never left. just stood there, smiling like you weren’t being a complete asshole, until one day, you realized you were looking for him too.

now, a year deep into dating the idiot, and somehow, you hadn’t strangled him yet. (though not for lack of trying.)

it was a lazy afternoon, the two of you sprawled across his bed, your head resting on his chest as he rambled about some comic book shit. you weren’t really listening, more focused on the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. you traced idle patterns along his ribs, just to feel him shiver, and smirked when his voice hitched mid-sentence.

"you’re not even paying attention, are you?" mark huffed, but there was no real annoyance in it.

"nope," you admitted, dragging your nails lightly down his side just to watch him squirm.

he laughed, breathless, and caught your wrist—not to stop you, just to lace his fingers through yours. "you’re such a dick."

"you love it," you muttered, half expecting him to roll his eyes or shove you off like anyone else would. but mark just squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that made your chest tighten.

"yeah," he said, soft and stupidly sincere. "i do."

your pulse jumped. you weren’t used to this—being wanted, being loved, especially not by someone who looked at you like you hung the damn stars. it made you feel exposed, raw in a way that should’ve sent you running. but then mark smiled, all crooked and fond, and you couldn’t help but curl closer, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide the way your own lips betrayed you.

that’s when you felt it—a low, rumbling vibration against your ear, so deep you almost missed it.

you stiffened. "the hell was that?"

mark blinked down at you, confused. "what was what?"

"that—that noise. did you just—" you cut yourself off as it happened again, the sound unmistakable this time. a deep, content purr, resonating from his chest.

your eyes narrowed, fingers stilling against his ribs as you lifted your head just enough to glare at him. the sound was unmistakable now—a deep, rhythmic hum vibrating through his chest, warm and alive under your cheek. it shouldn’t have been possible, but then again, neither was half the shit mark could do.

"are you fucking purring?" you demanded, voice rough with disbelief.

mark’s face flushed instantly, his stupidly long lashes fluttering as he avoided your gaze. "i—uh. maybe?" his voice cracked, and the purr stuttered for a second before doubling in intensity, like his traitorous body was daring you to tease him.

your chest did something embarrassing—tightening, then melting all at once. it was disgustingly cute. like finding out a wolf could wag its tail. here was this idiot who could level buildings with his fists, who talked shit in the middle of fights like it was a damn comedy routine, and he was purring because of you. because you’d scratched his scalp like some kind of overgrown housecat.

you should've mocked him. should've rolled your eyes so hard they'd get stuck, called him a pathetic excuse for an alien warrior—but your traitorous fingers were already moving, sliding through those soft dark curls like they had a mind of their own. your nails scraped gently against his scalp, barely there but enough to make his breath catch, and god help you, you needed to hear that deep, rumbling purr again like you needed your next breath.

"maybe?" you deadpanned, propping yourself up on one elbow to give him your best unimpressed glare, even as your free hand stayed tangled in his hair like you were afraid he'd float away. the way his pupils dilated when you tugged just slightly made your stomach do stupid flips. "since when do you purr? you some kinda fucked up space cat?"

he groaned like you were personally torturing him, covering his face with those big hands that could crush steel but always touched you like you were made of glass. "since always, okay?" his voice came out muffled, embarrassed. "it's a viltrumite thing. i can't help it when i'm—" he cut himself off abruptly, but the tips of his ears burned crimson.

your heartbeat kicked up at what he wasn't saying. when he was what? happy? content? completely fucking gone for you? you stared at him for a long moment, memorizing the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard, the faint tremor in his fingers where they covered his flushed face. then, because you were weak and he was yours, you flopped back down onto his chest with enough force to knock the air out of a normal person, pressing your ear firmly against the warm skin over his heart. you needed that sound like a drowning man needed air.

mark yelped, his whole body tensing beneath you. "what're you—?"

"shut up," you muttered, listening intently for that telltale vibration. the purring had stopped, and that just wouldn't do. your fingers trailed down his side, tracing the defined muscles there with deliberate slowness, lips pursing in poorly concealed anticipation when he squirmed under your touch. "do it again." your voice came out rougher than you intended, almost pleading, and fuck if that didn't make your face heat up. but you'd burn the world down to hear that sound again, to know you were the one who drew it out of him.

"i'm not a damn cat," he grumbled, voice already going thick and syrupy as your fingers found their way back to his hair. the protest died in his throat the moment your nails scraped gently along his scalp, that deep vibration starting up again—quieter this time, like a distant thunderstorm rolling in, hesitant like he was afraid you'd pull away.

something in your chest cracked open like dawn breaking. it was stupid. ridiculous, even. but god, it was cute in a way that made your ribs ache—this invincible boy who could punch through mountains melting under your touch, reduced to nothing but warm skin and rumbling contentment. the sound wrapped around you like sunlight through curtains, golden and impossible to ignore.

"huh," you said, voice softer than you'd ever admit, the word barely more than an exhale against his collarbone. "didn't know you could do that." didn't know you trusted me enough to let me hear it, you didn't add.

mark peeked down at you through his lashes, still pink-faced like a sunrise. "you're not gonna make fun of me?" he asked, but the way he leaned into your touch betrayed how much he already knew the answer.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes with all the theatricality you could muster. "oh, i'm gonna make fun of you forever." but your traitorous fingers kept moving through his curls, slow and reverent, and the purr grew louder, vibrating through you like a live wire, like the hum of power lines after a storm, like something alive and electric settling deep in your bones.

you hated how much you loved it. hated how your stupid heart turned traitor, flipping like a dying fish in your chest, how your blood sang in your veins like it had finally remembered what happiness tasted like. so of course you buried your face in the warm expanse of his chest, hiding the way your lips curved into a smile too tender for either of you to acknowledge, pressing closer until you could feel that purr in your teeth, in your soul, in all the broken places you'd never admit existed.

"freak," you mumbled into his skin, but there was no bite to it—just honey-thick fondness dripping from every syllable, so obvious even you couldn't pretend otherwise. your fingers tightened in his hair just to hear that purr stutter, just to feel him shiver against you, and fuck if that didn't make your chest burn brighter than any sun.

mark's laugh vibrated through you before you even heard it, that stupid, sunshine-bright sound that always made your chest feel too tight. his arms wrapped around you like living seatbelts, pulling until every inch of you was pressed against him—your nose buried in the crook of his neck, your knees slotting between his like puzzle pieces finally clicking together. when you tilted your head up to glare halfheartedly, his expression did something devastating; his eyes crinkled at the corners, his stupidly soft lips curving into a smile so warm it could've powered a small city. he looked at you like you'd hung the damn moon, like you were christmas morning and the last slice of pizza and every good thing rolled into one.

"yeah, yeah," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead that made your traitorous heart stutter. his purr kicked up another notch, thrumming through your ribcage until you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat matching its rhythm. "love you too, asshole."

and if you stayed like that for hours—mark's fingers tracing idle patterns along your spine, your hands fisted in the back of his shirt like you were afraid he'd disappear, his purr a constant, comforting rumble beneath your ear—well. no one had to know how easily he turned you into putty in his hands.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

it became your best-kept obsession—cataloging every way to coax those rumbling purrs from mark's chest. the sharp intake of breath when your fingers found that spot just behind his ear, the way his lashes would tremble against his flushed cheeks when you scratched lightly down the nape of his neck. you'd discovered he was embarrassingly responsive to the smallest affections—your lips brushing his temple, your palm resting warm against the small of his back, even just breathing his name into the space between his shoulder blades in that private tone you never used with anyone else. each time, your ribs would ache with something too big to name, this glowing, golden feeling like you'd struck treasure no one else knew existed. and mark? he'd go pliant against you every single time, his purrs thrumming through your skin like a second heartbeat, his entire body thrumming with quiet joy just because it was you.

tonight, you waited until he was half-asleep against you, his head heavy on your chest as some old movie played forgotten in the background. you started slow—fingertips tracing meaningless patterns along his shoulder, feeling the way his breathing deepened. then, with deliberate care, you carded your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you knew drove him crazy.

mark made this soft, punched-out noise against your collarbone, his body going lax against yours. "mmph...cheater," he mumbled, but he was already nuzzling closer, his arms tightening around your waist.

"shhh," you murmured, smiling against the crown of his head as that familiar rumble started up, quiet at first then growing stronger as you kept petting him. his purrs reverberated through your chest, syncing up with your heartbeat in a way that made something tender and aching swell in your throat.

"feels good?" you asked, already knowing the answer from the way he'd practically turned to putty in your arms.

mark tilted his head up just enough to press a sleepy kiss to your jaw, his lips warm and slightly chapped from where he’d been biting them earlier. “cause it’s you,” he slurred, voice thick with drowsy affection, like those three words held the entire universe inside them. and maybe they did—because with every purr, every content sigh, he was telling you without words what you already knew: he was yours, completely and utterly, in every way that mattered.

you couldn’t help it—your fingers tightened in his hair, tilting his face up to yours, and then your mouth was on his, slow and deep and burning. mark made a muffled sound against your lips, half-surprise, half-pleasure, before melting into the kiss like he’d been waiting for it all night. his purr kicked up instantly, vibrating against your chest as his hands slid under your shirt, palms warm and rough against your skin.

the kiss turned messy fast—mark biting at your lower lip just hard enough to make you groan, your tongue sliding against his in a rhythm that had him arching into you. his purrs grew louder, more frantic, every drag of his fingers down your spine pulling another broken sound from your throat. you could feel the way his body trembled under your touch, the way his breath hitched when you nipped at his collarbone, his hips jerking against yours in a silent plea for more.

"fuck," he gasped when you finally pulled back for air, his pupils blown wide, lips kiss-swollen and glistening. his purr was a constant, needy rumble now, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear. "you—you can’t just—"

you cut him off with another searing kiss, swallowing his whimper, your teeth scraping over his pulse point just to hear him fall apart all over again. his breath hitches, sharp and wet against your lips, his fingers twisting desperately in your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. you don’t let up—your tongue swipes over the bite mark, soothing the sting just to draw another broken sound from him, and fuck, you could live off this, the way his body arches into yours like he’s trying to fuse your skeletons together.

his skin is fever-hot under your palms as you slide them down his sides, mapping every shuddering breath, every twitch of muscle. when your thumbs brush the sensitive dip of his hips, he makes this noise—half gasp, half sob—his back bowing off the mattress as his purr stutters into a ragged, staticky vibration. you can feel it, the way his control splinters under your touch, his usual confident swagger reduced to trembling thighs and fluttering lashes. you still can't fucking believe you didn't notice such an important thing about mark earlier. he must have used all his strength to suppress the sounds he made to hide this from you for so long. no more hiding, you say.

"look at you," you murmur against his jaw, your voice gravel-rough with want. your fingers trail up his stomach, tracing the outline of each defined muscle like you’re memorizing him for the apocalypse. "all this just ‘cause i touch you?"

mark’s cheeks flush darker, his lips parted around uneven breaths. he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck, but you catch his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. his pupils are blown wide, his irises barely visible rings of brown, and his expression is so ruined it makes your chest ache.

"s’not fair," he whines, his voice cracking as your hand skates lower, fingertips teasing the waistband of his sweats. his hips jerk up instinctively, chasing friction, but you hold him down with your free arm, pinning him with your weight. the way he goes pliant under you, his body surrendering before his pride does, sends a vicious thrill down your spine.

"tell me," you demand, nipping at his earlobe. "tell me who does this to you."

his breath comes in ragged, stuttering gasps—each one hotter than the last against your lips, trembling like the rest of him as he arches into your touch. his fingers scramble at your shoulders, blunt nails digging crescent moons into your skin, clinging like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. when your palm grinds down firm between his legs, he breaks for you, his purr shattering into a high, desperate whine that punches straight through your ribcage. "you," he chokes out, voice wrecked already, thighs shaking where they bracket yours. "only you, fuck—please—"

and god, you’ll never get tired of this—of how the great invincible mark grayson comes completely undone beneath you, reduced to a trembling, pleading mess with nothing but your hands and your name falling like a prayer from his kiss-swollen lips. you swallow his next broken sound with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, licking into him slow and deep, savoring the way his breath hitches when you curl your fingers just so. his hips jerk up against your palm, chasing the friction, and the noise he makes—a punched-out, trembling moan—goes straight to your gut, white-hot and possessive.

you worship him like this: with your teeth dragging along his pulse point just to feel his purr stutter, with your free hand sliding up his chest to thumb over a peaked nipple, reveling in the way his back bows off the bed. "look at you," you murmur against his jaw, voice rough with awe. "so fucking perfect for me." his answering whimper is devastating—a broken, punched-out sound that vibrates against your throat where his face is buried.

his entire body flushes darker, that sun-kissed skin blooming a heated red from his collarbones all the way up to the tips of his ears, like you’ve lit him up from the inside. when you finally wrap your fingers around him, his hips jerk up into your grip, desperate and uncoordinated, his cock hot and heavy against your palm, the velvety skin stretched taut over thick veins. you stroke him slow and firm, twisting your wrist just the way you know he likes on the upstroke, and the wetness beading at his head smears slick over your fingers, making every drag smoother, messier. his breath comes in ragged gasps against your shoulder, his blunt nails digging half-moons into your biceps as he tries to ground himself, his thighs trembling where they bracket yours. the precome leaks steadily now, sticky and warm, and you can feel the way his stomach muscles clench under your free hand when you swipe your thumb over the swollen head, spreading the wetness in slow circles just to hear him sob your name.

"f-fuck—" mark’s fingers knot in your hair, tugging sharp enough to make your scalp sting, his hips jerking up into your grip like he’s trying to fuck into the tight heat of your fist. his purr is shattered now—glitching in his throat, a staticky, uneven thrum that breaks every time his breath hitches. you can feel the vibrations where your mouth is latched onto his nipple, your tongue swirling rough over the stiff peak before you bite down just to hear him wail, his back bowing off the sheets.

his chest heaves under your palm, sweat-slick and burning hot, every muscle in his abdomen fluttering as he teeters on the edge. you don’t let up—sucking another bruise into the delicate skin under his collarbone, licking a stripe up his throat to swallow the desperate, punched-out noises he’s making. his pulse rabbits against your lips, wild and frantic, and when you scrape your teeth over it, he sobs, his cock twitching violently in your grip.

“gonna—fuck, please—” his voice cracks, raw and wrecked, his thighs trembling where they cage your hips. you can taste the salt on his skin where your tongue drags over his nipple again, can feel the way his stomach tenses under your palm like he’s trying to hold back. his lashes are wet, his lips swollen from biting them, and when you press your forehead to his, his breath fans hot and uneven over your mouth.

your fingers tighten just enough to make him whimper, the slick twist of your wrist deliberate, perfect, and mark breaks. his back arches off the sheets, a choked, ragged cry tearing from his throat as he spills hot over your knuckles, his purr stuttering into a gasp so shattered it hurts to hear. you don’t let go—not when his hips jerk helplessly, not when his thighs clamp around your hand like he’s trying to keep you there forever, not even when his entire body locks up before collapsing, spent and trembling, into the mattress.

you kiss him through it, soft and reverent, swallowing every broken noise he makes—the hitched whines, the shuddering exhales, the way his lips move against yours like he’s still trying to say your name. his skin is fever-hot under your palms, his chest heaving as you stroke his hipbone with your clean hand, soothing now, gentling him through the aftershocks that still wrack his frame.

and god, you’re aching, your own hard-on straining against your boxers, but you barely notice—too busy memorizing the way mark’s wet lashes stick to his flushed cheeks, the way his pulse stutters under your lips when you press them to his throat, the way his fingers clutch weakly at your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. you won’t. you can’t. not when he looks like this—wrecked and beautiful and yours, his usual boundless energy reduced to this boneless, panting mess beneath you.

"look at you," you murmur, thumb brushing the tear clinging to his lash line. your voice is rougher than you mean it to be, thick with something too close to worship. "took it so fucking well, baby."

mark makes this soft, punched-out noise—half protest, half plea—as his body goes lax beneath you, but his purr stutters back to life anyway, faint at first like a dying engine trying to turn over. then it grows, uneven but persistent, vibrating through your sternum where your chest presses flush against his. you can feel it in your teeth, in the hollow of your throat, this quiet, physical proof of his contentment radiating through you like sunlight through closed eyelids.

when he finally slumps back into the sheets, his muscles melting into liquid warmth beneath your hands, his purr shifts into something deeper—smoother, like honey poured over gravel. it thrums against your skin as he nuzzles clumsily into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing your pulse point in a drowsy, open-mouthed kiss. "love you," he slurs, the words thick and syrupy with exhaustion, his arms looping around your waist to drag you down atop him with surprising strength for someone who just came apart under your touch.

and fuck, if that doesn’t hit you like a freight train—the way he clings to you even now, his fingers splaying possessively over the small of your back, his purr kicking up another notch when you settle between his thighs. his heartbeat thrums against yours, rapid but steadying, and you realize with a jolt that this—the weight of him under you, the salt-sweet taste of his skin where your lips press absentmindedly to his shoulder, the way his breath evens out against your temple—feels more like victory than anything else ever has.

3.9k words full of mark purring and reader being obsessed. honestly, if i were in reader's shoes i would've done the same thing- and sorry y'all i was in a freaky goofy mood when i wrote that second half LOLOL! thank you so much to the anon who requested this! literally screamed when i read this in my askbox, cause this is one of my guilty pleasures(?)/headcanons for mark LOL. also hell yeah male reader solidarity—we out here surviving the wasteland one soft mark grayson one-shot at a time 💀

#lazy-ahh #invincible #mark grayson #male reader #invincible x male reader #mark grayson x male reader #smut #GUHHHHH #PLEASE #PLEASEEEE #PLEASE MARK JUST ONE CHANCE #sorry y'all i was feeling real goofy when i wrote the second half #NEED THAT INVINCIDIH #are you sure?

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httpsdana · 4 months ago

Note

Hey love!

I was wondering if you could write something for Max Verstappen with a super soft, quiet little girlfriend? She’s a chunky little thing, all round and cute, with blonde hair, and she’s just very… pink. Everything about her is soft and feminine—her clothes, her nails, even the way she speaks. She’s also a little dumb (in the most adorable way possible), always getting confused about things, and Max just finds it endearing. Maybe some fluff where he’s super protective over her because people underestimate her a lot? Thank you so much!

Softer than Sakura~Max Verstappen

・❥・prompt list

・❥・motorsports masterlist

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: this HAS to be my fav fic EVER. I love max sm yall don't understand. pls don't let it flop 🙏🏻🙏🏻

She was the total opposite of Max. Opposites attract, they say. Max, the serious, sarcastic Formula One champion, dating her; the short, blonde girl whose whole life was pink and ribbons.

But Max found everything about her so endearing.

The way she got confused over the smallest things, the random questions she asked out of nowhere, and mostly, the way she managed to be the most adorable person when he asked her to go to her first Grand Prix with him: to Japan.

“Well, everything is pink, and it’s all flowers and stuff there. I think you'll like it,” he said softly, his smile unwavering when she jumped up and down before climbing on him.

“Oh my god, yes! I have the perfect outfit for race day. Should I do my nails too? When are we going? Do I have time to pack?” she rambled, unable to hide her excitement, and also nervousness.

Max chuckled, putting his finger on her lips to stop her from talking.

“Don’t worry, schatje. I already booked your nail appointment. We’re leaving Tuesday morning, so you have plenty of time to pack,” he mumbled before brushing his lips over hers.

Max took his headphones off as his engineer finished telling him the new updates on the car. His eyes scanned the garage slowly until they found her.

She stood by the corner, carefully reading the schedule on the paper that was on the wall. The pink ribbon sat perfectly in her blonde hair, while her hands clutched her small bag tightly.

He smiled softly before quietly making his way to her. He sneaked his hands around her waist gently, which made her flinch for a second before relaxing in his arms.

“Maxie,” she mumbled, her eyes still fixed on the paper, her head tilting in confusion.

“Hey, baby,” his fingers brushed against her pink dress as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m confused,” she stated, turning to look up at him. “The schedule says you have media duty from ten till twelve. It’s eleven-thirty now. Are you breaking the rules?” she gasped softly, her voice lowering as if afraid someone might hear her.

Max chuckled, his heart melting at the pure confusion in her expression.

“No, darling. I finished early and had some stuff with the engineers,” he said, making her lips part as realization dawned on her.

“Let’s get you seated in the garage before qualifying,” he gently tugged her hand as he took her to the back of the garage where families and guests usually sat. He helped her up on the stool before handing her one of the big blue headphones.

“For me?” she asked, confused, making him hum.

“It can get loud, so you’ll need it,” he placed it on her neck before brushing her hair away from her face to admire her soft makeup that she always did—the one he always adored.

“But it doesn’t match my outfit,” she frowned, making him laugh with a shake of his head.

“Sweetheart, the sounds are pretty loud. You need it,” he insisted, making her frown deepen even more. He smiled before leaning down to kiss her pout away.

As soon as his lips touched hers, she quickly gasped and pulled away.

“Someone could see us,” she whispered, making him pout.

“Just one?” he asked, leaning in again. He kissed her softly, and she couldn't help but kiss him back.

When he pulled back, he hummed in satisfaction. She opened her eyes and giggled at the sight of him.

“What?” he asked, an amused smile on his lips.

“You’ve got some lip gloss on your lips,” she murmured, reaching over to wipe it off with her thumb.

“Do I look pretty?” he teased while she hummed.

“You always look pretty,” she whispered shyly, making him smile.

“Only because I have you by my side.”

“Hey, where's my girlfriend?” Max asked one of the mechanics, who he saw a while ago talking to her.

“They told her to go to your driver's room after quali. She was asking way too many questions,” he chuckled, expecting Max to laugh with him, except he didn’t. Max scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? So what? This is her first race and she's still new to everything here,” he said defensively, eyes narrowing as the mechanic started squirming nervously under his intense gaze.

“I-I didn’t mean-” Max interrupted by rolling his eyes.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, already walking away to his room.

He opened the door gently, peeking his head into the room slowly. He saw her sitting there, his plushie, which she had bought him, tucked under her chin while she scrolled through her phone silently.

“Hey baby,” he said softly, afraid to scare her away.

“Hi Maxie,” she mumbled, her voice a bit down and softer than usual, the usual bubbly and excited tone not evident.

His face twisted in anger, knowing that she was upset by something someone had told her.

“What did they say?” he asked calmly, but his fists clenched by his sides as he walked closer to her.

“Mhm, who?” she avoided looking into his eyes, still scrolling on her phone.

Max took the phone gently out of her hand to have her look at him. Her eyes were dull, the usual light in them faded out.

“What did they say?” he asked again, this time more gently.

“Nothing… they just said that I should come here because they can’t stand someone asking so many stupid questions,” she shrugged, but her teary eyes showed how much she was affected.

“Oh darling,” he murmured, pulling her into a hug as he sat next to her. He tucked her head under his chin, securing it by holding the back of her head. His other hand soothed her back, mumbling sweet nothings into her ear to help her calm down.

After a while, her body relaxed more and she let out a sigh into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her arms tightening around his torso.

“Don’t be, schatje. They’re assholes who don’t deserve to listen to anything you say. If you have anything to ask, I’ll gladly answer you, even if it was the silliest question,” he said, pulling her head back to look at her.

“I love you,” he held her gaze, his fingers threading through her blonde strands as he spoke.

“I love you more, Maxie,” she said, her smile finally finding its way back to her face.

He held her more in his arms, watching some TikToks with her on her phone, ignoring the fact that he had already skipped two interviews.

She pulled away then, making him look at her, confused.

“So... what does DRS mean?” she asked sheepishly, making him chuckle.

“I’ll tell you everything. Just let me hold you some more, sweetheart.”

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

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inseobts · 4 months ago

Text

Fool

law x reader

you meet your former captain again after months, after having walked away from that unrequited feeling, not knowing that, in reality, he loved you too (part 1 - if only she knew but you can read and enjoy this even without reading the other one)

inspired by the song: fool by winner

a/n: uhm idk if this sucks but I did it based on my fav group's music so be nice eheh (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡ also I firstly made it about zoro but then I got reminded of an old request (if only she knew) so I turned it into a sequel for law.

words count: 3.5k

tags: angst, argument, regrets from law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The crowded port buzzes with life, laughter, and the scent of grilled seafood wafting through the air. You weren’t expecting to run into them, into him. But fate, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

The Heart Pirates.

You spot them before they see you, their familiar ship docked near the edge of the harbor. For a second, you consider turning around, walking away before anyone notices. But then a loud, familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Hey—! No way! It's you!" Penguin’s excited shout freezes you in place, and in an instant, all eyes are on you. The crew’s expressions shift from shock to joy, and before you know it, you’re being pulled into warm greetings, pats on the back, and teasing complaints about how long it’s been.

But one pair of eyes lingers on you longer than the rest. Law stands at the back, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. But there’s something there, a flicker of something in his golden gaze that you can’t quite place.

The tension is broken when Shachi grins "You gotta eat with us today! Just like old times. No excuses."

You hesitate, but your stomach betrays you, growling at the thought of a warm meal. And the truth is… you missed them. More than you’d like to admit.

"Fine," you sigh, rolling your eyes "But you’re paying."

The crew erupts in cheers, dragging you toward their ship, the warmth of old friendships making it impossible to say no.

Dinner is chaotic, loud, and full of laughter. The crew fills the space with stories of their latest misadventures, and for a while, it feels like nothing has changed. But beneath it all, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the space between you and him.

As the plates pile up and the drinks flow, the crew starts throwing casual questions your way.

“So, how have you been?” Bepo asks, his voice gentle, though his eyes are searching.

Shachi leans in with a knowing smirk “Yeah, how’s life been treating you?”

Their words are light, playful even, but you can hear the unspoken question beneath them. They all know. They knew before you left. They had seen the way you looked at your captain, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

And they had seen the way he looked at you leaving, even if he never admitted it.

The room may be full of laughter, but there’s an undercurrent of tension, one that only grows when Law remains silent, nursing his drink and watching you from across the table.

Penguin nudges your arm, his grin teasing but his eyes soft “Bet you haven’t found anyone to boss you around like a certain captain of ours.”

You roll your eyes, playing along “Like I’d go looking for that.”

The table erupts in laughter, but there’s a knowing look exchanged between them all. They’re testing the waters, trying to see if your heart still beats for him, but careful not to push too far. And as much as you try to brush off their words, you know the answer. It never stopped.

From the other side of the table, Law exhales sharply, setting down his drink with just a little too much force.

The crew exchanges glances. They’ve been waiting for this. They had hoped that bringing you back, even if just for one night, would finally push the two of you to talk. But as they watch the tension build, they realize they can’t force this. Whatever needs to happen between you and Law can only happen if you’re alone.

Then something happens, maybe an accident, a spilled drink, or just the natural (or so they act like) shifting of the group, but suddenly, you and Law are alone. The noise of the crew fades into the background, leaving only the two of you there.

The setting sun paints the sky in shades of gold and pink as you stand outside the tavern, staring out at the ocean. The breeze tugs at your hair, but you don’t feel it. Your thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in the mess that the crew just made to leave you two alone.

And then Law.

He’s the only thing on your mind right now. He’s the reason your heart feels like it’s being torn in two for months, or even years at this point. You missed him like hell, but the words he said to you, before you left, will never leave your mind…

“Get lost from my sight.”

They echo in your ears, stinging with every memory of just one the moments he made you feel unwanted. He has always been distant, and you always tried to reach out. You tried so hard. But that night, everything in you snapped. You got tired of his anger, his harsh words, they cut deeper than anything you expected.

You turn away, unable to face him again. The tears threaten to spill at the memories, but you fight them back. His words hurt, but it’s more than that. It’s the feeling that something between you is broken now, something that can’t easily be fixed.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there, close but not close enough. You can feel the space between you, thick with unspoken words and regret. Your back remains turned to him, but you don’t have to look to know he’s still standing there, his presence heavy in the air.

Finally, his voice breaks through the silence. It’s softer than you ever remembered, because now there’s something else... regret. You can hear it, and it twists something in your chest.

“Get lost from my sight.”

You don’t turn around. His words still feel like a slap in the face, even though the venom has faded from them. Law’s not speaking to you now. He’s speaking the truth of what he felt in the moment, the words he had let slip too many times in his anger.

“Those cruel words… I spat out without hesitation.” His voice trembles, a small crack breaking through his usual composure “Anyone can see… I was a fool.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but you don’t say anything. What’s there to say? He’s the one who pushed you away, and now, here he is, broken, admitting to it.

You take a deep breath, your throat tight, as you finally turn to face him. His gaze is on the floor, his fists clenched, but you can see the regret in his eyes. It’s raw. It’s real.

“Even if I’m sorry now, nothing changes. I know.” His voice is quieter now, the weight of what he’s said settling between you both “Nothing changes...” he repeats, more to himself than to you, as if trying to accept it.

Law steps closer, and you don’t move. You’re not sure if you want him to come closer. He’s the one who pushed you away, and yet, here he is, still reaching for you in his own way. His voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s okay to swear at me, even that’s not good enough. I just wanna hear your voice. I just wanna hear you talk to me...” His words feel fragile, like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you can feel his desperation in every syllable.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can you say after everything that’s happened?

“Fool, stupid. I now know it’s all my fault.” His voice cracks as he says it, the self-loathing dripping through every word “Dummy, idiot. I now know it’s all my fault.” He shakes his head, the weight of his mistakes crushing him “I pushed you away.”

You stand still, watching him, not knowing what to do. He’s broken, you can see that, but can you forgive him so easily? He hurt you so badly that part of you doesn’t know if you’re ready to let him back in.

Law takes another step toward you, this time closer than before, and you instinctively take a small step back. He notices but doesn’t say anything. He seems unsure of everything now.

“I said I was selfish. Only knew myself. I think I’m crazy.” His voice is barely above a whisper, the regret so deep it almost hurts to hear “It’s me who pushed you away.”

The words hit you like a punch. You know he’s not lying. He has been selfish. He’s pushed you away. But hearing him admit it… you want to believe that it’s enough, that his regret is real.

But still, you stay quiet, unsure of how to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He steps even closer now, his eyes searching yours, like he’s begging you to say something, anything.

“I was a fool” His voice falters, and his gaze drops to the ground as he shakes his head “Even if I regret it now, nothing changes, and I know it.”

There it is again, the finality in his voice. He knows the damage is done. He knows you might never look at him the same way again. And that hurts. More than anything.

You feel your heart aching, but you don’t know what to do with it. His regret is clear, but is it enough? Is it enough to fix what he’s broken?

Law reaches out, but stops just short of touching you. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, and then he lets it fall, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t care if it’s just a short moment. I'm glad I could see you once more… For the last time.”

His voice cracks, and you can feel the desperation in him. He wants something from you, but what? Forgiveness? Understanding?

“You used to dazzle, and now you’re far away. Going through the scattered memories, I long for you every day.” His words are soft now, almost pleading.

You take a shaky breath. His voice, his confession, it all makes you ache, but you still don’t know what to say. You want to reach out, to tell him that it’s okay, that you forgive him. But you’re not sure if you can just let it go that easily. The hurt is still there.

“Yes, I know I’m late. But please... I wish you could just come back as if nothing happened.” He speaks the words as if he’s begging the universe itself to let you come back to him. But you don’t know if you can.

You turn away, not because you want to, but because you don’t know how to respond. His words, his pain, they echo in your mind, but you’re not ready. Not yet.

The silence between you both is deafening. Law stands just a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face still full of regret and confusion. He doesn’t know what else to say. You can see it in his eyes he’s waiting for something, anything from you. His gaze flickers over your face, searching for a sign that you’ll let him in again.

But you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re not sure if you can.

The world around you feels distant, like everything is happening in a dream, and you’re not sure if you want to wake up.

Law shifts his weight, taking another small step forward. You hear him inhale deeply, the weight of his next words heavy in the air.

“I know I’m late,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to cut through the silence “I know I messed up, and it’s my fault. I was selfish. I only thought about myself. And now… now look at what I’ve done.”

His words are raw, stripped of all his usual bravado. This is the Law you’ve never seen before, vulnerable, lost, and so deeply ashamed.

You feel your chest tighten as his words settle into your bones. The storm inside you rages on. You’re angry. You’re hurt. But you’re also confused. You want to hate him. You want to shout, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But every time you look at him, every time you hear the sincerity in his voice, it feels like something in you starts to crumble.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean the things I said. I… I was stupid. I didn’t think.” his voice cracks, and you can hear the frustration in his tone “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me being so… so careless.”

You stay silent. You can feel the anger rising in your chest, the hurt threatening to swallow you whole, but you can’t say it. Not yet. Not when he’s standing there, looking so torn apart.

Law takes another step closer, his voice trembling with the weight of his words.

“I know I was an idiot. A complete fool. I pushed you away, and now I’m the one who’s paying the price” He’s so close now you can almost feel the heat of his body, but the space between you both feels like a vast ocean. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the depth of his regret, the raw pain that he’s trying to hide “But I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being without you. I need to hear your voice. Please… just give me one more chance.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with all the force of the emotions you’ve been trying to bury. The storm inside you threatens to explode, and for a moment, you can’t hold it back anymore.

You turn to face him fully, your heart hammering in your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his expression pleading, desperate.

“Fool, stupid,” you hear him mutter again, almost to himself “I now know it’s all my fault.” He’s repeating it like some sort of mantra, the guilt weighing him down with every word.

You want to scream at him. You want to throw your anger in his face and tell him how much he’s hurt you, how much you’ve been suffering because of him. But instead, your voice cracks as you finally speak.

“Law…” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to get his attention. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, hoping.

“I… I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that,” you say, your voice trembling “You hurt me. You pushed me away without thinking about how I felt. I gave you what you wanted before leaving for good. I gave you your space. All while I was hurting, thinking you hated me. And now you expect me to just forget it?”

Law flinches, the weight of your words hitting him harder than anything else. His face falls, guilt flashing across his features.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he says quietly, almost to himself “I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I needed to say it. I needed you to know that I was wrong. I’ve always been so focused on myself, on the crew, on work… but you were right there beside me, trying to help me and all I did was pushing you away because of my own pride.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through the tension like a knife. You can see it in his eyes now, the man you’ve known for so long, the captain who’s always carried himself with such confidence, now breaking down in front of you. He’s not just asking for your forgiveness. He’s asking for a chance.

You swallow hard, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You’re torn. Part of you wants to forgive him, to reach out and pull him into your arms and tell him it’s okay, that everything will be fine. But another part of you feels like that would be too easy. Too quick.

Law’s head drops, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His hands fidget at his sides, unable to find comfort in anything. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken.

“Please,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible “Just… just let me make it right.”

You stand there, torn between the feelings of anger, sadness, and the remnants of the love you’ve always had for him. His words are genuine, but is it enough? You don’t know. You don’t know if anything will be enough to undo the hurt he caused.

But as you look at him, really look at him, you see the pain in his eyes, and you feel the wall inside your heart start to crack.

You can’t undo the past. And maybe it’s too soon to forgive him fully. But you can’t let him keep carrying this weight by himself either.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing in your chest.

“I don’t know, Law,” you say quietly “I’m not just going to pretend nothing happen.”

Law nods slowly, his expression a mix of regret and relief. He doesn’t speak, but you can see the understanding in his eyes. This is far from over. The road to healing, to forgiveness, will be long and difficult. But for now, this is a start.

“I know,” he whispers, stepping back, giving you space “I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You nod at him, because maybe that’s enough for now.

The silence between you and Law is thick, heavy with everything that has been said and everything that hasn’t. His eyes are still on you, searching, waiting, but you don’t know if you’re ready to give him a proper answer. Not yet. The emotions swirling inside you are too much, too tangled to sort through in just one moment.

Then, just as you open your mouth to say something the sound of hurried footsteps echoes from the shadows. Before either of you can react, the crew bursts into the room, their faces alight with mischief and unrestrained grins.

“Ahh, finally!” Penguin announces, throwing his arms up dramatically “Took you two long enough.”

Your stomach drops “Wait, what—”

Bepo nods sagely “We were listening the whole time... sorry.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you glance at Law, who pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply “Of course you were...” His voice is flat, but you can hear the underlying exasperation.

Shachi waves a hand dismissively “C’mon, Captain, don’t act like you’re mad. We did you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor” Law grumbles, crossing his arms.

The crew doesn’t care. Instead, they exchange knowing looks before turning their attention to you.

“So,” Ikkaku starts, leaning in with an eager expression, “does this mean you’re back?”

Your breath catches in your throat “I—”

“I mean, you missed us, right?” Shachi adds, wiggling his eyebrows “And you obviously missed our dear Captain here.”

You shoot him a glare, but the heat creeping up your face betrays you. Law, for his part, looks about two seconds away from kicking them all out, but the crew is relentless.

“Look,” Penguin says, his grin softening into something more genuine, “we just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Bepo nods again “You belong with us. With him.”

Your heart twists at their words, and you glance at Law, who’s watching you carefully. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, hope, uncertainty, a silent question only you can answer.

The room feels impossibly small with all eyes on you, but deep down, you already know what you want. You’ve known all along. This is your family. And Law… Law is the person who has always held your heart, no matter how much pain the journey brought you.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Law’s gaze and finally speak “If you’ll have me… I’d like to stay.”

For the first time that night, Law’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile “Idiot,” he mutters, but his voice is softer now, tinged with relief “You never had to ask.”

The crew erupts into cheers, celebrating your return like it’s the greatest victory of all. Shachi and Penguin slap Law on the back, while Bepo all but tackles you into a hug. The warmth of their acceptance, their excitement, is overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you needed.

Law doesn’t say anything else, the crew slaps his back more and he loses his balance and is now close enough that your shoulders brush.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. A faint blush dusts both your cheeks as you get lost in the quiet intensity of his gaze, drawn into each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

The noise in the room gradually dies down as the crew starts noticing, nudging and elbowing each other with smirks and wide grins. One by one, they fall silent, watching as you and Law remain caught in each other’s stare, completely oblivious to everything around you.

Then, just as the moment stretches unbearably long, Shachi clears his throat loudly “Oi, oi, are you two gonna keep making heart eyes at each other or what?”

The spell shatters instantly. You and Law both snap back to reality, faces burning, while the crew bursts into laughter and cheers once more.

Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you can’t stop the small, genuine smile that tugs at your lips. Because in this moment, with Law beside you and your family around you, everything feels right.

You’re home.

398 notes · View notes

kxsagi · 29 days ago

Note

HIII i love ur writing sm omg ur like one of my fav fanfic writers on here! i got a request and u dont have to do it if u dont wanna, its kinda long lol

so an isagi x gf reader where we come to watch his big game n he scores the winning goal and runs straight to us, hugging us in front of everyone. paparazzi swarms us asking if were together since our relationship isn’t public yet. isagi pulls us away and we run and hide in a storage room, where we share an intimate moment and kiss. afterwards, bachira and rin barge in, teasing us for disappearing

tried to keep this short, thank you so much! <3

“𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞”

a/n: hiiii thank you so much!!! 🤍🤍🤍

ac goes to the lovely beautiful talented amazing artistic creative fantastic amazing brilliant GOD HEAVEN SENT @p1anika

you didn’t think your heart could beat any faster than it was during the last five minutes of the match… until you saw isagi sprinting straight toward you.

the stadium had erupted. deafening roars. blue flags flying. the final whistle had blown, and isagi had scored the winning goal with a god-tier striker intuition that only he could’ve pulled off. but while everyone was busy chanting his name and throwing beer in the air, he only had eyes for one person in the crowd.

you.

he didn’t even hesitate. bolted toward the stands, straight past the team, the reporters, the staff, climbed the barrier like a man possessed.

“yoichi–?” you barely got his name out before he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you clean off the ground as your face buried into his shoulder.

“you came,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he held you tighter. “you really came.”

“of course i did, idiot,” you whispered, hands clinging to the back of his jersey.

it was supposed to be lowkey. you weren’t even in the VIP section, just a regular seat tucked away to avoid attention. your relationship wasn’t public yet, both of you careful and cautious. and yet, here he was, clutching you like he’d die if he let go, the entire stadium watching.

click. click. click.

camera flashes started going off like firecrackers. the paparazzi swarmed in seconds.

“isagi yoichi! is this your girlfriend?”

“are you two dating?”

“how long have you been together?”

“is this an official announcement?”

you blinked under the harsh lights, face flushed, lips parted, but isagi grabbed your hand before you could say a word, tugging you behind him.

“no comment,” he muttered, weaving through the growing mob. “back off.”

“yoichi–” you gasped, jogging to keep up as he led you through a tunnel, down a hallway, around a corner. he pushed open a random door and pulled you inside.

the door slammed shut behind you.

storage room. dim light. shelves with soccer balls, cones, and team towels. your breaths came fast. his did, too.

he looked at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real. like the adrenaline from the match hadn’t even begun to wear off.

“you were the only thing i could see,” he murmured, stepping closer. “when i scored. when the whole stadium went crazy. all i could think about was getting to you.”

you smiled up at him, chest rising and falling. “you really just exposed us in front of the entire world.”

“yeah,” he laughed softly. “i didn’t plan to, but… i couldn’t help it.”

you didn’t answer, just reached up and brushed a piece of his damp hair back from his forehead. the moment felt like a bubble – quiet, suspended, only yours. he leaned in.

the kiss was desperate. not sloppy, not rushed, just full of everything he couldn’t say on the field. your fingers curled around the collar of his jersey, and he kissed you like you were a victory sweeter than any match.

“yoichi,” you whispered against his lips. “you were amazing.”

he smiled against your mouth, resting his forehead against yours. “not as amazing as you showing up.”

and then–

bang!

“yo! you two lovebirds making out in the mop closet?” bachira’s voice rang through the door, followed by loud knocking. “you can’t hide forever!”

“we literally watched him ditch the team to sprint into your arms,” rin added, monotone. “what kind of rom-com bullshit…”

you groaned, hiding your face in isagi’s chest. “we’re never gonna hear the end of this.”

“you okay with that?” he asked, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

you looked up at him, cheeks burning. “yeah. i’m okay with that.”

and honestly? if this was how the world found out, with his arms around you and his teammates yelling outside the door, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #after the whistle

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nekomaniac · 3 months ago

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Can you please make a fic w dom!timeskip!kenma x sub!f!reader where reader is sick and kenma takes care of her blah blah blah she gets really needy and is shy ab it blah blah blah they get freaky thank you in advance😇🤞🏻 no pressure tho!

feverish ~ kenma

characters: soft dom! kenma x mildly sick! sub! f!reader content: (nsfw!!) fingering (f! receiving), slight cockwarming, 'good girl', little bit of sweet sex, little bit of rough sex, caring bf kenma, ken making you take your meds word count: 4k a/n: thanks for the request!! i hope it lives up to your expectations 🖤 kenma is definitely one of my favs i was so excited to get a request for him! (second divider cuts off nsfw!!)

⊱ ─────── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─────── ⊰

Kenma was used to being the sickly one in the relationship. He could be a bit delicate for lack of a better word. Any amount of overexertion would have him on bedrest the next few days. Of course, you were always there to dote on him lovingly, heating up soup and dabbing his forehead with a cool cloth.

Then, it finally happened… When he stepped back into the bedroom after his stream ended only to find you splayed out under the covers looking pitiful, he knew it was his time to return the favor.

Walking over to the edge of the bed he sat next to your curled up form. Taking note of your slightly disheveled appearance, he rubbed your back in slow soothing circles. Your brow was lightly creased and your cheeks a deep rosy hue. He could tell you weren’t feeling yourself, but damn if you weren’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen looking so helpless.

“Hey… are you feeling okay?” He asked softly, already knowing the answer. When all he got was a soft whine in response, he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. “Alright, alright, let me check your temperature…” He said quietly, moving to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen. He pulls out the brightly colored thermometer with a fond smile, remembering how you insisted on getting the yellow and orange duck themed one as it was priced the same and looked ‘much cuter’ than the clinical white and grey alternative.

“Open your mouth for me…” He taps the thermometer against your lips insistently. You part your lips lightly, letting him slide it inside. With a soft ‘beep’ he presses down the duck-shaped power button, watching as the number slowly rises. Gently brushing a slightly sweaty lock of hair from your eyes, his soft smile slowly fades into a look of concern as the display number climbs higher and higher before settling at a scorching 101.7°.

“Oh…” He murmurs, pulling out the thermometer to read the number again. Maybe you were a bit more sick than he thought. Without wasting another moment, he starts to prepare what you deem as the “sick cart”. A cool bowl of water and a washcloth to cool you off, a small variety of snacks that are easy on sensitive stomachs, and a variety of medicines. Typically it was you preparing the cart for him, telling him it allowed you to spend more time at his bedside instead of rushing back and forth looking for things.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he begins to pour out a dose of a medicinal, pungent red syrup. Your nose immediately crinkles as the familiar odor hits you. Even in your feverish haze, you knew what was coming. Letting out a weak mewl of protest, you try to flip away from him only for a gentle hand to halt your movements.

“Come on, don’t be stubborn. You need your medicine or you won’t get better.” The corners of his lips quirk into a small smile as he parrots your lines back to you, earning him a half-hearted scowl. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he tilts the medicine spoon towards your sulking face as you let out a soft resigned sigh. As you take it between your lips, he gently tilts your head back. The bitter taste immediately floods your senses, your nose scrunching and your eyes screwing shut. Kenma keeps a firm grip on your chin, making sure the spoon stays slotted firmly in your mouth and a steady stream of the sticky syrup dribbles onto your tongue.

“That’s it… such a good girl.” He praises softly, encouraging you to finish despite the obvious discomfort. When you finally drink the rest of it down he offers you a cup of juice to wash the repugnant flavor out of your mouth. You drink it down greedily, desperately trying to get rid of any remnants of the bitter medicine.

He pops open a small packet of rice crackers, gently bringing them to your lips. He feeds you the puffy snacks one by one, his heart melting at your soft bites and crunches. A part of him feels bad at finding your weakened state so adorable, but another part thrives on your sweet trust and reliance on him to help you feel better.

Your tongue darts out to lick at the residual flavor on his fingertips, causing his breath to hitch lightly. Reminding himself that you were just sick, he lets you gently nibble and suck at his fingertips. You peered up at him through glassy eyes as your tongue tangled around his coated fingertips, occasionally giving him a loving nip.

His own eyes were half lidded as he looked down at your vulnerable form. Tilting his head softly to the side to observe you, his soft bleached locks hung loosely over his face. With what little strength you had, you reached up and cupped his cheek. His fingers curled playfully in your mouth as you cradled his face in one of your clammy hands. He let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly.

“Ken…” You whine, reaching out weakly, your brows tented and lower lip slightly jutted out. No amount of mental preparation would ever make him able to resist when you got like this. So cute and sweet, it was the opposite of his naturally reserved and quiet self. He catches your hands gently, intertwining your fingers before pressing a loving kiss against your knuckles.

“Shhh… I’m here, sweet girl.” He carefully slides in bed behind you, letting you lay back against his chest. Reaching over to the cart, he dips the washcloth into the basin of cool water, dabbing gently at the sheen of sweat across your forehead before wiping down the back of your neck. “It’s not fair is it? Precious thing like you feeling so sick…” You let out a pitiful murmur in response to his gentle teasing, causing him to chuckle and pull you closer. He litters soft kisses at the crown of your head.

After settling you in, he picked up his Switch and started up his Pokemon Scarlet save file. Cradling you against his chest, he lets you watch as he wanders around the various towns and wild areas in the game, letting you choose which Pokemon he captures and adds to his team. In your feverish state the names you were picking were barely coherent, but he always listened to your suggestions, inputting them with a soft smile as he murmured soft ‘thank you’s’ into your hair.

Soon enough you were drifting off to sleep and he could finally sub out his new Dipplin you affectionately named “Abbles” and start grinding his old team. He rested his chin on your head as you slept, occasionally pausing his game to check your fever with the back of his hand. As the hours passed, the roaring red donned across your cheeks slowly began to fade to a softer pinky blush.

Once the beaming sunlight outside settled to a calming dusk, your eyes finally fluttered open again, this time with a bit more life in them. Before you could even fully stretch out or greet him, Kenma already had the ducky thermometer prodding at your lips again.

“Open.” He commanded gently, his voice sweet but firm. You obliged sleepily, half because you wanted to and half because you really needed to yawn. He placed the thermometer under your tongue, studying it closely as the numbers climbed. Eyes trained on the small display screen, he let out a pleased hum when the numbers stopped at 99.3°. “Your fever’s down, how are you feeling?”

“Still warm…” You mumble, half asleep. Nodding, he gently dabs the cool washcloth over your forehead and cheeks again. He gently squeezes it at the base of your neck, letting the cool water dribble down your feverish back, causing small relieved shudders to ricochet through your body. You let out a small relaxed sigh, nuzzling against his chest.

His frigid hands dipped beneath the hem of your shirt, roaming over your heated skin. The action was innocent enough, but it had you careening into his cool touch. Placing loving kisses onto the top of your head, he nuzzled his face into your hair as he gently massaged over your achy back.

⊱ ─────── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─────── ⊰

Soon, your mind began to wander. Thoughts began to fill your head of his chilled fingers dipping into more salacious places, below the fuzzy waistband of your comfy sleep shorts, plunging deep into your dripping core or simply dancing delicately over the swell of your breasts, plucking deftly at your pert nipples. Soon you felt your face warming again for reasons other than the lingering fever. A soft, shaky breath left your lips.

“Hm?” He peered down at the renewed flush on your face. “Hey…” He murmurs, concern evident in his soft voice, “You’re burning up again… Damned fever…” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, the soft, displeased noise unbeknownst to him adding kindling to the fire starting to burn deep in your core.

“K-Ken… I-” You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. “I need… nngh…” You bury your face into his neck, embarrassed at the sudden heat flooding between your thighs. He wasn’t doing anything provocative, what is wrong with you? Even just the caring tone in his voice is enough to have your toes curling with unspent desire.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He asks softly, his voice mellow and sweet. The soft vibration from his chest sends a shiver down your spine as you lean closer into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Summoning all of your strength, you scoot closer into him, barely ghosting your clothed heat down against his lap. He wraps his arms around you as he checks you over quietly, analytical eyes taking in every bit of you.

A subtle squeeze of your thighs has everything clicking into place. His feline eyes widen for a moment before he lets out a soft chuckle. A slender finger tilts your chin up to face the small knowing grin spreading across his face.

“You know you can’t hide from me…” He teases softly, his chilled finger gently tracing down your jawline, “Why do you get so shy?” He chuckles softly, fingers lightly pinching the fat of your cheek. You try to bury your face in his neck again, but his lips slotting against yours causes you to pause before melting into him. He cradles you to his chest as he slowly moves his lips against yours, setting a slow sensual pace.

You settle more firmly into his lap, wrapping your legs loosely around his narrow hips. His hands squeeze at your waist before trailing up your back to scoop you closer, pulling a shaky, surprised gasp from your lips. You suckle lightly at his lower lip, giving him teasing little nibbles. A soft groan is all of the warning you get before his tongue is sliding against yours, flicking gently at the soft insides of your cheeks.

Raising his knees, you slide further against him as he grinds his hips upward, pressing his hard length against your parted thighs. You let out a soft whimper that he promptly swallows, his kisses growing more fervent and demanding. Pulling back, you throw your head back as you rock your hips against his, growing more and more eager for his touch.

“Always such a needy little thing… Even when you’re sick and weak.” He smiles fondly as he holds your hips in place, effectively halting your desperate little movements.

“Kenma please, I can’t.” You pant pleadingly, fighting against his surprisingly strong grip to chase after his hips, “Really I can’t! I need-” He silences you with a firm hand cupping against the front of your shorts. You gasp softly, twitching your hips forward.

“When have you ever not gotten what you needed? Hm?” His golden eyes trace over your features slowly, “Don’t you trust me to take care of you, sweetheart?” He gently traces over where you need him most through your shorts. When you rut into his hand instead of answering he gives you a soft smack. “Answer me. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes! I trust you!” He slowly swirls his finger over your clit, causing your eyes to screw shut as you focus on the pleasure.

“Keep going.” He demands softly, rewarding you with more steady pressure to your twitching bud.

“You always take care of me…” You grind your clothed cunt against his hand, letting out soft pants and small whines. “Always make me feel good… so good…” Your thighs tremble lightly as you try to subtly seek more friction from his teasing fingers.

With a small smile, he gently lifts you up to slide your shorts down, flinging them off the bed haphazardly in favor of staring at his pretty girl. He traced the lacy trim of your panties with slow, delicate movements, taking time to savor the sight of you.

“So cute,” He muses, his voice dropping to a sweet purr as he toys with the growing wet patch. You let out a soft anticipatory sigh, knowing the less patient you are the more his teasing will be prolonged. Looking up at you with a knowing smile, he relents. His slender fingers dip beneath the dainty fabric, gently tracing your slit. You throw your head back with a light whine.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll take it easy on you since you don’t feel good.” He purrs softly, gently parting you to slip inside. His fingers disappear inside of you, curling and pumping with practiced ease. Sure Kenma could be a bit neglectful at times when he would get obsessed with a new game release, but if there was one thing that you could benefit from: that man was a god with his fingers.

He set the perfect pace, pistoning into you steadily. The soft wet squelch of your walls each time he dug his dexterous fingers into you filled the room. Your head tilted back as he pulled whimpers and moans from your throat with each skilled stroke of his fingers.

“So noisy even when you try to be quiet.” He teases, giving you a particularly sensual stroke. You gasped softly as he curled his fingers upward into that soft spongy spot you could never seem to reach on your own. “Is this what you needed, baby?” Your hips lurched upwards off the bed, only to be pinned down again by one of his legs looping over yours.

Smacking your back against his chest, you wiggled against him. Soft whines left your lips as you desperately tried to take him deeper, unable to vocalize what you wanted at this point, just knowing you needed more.

“I know, sweetheart.” He coos gently, kissing the shell of your ear as he plays with your dripping pussy. He kissed against your shoulder as he plunged into you with care, hitting your sweet spot with every flutter of his fingers. Each loving stroke of your silky walls was bringing you closer to ecstasy, but the small upturned corners of Kenma’s mouth suggested he had other plans than letting you fall apart on his fingers.

As he slowly pulled out his fingers despite your attempts to drag him back in, clamping tightly around his digits before relinquishing with a wet plop. You let out a soft whine of protest, already hating the sensation of being so empty.

“Quit whining or I’m not going to give you my cock,” He teases, already reaching down to slip his sweatpants over his bulge. Immediately quieting, you turned to face him and watched with eager eyes as he pulled down his cotton boxer briefs. His thick cock sprung free, bouncing lightly as he began to palm himself.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come sit in my lap, okay?” He prompted gently, his cock twitching from the stimulation along with thoughts of how cute you’d look stuffed full. You nodded obediently, crawling closer slowly. He gently dipped a finger into your panties, tugging them down gently, careful not to stretch the elastic. He lifted you up with gentle hands before slowly settling you on top of his thick cock. You let out a soft squeal and clenched tightly around the intrusion as you slowly slid down his length, causing him to let out a soft hiss through his teeth.

“Ken!” You clutch at him frantically, nuzzling against him needily. He lets out a shaky breath, teeth gritting at the overwhelming tightness of you. Fuck you were always good, but right now you were squeezing him so deliciously.

“Shhh… I’ve got you.” He shushed softly, though his own voice shakes as he tries to calm down, his dick throbbing inside you as your walls grip him possessively. He gently cradled you to his chest, staying buried deep inside you and shushing your soft whines as he placed delicate kisses over your face. Moments like these were his favorite, your mind and body stuffed so full of him you could barely take it anymore.

He rocked you gently in his arms, nestling his cock deeper and deeper as he gave you minimal friction. Your pussy drooled helplessly against him, feeling his tip kissing your cervix sweetly. A soft pleading whine left your throat but he silenced it with a gentle kiss.

“What did we talk about, baby?” He prompts softly, gently starting to rock his hips against yours. “I always take care of you, right? My pretty girl’s never been left unsatisfied.” He nuzzles against your neck, softly kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin as his hips continue their shallow movements. You nod weakly against him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

He smiles against your collar, nipping appreciatively. Gently pushing your back to the bed, he starts to give you deeper thrusts, causing you to let out a soft anticipatory moan.

“Gonna make those little noises for me already? I’m barely moving, pretty girl.” He teases lovingly. He sets a slow, loving pace, letting you feel every inch of him as he burrows into you.

As tough as he’s pretending to be right now, there’s already a layer of sweat peppering his brow. He’s fighting off the urge to fuck into you with wild abandon, knowing your body isn’t at its full strength. Fuck you’d be paying for this later, how dare you get sick? God when you get better he’s going to plow into you so fucking hard-

“Ken?” You call softly, “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty hard.” Concern drips off your every word and his grip on your waist tightens slightly before loosening again. Fuck you’re so sweet. Fuck, fuck, fuck… His chest starts to heave softly.

“I’m okay, just let me make you feel better, yeah?” He nods softly to himself, delving his hips

against yours. With a gentle hand he slowly pulls your shirt up, revealing your gorgeous tits. His hands settle over them and slowly begin to knead the supple flesh as he tunnels into you. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he rocks his hips, dragging his lower lip between his teeth as he tries not to get lost in the overwhelming sensation of your syrupy walls.

His hips roll in sensual circles, swirling his thick cock deep inside you, digging into your special spots. He hugs you tightly, cuddle-fucking into you affectionately, kissing down your neck and shoulders as he gently ruts into you.

“Kenma, I can take it.” You whine softly, causing his hips to stutter. “I know you’re trying to be sweet, but I can handle it, I promise.”

“You’re still not feeling well, I don’t want to push your body too hard while you’re recovering.” He resumes his slow pace. Mentally patting himself on the back for not immediately caving at the request he is desperate to fulfill, he continues to give you steady thrusts.

“But-”

“You’ll take what I give you.” He punctuates his sentence with a rougher thrust, causing you to gasp and clasp onto his shoulders.

“Kenma… please!” Your voice is high and airy, causing him to let out a gravelly groan. “I just want you to-”

“Stop. Fucking. Whining.” He thrusts into you rougher, sliding his hands into yours. Intertwining your fingers, he pins your hands above your head. “Fuck I’m trying to be responsible, trying to take it easy on you. Why can’t you just listen?” He asks with mildly obscured frustration both at your pleading and himself for not being able to resist the temptation.

He gives you sharper thrusts, pulling breathy moans from your throat. He leans down to give you a rough kiss, not slowing his pace. Pressing his forehead to yours, he looks into your eyes as he rails into you. Each thrust from his hips sending his cock plunging deeper than before, stretching you deliciously while he speared you on his girthy length.

“Is this what you wanted? Huh?” He pounded into you, deep thrusts driving you to babble nonsense while he fucked you into oblivion, pinning you down by your hands as you arched into each of his rough thrusts. His breath was ragged and his mind clouded with lust. He dropped your hands in favor of holding onto your hips, holding you still to hit the perfect angles to have you both gasping for air.

“I l-love you, Ken!” You clutched onto his shoulders as he drilled into you, his hips driving against yours with enough force to have the headboard smacking into the wall. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, egging him on to rut into you harder.

“God you’re so fucking pretty and sweet…” He groans into your neck, his voice gradually getting that familiar whiny tone that came out when he got close. “I love you too, baby, so fucking much, you’re perfect…” You bit softly into his shoulder, trying to ground yourself as he pushed you closer and closer towards your high.

“Kenma!” You let out a high-pitched whine as his tip rams into your sweet spot repeatedly. “Ken!” You claw at his back, toes curling as his thrusts become sloppier. He lets out a low grunt, ramming into you, his cock twitching eagerly as your walls begin to tighten and spasm around him.

“Go on,” He nips at your earlobe, “Cum for me, pretty girl.” With that your thighs are shaking, trembling as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. You tighten around him like a vice, squeezing his cock as his own climax catches up to him.

“Fuck, fuck!” He lets out a gravelly moan, gritting his teeth as he shoots thick, creamy ropes deep into you. He sways his hips softly, letting you milk his cock as he unloads stream after stream. He collapses against your chest, clearly more spent than you by this point. Letting out a soft whine he pulls back to look at you, golden eyes gazing into yours. His concern is written clearly across his face as he stares down at you; the lust-filled haze slowly clearing from his mind.

“I’m sorry, baby” he says immediately, his tone sweet and gentle “I got carried away, are you okay?” His brows tented together slightly, his words coming out with a bit of nervousness that you hadn’t heard from him since you two had first started dating.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” You say softly, breathless. A sweet satisfied smile stretches across your lips. “I needed that.” You pant with a soft giggle. He wraps his arms gently around your neck, kissing over your face sweetly.

“I love you.” He laughs softly, just as breathless. His flat chest heaves with exertion. “So much…” He smiles, nuzzling his damp face against your neck

“I love you more.” You beam, kissing the top of his head, fingers reaching up to tangle in his messy hair. He kisses lazily at your jaw, nipping playfully. After a few minutes of scratching his scalp gently, soft snores leave Kenma’s lips as he drifts off to sleep. You laugh softly, snuggling him close. The two of you always took such good care of each other.

And when Kenma woke up the next morning with a fever, you were ready to tend to him with the same gentle care. (Only this time, you’d be on top!)

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu x reader #x reader #kenma x you #kozume kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma smut #kenma x y/n #kenma #nekoma #request #ask #anon ask #nekomaniac

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auras-moonstone · 2 years ago

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how you get the girl — ethan landry

word count: 3,654

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: because of ethan’s reputation as a man-whore, y/n doesn’t believe he wants a serious relationship with her. so, ethan and chad make a list so that he can get the girl.

warnings: fluff.

author’s note: i’ve been reading lots of hockey rom-coms, so i needed to write about it. i’m obsessed with ethan as a hockey player😫

ETHAN DIDN’T KNOW HOW BADLY HIS ACTIONS WOULD COME BACK IN THE FUTURE TO BITE HIM IN THE ASS. Being captain of the Blackmore hockey team and certified pretty boy, girls were practically—and quite literally sometimes—throwing themselves at him, and he would lie if he said he didn’t love the attention. It would be easier and shorter to name the girls he hadn’t hooked up with than naming the ones he had. That gained him the reputation of being a playboy, and he didn’t mind being called that, to be completely honest. Or at least, he didn’t until Y/N came into his life.

She was Tara’s best friend, and since said girl started dating Ethan’s best friend, Chad, the four of them began spending lots of time together. At first, the boy flirted with Y/N because hitting on attractive girls was like second nature to him, but then he got to know her better and the unexpected thing happened—Ethan was swept off his feet. But his reputation was his karma, and Y/N didn’t think he was being serious with her. She would laugh and brush it off because no matter how gorgeous Ethan was, playboys weren’t Y/N’s type, so she would decline every attempt of him to make her go out with him.

“Why not? Just one date” Ethan said on his fifth attempt of the day. They were on the Blackmore hockey rink, and instead of using his break to drink water and rest, Ethan went to talk to Y/N.

“Exactly. You want just one date, get me inside your bed and tomorrow you’ll move onto some other girl. I really like you” she said, and before he could smirk in victory she added. “But why ruin the friendship we have for sex? Besides, one night stands aren’t my cup of tea.”

“Then let’s make it an every day thing” Ethan said.

“Nice try, Eth. We know you don’t do repeats” she stated.

“I could!” he argued. “And besides, I’m not asking for sex—I mean, at the end of the date, if you want to, I’m not gonna reject the offer—, I’m done with hook ups, I want something more.”

Y/N laughed “Okay, try it, but not with me. I’m sorry, Eth”

The girl stood up and made her way towards the exit of the rink, leaving a disappointed Ethan behind. She would lie if she said she didn’t want to try things with him, but the truth also was that she didn’t trust him when it came to relationships and she didn’t want to get her heart broken by him.

Chad got off the ice to find his best friend sitting on the bleachers, gaze fixed on the stairs, looking like a sad kicked puppy. It’s not a sight seen often, Ethan was usually an over-energetic puppy, always happy and with a smile on his face.

“Hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Y/N rejected me.” Ethan played with his hockey stick, not wanting to meet his best friend’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen you like this after a rejection” Chad frowned.

“Well, not to brag, but it doesn’t usually happen.” he said, making Chad chuckle. “But it’s different this time. Y/N is not someone I want for one night, or for something casual. I want everything with her.”

“Wow” Chad took a breath, shocked by the confession. “And she said no?”

“She says she doesn’t want to ruin our friendship” Ethan said.

Chad scoffed “Why would that happen?”

“She doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m not boyfriend material. I really am serious about her, Chad. I swear. I would never hurt her. I wish she could read my mind”

“Don’t you dare give up, then. Words aren’t enough, show her you really like her”

“How?”

Chad smirked. “Grab a pen and a napkin, we are going to make a list so you can get the girl.”

one: get her favourite coffee

ETHAN WOKE UP A BIT EARLIER THE FOLLOWING DAY TO GO TO Y/N’S FAVOURITE COFFEE SHOP AND GET HER ORDER. He convinced Tara to drag Y/N straight to class, not letting her get the coffee, and to text him once they were in the classroom. Once he got the text, Ethan entered the class, all eyes on him, and set the cup in front of Y/N with an adorable grin.

“Good morning. You look gorgeous as always” he kissed her cheek and simply left the room.

Y/N stared at the drink completely astonished, ignoring the glares coming from the female population and the smirk her best friend was giving her. There was something scribbled with black sharpie—it was simple, but it made her stomach combust. Have a great day, beautiful! Love, Ethan. And three hearts poorly made—which she thought was utterly adorable—next to his name.

“You got him in a leash” Tara laughed.

“Don’t be silly, we know what he wants” Y/N brushed it off.

“Come on, Ethan doesn’t do romantic stuff for anyone, not even to get laid.”

“It’s just one coffee, Tara. Let’s not be dramatic.”

But Tara knew, and Y/N too, that the little gesture was a lot when it came to Ethan Landry. Yet, a coffee cup wasn’t enough to gain the girl’s trust.

two: show her you’re interested in her interests

WHAT IS THE THING Y/N ENJOYED THE MOST? EASY: BOOKS. Ethan knew exactly which one he should start with. In fact, he had bought it the first time Y/N mentioned it. He didn’t know what it was about, but he was sure it was a rom-com that referenced other rom-com movies.

“Ethan!” Chad said in a loud voice, startling his friend. Ethan looked up to find his best friend, Tara and Y/N staring at him. The latter had her mouth wide open.

“What?” he asked absentmindedly. He had been so immersed in the book he hadn’t heard them arrive.

“We called your name countless times, man.” Chad laughed.

“Sorry” Ethan closed the book and looked at Y/N. “Um, I may have a man-crush on Wes Bennett.”

Y/N chuckled, sitting in front of him and ignoring the way her heart was beating rapidly. She wanted to take a picture of Ethan with the book and set it as her lock screen “Welcome to the club.”

“I can’t stand it anymore, I need them to kiss. I need Wes to get the girl” he groaned.

A grin took over her features “Which part are you at?”

“They are going to hang out at Michael’s house” Ethan replied, which made her smile wider. “What’s that smile for? Oh god, what is going to happen?”

“I’m not going to spoil it! Just want to say… buckle up”

“You can’t say that! I can’t continue reading until tomorrow, I have a test!” Ethan panicked.

“Look at you, invested in a rom-com” Chad bumped his shoulder.

“I just wanted to see if it lived up to Y/N’s hype” Ethan said, making her turn into a blushing mess. “It does.”

“You aren’t even finished” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Did you know there’s a sequel coming? And its playlist isn’t very optimistic”

“What?! You just ruined my day. I don’t want to read it anymore” he crossed his arms.

Wanting to mess with him, Tara grabbed the book. “So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ she stopped talking when the boy took the book from her hands.

“Yes, I would mind”

“Wait, are you annotating it?” Y/N said when she saw the colourful post-its.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Anyways, I have to go to class, see you later at practice?”

“See you” Chad said. Before leaving, Ethan kissed Y/N’s forehead.

“What is going on with him?” Y/N asked.

“Showing you he’s serious about you. What are you waiting for, Y/N/N? I thought you liked him” Chad said.

“I do, a lot. But I’m not sure I’m really what he wants. What if he’s just interested because I’m the only girl who has rejected him? What if I finally say yes and then that interest is gone? How am I supposed to recover from that?”

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to call him mine, Chad. Trust me. But being just another girl on his list would kill me. I don’t want to lose him, okay? I don’t know if I’m willing to risk our friendship.”

three: woo her with your hockey skills.

WHEN PRACTICE WAS OVER AND CHAD AND ETHAN DIDN’T LEAVE THE RINK, Y/N WAS CONFUSED. The boys skated towards the bleachers Tara and her were sitting in and smirked at them. Chad grabbed a bag from a corner and gave it to them.

“Put the skates on, ladies”

Y/N wanted to laugh when Ethan grabbed her hands and guided her around the ice, but she thought it was so cute that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she knew how to skate perfectly well.

“Okay, I think you’re ready to do it on your own, but go slowly” Ethan said as he finished explaining her how to slide in the ice.

“Losers don’t do it slowly, Landry.” Y/N scoffed.

“You will hurt yourself, Y/N/N. Don’t be stubborn, it’s dangerous.” Ethan sighed.

Y/N smirked “Oh yeah?” she skated flawlessly towards a corner, and came back with a winning smile. She even did a little spin to show off.

“H-how?” he asked breathlessly, frozen in place with a look of shock.

“Took skating classes when I was little” she explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I was blabbering instructions like a fool”

Y/N shrugged “I couldn’t, you looked so excited”

“You’re evil” he shook his head as he let out the cutest laugh Y/N had ever heard. God, her infuriation was just getting worse with every little action he did. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to contain herself. She needed him to stop.

So her face turned serious “Ethan…”

Ethan fluttered his eyes close and then looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. I know what you’re going to say. Just hear me out. I know that my reputation is horrible, and I get why you don’t trust me. But I have never been more serious about something the way I am about you. I really wish I could erase every hook up, but I can’t and I don’t want my past to define my future. I know it’s hard to believe, but I haven’t been with anyone since I fell for you. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since I fell for you. I want to keep showing you how much I like you.”

Y/N was speechless. He had known Ethan long enough to know he was being serious and completely honest with his words. Maybe she had judged him too much, maybe he had truly changed. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him with a girl in ages. Maybe diving into a relationship wasn’t the safest option, but it was worth the try.

four: get her flowers

DURING HER LUNCH BREAK, Y/N WAS SURPRISED BY THE HOCKEY PLAYER, who on one hand was holding red tulips and on the other one food. Like always, his presence brought attention and whispers, but none of them cared. Something had shifted between them since that afternoon at the rink, and they both could feel it.

“Thank you, Eth” she smiled gratefully. “You know, I had a feeling you would bring me lunch, so instead of bringing mine, I brought yours. I owe you flowers, though.”

“Thanks” he laughed. “Do you like them?”

“They are beautiful” she nodded, her cheeks the same colour as her flowers.

“When you get home, you should look for the meaning of red tulips” he winked.

For the rest of the day, Y/N had been in a haze. Every time Ethan crossed her mind, blush appeared on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth lifted up.

“My god, was I that annoying when Chad and I started talking?” Tara asked when they entered their dorm.

“Yes, you were, T.” Y/N chuckled, remembering her best friend’s love-sick smile every time Chad texted her. “You still are, by the way.”

“Anyways, I love seeing you like this. And I’m glad you’re willing to give Ethan a chance.”

“Me too. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit scared that he’ll get bored of me, but I’m really determined to risk it.”

“He’s not going to get bored of you, Y/N/N. He doesn’t like you because he’s into the whole ‘Only girl who had ever rejected him’ thing. He’s into you because you don’t see him only as a hot hockey player, but you also see how sweet and caring he is. You’re not interested in using him to become popular, you see that he is much more than his popularity. And that is why he likes you.”

“Well, shit. Now I feel bad for rejecting him multiple times.” Y/N slumped to the couch.

Tara laughed “Don’t. It’s understandable why you were cautious with your feelings. He knows that he isn’t a saint. By the way, did you know that Chad and him made this list with things to do to win you over?”

“Really?” Y/N laughed. “That makes sense, he’s being really sweet this week. Well, more than usual, because he’s always super sweet.”

“I found it on their fridge, they are so silly. It’s called ‘Ethan and Chad’s infallible list on how to get the girl’. I took a picture”

Y/N took Tara’s phone and laughed at the list. There were a couple of items crossed out and with a tick, and the one that said ‘Woo her with your hockey skills’ had a little note to the side that said ‘Backfired. My girl is a skating genius, made me look like a fool’, which made her laugh. Then, on the ‘Give her flowers’ there was an explanation note that said ‘My pick: red tulips. Means declaration of love’.

“Fucking hell, he’s so… ugh! I really want to kiss him”

“Lucky for you, that’s item six” Tara said over her shoulder.

“The thought of them brainstorming and writing this down is adorable” Y/N laughed.

“It really is” Tara nodded. “You should wear Ethan’s jersey to the game tomorrow. You don’t know how many times he told us he has dreamt about it.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. Ethan had shown her how much he liked her, and she thought it was time to show him how much she liked him. “You know? That’s an excellent idea.”

[💖]

five: publicly state you’re only into her.

ETHAN KNEW THE BEST TIME TO EXECUTE ITEM FIVE WOULD BE THE NIGHT OF THE GAME. The ideal scenario would be to get that puck on the net and dedicate it to Y/N, and if he wasn’t that lucky, he would settle with blowing kisses and winks at her. Though when he went out on the ice rink and he caught sight of her, his mind went blank, his body stopped working for a couple of seconds and if it weren’t for Chad steadying him, he would’ve collapsed to the ice.

He quickly skated towards her seat, which was in the first row, right behind the glass. “Beautiful, you can’t just come here in my jersey without any warnings. You want me to have a heart attack?”

A sweet laugh bursted out of her “Sorry. Red tulips are your way of declaring your love, I thought wearing your jersey could be mine.”

Ethan’s breath hitched “Um, I’m about to jump up this glass so that I can kiss you.”

The girl shook her head and laughed “After the game, pretty boy. If you win, you might get an extra reward.”

And hell if those words didn’t encourage Ethan to play his best. The game was brutal, both teams were acing it and the match was about to end in a tie, until Ethan scored the winning goal a few seconds before time was over. The Blackmore bleachers erupted in screams of triumph, and the players united for a group hug.

Tara and Y/N instantly went looking for their boys. The last one scowled as she saw a puck bunny making sexy eyes at Ethan and she clung to his arm. The boy couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable, he pulled his arm away, only for the girl to find another way of touching him.

“You have been acting so hard to get lately. Don’t you think a winner deserves a kiss?” Y/N heard the girl say.

“You’re absolutely right. Now, back away so I can kiss the hell out of him.” Y/N said, throwing daggers at the girl, who looked at her in a mix of surprise and annoyance. “And can’t you get a hint? He’s uncomfortable.”

Ethan gaped at her. She had never looked so hot—standing there with his number on the back of the jersey that fitted her like a dress, knee-length boots that weirdly turned him on, and with a scowl on her face as she got all territorial on him.

“And who are you?” the puck bunny scanned her up and down with a frown.

“His girlfriend. Now, can you leave? I have to congratulate my man” she said harshly. As soon as she said that, Ethan was sure he was about to drop onto his knees and let her do whatever she wanted to him.

“Girlfriend?” Ethan smirked as the puck bunny left. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good” Y/N smirked back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, are you ready to cross out items five and six? You know, one bird two stones.”

“Hell yes”

Their lips moved hungrily, and the kiss was way too heated and inappropriate considering their surroundings. But they couldn’t stop it, their desire was diesel and they had been playing with fire for months.

“I promised you a reward if you won, right?” Y/N said against his lips.

“Isn’t this the reward? This is more than I could’ve asked for. You, finally being my girlfriend and kissing me while wearing my jersey.” his eyes were dark and lips swollen. His beauty was out of this world.

“You scored the winning goal, babe. You deserve a special reward” she licked her lips. “Let’s go to your car.”

He nodded eagerly, and as they reached the car, he dared to ask “What do you have in mind?”

She opened the back door. “One kiss isn’t enough. How much time do you have until you have to go to the bar with the guys?”

“What guys? What bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he acted clueless and she let out a giggle. “In fifteen, but they’ll survive if I arrive a bit late. I want to be with my girl for a while.”

“Okay, then get in the car so we can make out.” Y/N bursted out laughing as Ethan carelessly threw himself on the backseat of his car. “You need to learn about the art of subtlety, Eth.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the girl who attacked me in the middle of the arena.” he said grabbing her waist to guide her to his lap.

“Attack you? That’s not what I did” she scoffed.

“Yes you did. You attacked me with a kiss and then you led me to my car to corrupt me” Ethan said in a fake innocent tone.

“Corrupting the former man-whore?” Y/N arched an eyebrow.

Ethan’s eyes darkened “You’re right. Maybe I am the one corrupting you. I mean, you couldn’t even wait for us to get home to attack me again?”

“You’re insufferable. You’re so lucky you’re hot.”

“I am hot?”

Y/N nodded, looking at him. His muscled arms were spread on the top of the seats, grin plastered on his face and cheeks still rosy from the cold temperature of the arena.

“The hottest. And the best thing? That you’re mine.”

“Just yours, love.” he smiled sweetly, resting his forehead on hers.

“That list of yours is pretty… infallible, right?” Y/N joked.

“I can’t believe you know about the list” Ethan hid his face on her neck.

“You sticked it on the fridge and Tara took a picture” Y/N replied.

“Fucking Chad” Ethan groaned. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, it worked, right? You got the girl.”

“Yes, I did” he smiled hugging her tightly. “Should I do one on how to keep the girl?”

Y/N laughed “I don’t think you need that. Rumour has it, she’s totally in love with you.”

“Oh yeah? Lucky me, because I’m totally in love with her too.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #ethanlandry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry angst #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jackchampion #jack champion fanfic

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stillalivebydemand893 · 1 month ago

Text

Say a prayer,but let the good times roll...

Part 1🤭

18+!! SPICY !!READ WITH CAUTION (my fav so far)

Two roommates .Zero boundaries.

What started as a teasing turns into a filthy war of desire.

You were lounging on the couch when the front door slammed shut so hard the walls practically shook.

“Jesus fuck-what the hell?” you shouted, peering over the couch just in time to see Erik storm into the apartment, gagging like a man possessed as he stumbled to the kitchen sink.

He shoved the faucet on and started rinsing his mouth, hacking like something unholy had crawled into him.

“What the hell is going on with you?” you asked, still seated, half-concerned, half-mortified.

Living with a guy was never on your bucket list, but two months in and Erik had proved himself surprisingly tolerable,clean, domestic, even helpful. Plus, since you started playing Until Dawn every night, you’d both ended up sleeping on the couch together like scared kids, too spooked to turn the lights off.

“It was that date I told you about,” he choked out between gags.

“Julia’s friend.”

You cringed.

“And what the hell did she do to you?” you got up, heading to the fridge to grab him a lemon to suck on.

“She. Puked. In. My. Mouth.”

Another gag.

You froze.

“Oh my God. MOVE.”

You shoved him out of the way and dry-heaved into the sink beside him.

“We’re gonna have to burn this whole fucking sink now.”

“I know,” he croaked, already sliding to the kitchen floor, holding the lemon like it was a holy relic.

You joined him, both of you dizzy, halfway dead.

“You know… some people are into that. It’s, like, top ten in porn categories.”

You smirked, biting the inside of your cheek.

Erik stared at you in horror.

“Why the hell do you know that?”

“I have cousins I disown.” You sighed.

“Was she drunk?”

“Was she drunk?” he scoffed. “She projectile-vomited her soul into my mouth and then asked if I’d cover my tattoos for our wedding. Who says that?!”

You burst out laughing.

“Please. I’d put you in a crop top just to show off your tattoos. That girl’s clinically unwell.”

“RIGHT?!” He pulled up his shirt, revealing the skull inked on his stomach.

“This is art, not a liability.”

Your eyes lingered for just a second too long. You coughed, turning away abruptly.

“Come on, Kiki. Let’s restart the night. A proper night in.”

He disappeared into his bathroom, and you headed into yours to shower the trauma away.

You knocked on his door once you were done, but the music inside was blaring. He didn’t answer. The door was slightly open, and curiosity got the better of you.

You peeked in.

And saw everything.

Erik stood under the shower, one hand braced against the wall, the other stroking his cock,hard, thick, gleaming with water and precum. His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling. You watched, transfixed, as he ran a thumb over the tip, teasing the piercing with a low groan that made your knees tremble.

Your panties were already soaked.

You opened the door a little more, stepping into the steam.

“Need some help with that?” you asked, voice like a sin, leaning in the doorway like temptation itself.

He jumped, nearly yanking his piercing off.

“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to kill me?”

Then he processed your words,his cock still rock-hard in his hand.

His smirk returned.

You stepped forward, wearing just tiny shorts and a sports bra, letting the water soak you as much as him.

“What are you doing, Peach?” he asked, grabbing your waist, pulling you closer. His cock rubbed against your shorts, sending fire up your spine.

“Trying to kill me and then use me?”

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“No,” you whispered.

“I think I just want to use you for now. Can I?”

You dropped to your knees.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back.

“You don’t even have to ask. It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

His hand instinctively gripped your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You opened your mouth and took him in,warm, wet, your tongue playing with the piercing.

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

He couldn’t tell if he was in heaven or if he’d slipped and cracked his skull and this was the afterlife. Either way, he didn’t want it to end.

You played with the ring, your tongue circling it as you sucked hard, using your hand at the base. His moans filled the shower like music.

“Fuck, Peach. If you don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

You popped him out of your mouth, lips swollen and innocent.

“That’s the fucking point, baby.”

You took him again, this time deeper. He let out a choked moan and came, hips jerking forward, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Shit, don’t-don’t swallow that” he gasped, dropping to his knees.

He opened your mouth to see it, groaning.

“Fuck, I got distracted. Sorry”

You spat it into the drain and collapsed next to him, giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, still catching his breath.

“We just acted like we were in the worst porn parody ever.”

He laughed too, breathless. His cock, still red and hard, twitched against his thigh.

“You sucked the soul out of me. Want me to fix your car next? We can roleplay it properly.”

“Why are you still hard?” you asked, staring.

He smirked.

“Because you walked in here looking like my fantasy, then dropped to your knees and ruined me. That’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. This is your fault.”

He tucked a piece of wet hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your cheek.

“I enjoyed the show too much. I had to,” you teased, licking your lips slowly,watching his eyes track every second of it.

“Consider it a pity blowjob for your failed date.” You winked, getting up.

But before you could leave, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, your back slamming against the tiled wall. His body pressed into yours, hard and hungry.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His hand slid over your soaked bra, brushing your breast, then down to your shorts. He slipped his fingers inside your panties and into you in one fluid motion.

Your head fell back, a moan slipping from your lips.

“Fuuuck, Erik-”

“So wet for me?Good girl” he murmured, slipping another finger in. You whimpered, legs shaking.

Then he pulled his fingers out, leaving you empty.

“What the fuck,why did you stopped-” you started, only to freeze as he brought them to his lips and sucked.

“Sweet,” he muttered with a wicked smirk.

Your knees nearly buckled.

“Hot,” you whispered, breathless.

He pulled you back in, hips grinding into yours.

“If I knew my pretty little roommate was such a sex freak, I never would've gone on that date.”

You grinned, breath shaking.

“I had to let you go see what you were missing out on.”

He groaned, impossibly harder.

“Never again,” he growled, mouth crashing into yours.

His lips were on yours before you could catch your breath,urgent, consuming, filthy.

He kissed like he was starving. Like he’d waited months for this. Like tasting you was the only thing tethering him to earth.

Your back hit the shower wall again, water still pouring down both of you, making everything slick and sinful.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he groaned into your mouth, grinding against your soaked panties, his cock twitching between your thighs.

“You walk around this apartment half-naked, stealing my hoodies, giving me those fucking looks,and now you’re gonna pretend you’re done?”

You smirked, grabbing his jaw with one hand, the other running down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his abs.

“Who said I was done?” you whispered, dragging your lips across his throat, biting the skin just hard enough to make him hiss.

He let out a broken moan, hand sliding under your bra, thumbing your nipple until you arched into him.

“You’re a menace,” he whispered.

“Say it.”

You bit his earlobe.

“I’m your fucking menace.”

That was it. That broke him.

He turned you around, pressing your chest against the slick, cold tile, his body caging yours in from behind. You could feel his cock hot and thick between your cheeks, sliding teasingly under your soaked shorts.

“Tell me how much you want it Sweets.”

You looked over your shoulder, lips parted, eyes dark.

“I need it, Erik.Ruin me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling your shorts down, panties with them, exposing your ass to the steam and his hungry hands.

He knelt, gripping your thighs, spreading you just enough to tease your entrance with his tongue.

You cried out, head knocking against the tile.

“You taste like everything I’ve ever wanted,” he muttered against you, tongue flicking and licking until your legs trembled.

Your fingers scraped down the wall.

“Erik-fuck, I’m gonna-”

But he stopped.

You whimpered, twisting to look at him.

He stood, licking his lips, smug.

“Not yet, baby. Not until I’m inside you.”

He lined himself up behind you, his cock hot and heavy against your dripping entrance, and you pushed back on instinct, desperate, needy.

“Please,” you whispered.

“Beg prettier,” he growled in your ear, biting your shoulder.

You moaned, pushing your hips into his.

“Please, Erik. Fuck me like you mean it.”

He snapped his hips forward and buried himself in one thrust.

You both gasped-him at how tight you were, you at how fucking full he made you feel.

“Holy shit, Peach…” he whispered, his voice wrecked.

He didn’t give you time to adjust.

He started thrusting,slow at first, then harder, deeper, punishing.

Your moans bounced off the tiles, mixing with the slap of wet skin and the hiss of the water.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss your neck, biting, marking.

You could barely speak.

“I wanted this-I wanted you like this,for so long…” you cried out as he hit that spot that made your knees go weak.

“Then take it,” he growled. “Take all of me.”

His hand slid down to your clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucked you from behind.

“Come for me, baby. Make a mess all over my cock. Show me how much you needed this.”

You shattered, crying out his name, legs trembling, walls clenching around him.

“Erik fuck-I’m -”

He came with a groan, spilling into you as he kept thrusting through both your highs, grinding until you were both wrecked, breathless, bodies trembling against the wall.

For a long moment, all that existed was the water, the heat, and the sound of your breathing.

He pulled you back against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“So,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

“Still think we’re just roommates?”

You laughed, breathless, head falling back against his shoulder.

“I think we’re done with dating apps’’

Steam still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the bathroom, towel barely secured around you. Erik trailed behind you like a shadow, only a towel around his hips, water dripping from his hair, eyes locked on your ass like he couldn’t look anywhere else.

You paused at the hallway mirror, catching his gaze through the reflection.

“You still staring?”

“Can you blame me?” he grinned.

“I’m trying to sear this into memory in case I die tonight.”

You rolled your eyes but bit back a smile.

“Come on. Let’s watch a movie like we didn’t just defile the entire shower.”

“Just watch a movie huh.” he muttered under his breath, following you to the living room.

You threw on a pair of tiny shorts and one of Eriks’ shirt, pretending not to notice how Erik’s jaw clenched when he sat down beside you. The couch still had that lived-in warmth from countless shared nights playing games, eating takeout… but now it felt charged. Like the air itself knew what was coming next.

He draped a blanket across your lap like a formality and tossed on a horror movie. You leaned into him, and he opened his arm for you to curl against his chest like it was habit.

And it was. But now? Now you were both too aware.

The first scream from the movie hit just as you shifted,your hand brushed over the growing bulge in his grey sweatpants. He flinched.

“You okay there?” you teased, voice innocent, eyes anything but.

“Peach…” he warned.

You climbed into his lap. Slowly. Deliberately.

His breath caught as your knees caged his thighs and you settled on top of him, grinding just slightly for the fun of watching his control crack.

“Thought we were watching the movie,” he said through clenched teeth, his hands already sliding up your bare thighs under the blanket.

“I am watching,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“But I think I found a better show.”

You rocked your hips once and felt his cock twitch beneath you. His boxers had slide down, and now you were grinding against his bare, hard length through the thin fabric of your shorts.

He groaned, head dropping back.

“You’re playing with fire.”

“Then burn me.”

He grabbed your waist and slammed your hips down on him, making you gasp. His cock was hot, thick, and you could feel the pressure of it rubbing perfectly where you needed.

You slid your shorts to the side and sank down onto him in one slow, aching motion.

Both of you moaned.

“Fuuuck, Peach…”

His head fell forward, lips brushing against your collarbone.

“You feel unreal.”

You rolled your hips, slow and deep, grinding down on him like you wanted to break him open and crawl inside.

His hands were everywhere,palming your ass, squeezing your hips, gripping your thighs like you were something sacred and forbidden.

You pressed your forehead to his, breathing in sync.

“Eyes on me baby.”

He looked up, pupils blown wide, lips parted.

You started riding him.

Not fast.

Not frantic.

Rhythmic.

Cruel.

Unholy.

His hands dropped limp to his sides for a second like he was in awe, letting you take over,your movements fluid and confident, grinding in a way that made him twitch inside you.

“That’s it,” he groaned.

“Fucking ride me like you own me.”

You smirked.

“I do own you.”

You took his hands and placed them on your breasts, arching into his palms, moving faster now, slapping against him with every bounce of your hips.

His moans turned raw.

You leaned down and kissed him, wet and sloppy, tongues colliding like a fight neither of you wanted to win.

You broke the kiss, breathless, sweat slicking your skin.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

He nodded, forehead pressed to your chest.

“So fucking close. Don’t stop. Please-don’t”

He reached down between you, rubbed your clit in quick circles as you bounced harder, his name falling from your lips like prayer.

He grabbed your hips, met your thrusts.

You clenched around him,tight.

“Holy shit, Peach”

He came with a broken moan, hips jerking, cock pulsing inside you.

You followed seconds later, gasping his name as your climax slammed through you, thighs trembling.

Silence fell.

Only the sound of the movie still playing in the background, completely forgotten.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting like you’d run a marathon, not just had the filthiest sex of your lives on a couch you once built IKEA furniture on.

He kissed the top of your head.

“Best movie night ever.”

You smirked, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Shut up. We’re rewatching it tomorrow.”

You and Erik were half-naked and tangled in bed when your phones started blowing up like a fire alarm.

Mom: We’re 45 minutes away! Can’t wait to meet Erik’s family 💖

Erik’s Mom: Tell Peach’s parents we brought banana bread. 😌

You both bolted upright like you’d been shot.

“Your parents are coming?”

“Yours are too??”

A beat. Then in perfect unison:

“NO SEX THIS WEEKEND.”

You pointed at him.

He pointed at you.

You both started laughing nervously, even though your bodies were already betraying you.

You hadn’t even finished round four yet.

By noon, the apartment was packed with polite conversation, banana bread, and doom.

Erik’s mom brought a fruit tray.

Your mom brought Jesus.

Both dads brought absolutely zero self-awareness.

You sat on the couch next to Erik, acting normal while your knees touched under the blanket and he was rock hard for absolutely no reason except you existed.

He leaned over.

“If you exhale on me again, I’m gonna need a priest.”

You blinked. “You’re hard?”

He nodded. “Since your mom said ‘blessed union.’”

You sat next to Erik at the dinner table,which was a tactical error.

You were wearing the skirt.

The little black one that Erik had literally threatened to burn because he “couldn’t look at it without getting a boner and accidentally ruining your grandma’s throw pillows.”

The no-sex rule?

Dead.

Gone.

Buried.

This was no longer about “respecting our parents.”

This was war.

A silent, sexy war of “who breaks first.”

His mom, sweet as sugar, beamed across the table.

“So sweetie, has my boy been behaving himself?”

Before you could answer, Erik’s hand slid up your thigh under the table, fingers gliding along your bare skin like he wasn’t sitting next to his own mother.

You choked on your water, then recovered like a champ.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s very useful around the house.”

You side-eyed Erik and squeezed his hand as a warning.

“He’s got amazing hands. Really knows how to use them.”

Erik choked on his pie so hard his dad had to pat him on the back.

“He even helped me install some shelves last week.”

You smiled sweetly, slapped Erik lightly on the cheek, and he just stared at you like a man one second away from flipping the table and bending you over it.

“Now that’s my boy,” his dad said proudly.

Your mom, already one glass of wine in, glanced around the room.

“You know what this place is missing? A Bible. I haven’t seen one anywhere.”

You winced. Erik grinned like the devil himself.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said, sipping his water like it was holy.

“She prays every night. Loudly. I’ve had to tell her to quiet down a few times.”

You nearly fell out of your chair.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he added, sliding his fingers just a little higher.

You elbowed him so hard he wheezed.

Then your dad, looking serious as ever, turned to Erik.

“Now son, I was thinking of changing out those old pipes in the bathroom. I noticed they were leaking.”

You glared at Erik, your fork shaking.

“I’ve told Peach many times to be more mindful of water waste. It’s expensive these days.”

You gave your dad an innocent smile.

“It’s not my fault. Erik’s the one who takes forever in the shower.”

You turned to Erik, smirking.

“His self-care routine takes too long.”

Erik’s jaw clenched.

His eyes screamed "I'm going to rail you into the drywall."

“Yes, sir,” he said, keeping his voice calm.

“She’s very helpful, though. Offers to help me out. Knows exactly what creams to use.”

You blinked.

He wasn’t done.

“Real gentle with my toner. Knows her way around SPF. Gets the job done. Every time.”

You were going to kill him.

Or ride him under this damn table.

Maybe both.

Your parents were too busy planning a family trip to Italy to notice the sexual battlefield happening two feet away.

Erik leaned in close, whispering low in your ear.

“Brats like you get punished.”

He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you.

His thumb pressed into the inside of your thigh, right where he knew you were already wet.

You turned, lips grazing his ear.

Your hand slid into his lap.

Found his bulge.

Squeezed.

He flinched, let out a weird coughing noise to cover it, and glared at you like you just ran over his childhood dog.

You leaned in with a smug smile.

“No other brat is like me, baby.”

Then you retracted your hand and took a sip of wine like nothing happened.

He turned to you slowly.

Murder in his eyes.

Lust in his veins.

His fork broke in half in his hand.

Your victory?

Short-lived.

Because the second those parents were asleep?

You were done for.

Your parents were tucked into the guest room with their matching pajamas and bedtime tea.

Erik’s parents were settled in his room, probably talking about crossword puzzles and fiber.

And Erik?

Erik was supposed to be sleeping on the couch.

So why was he suddenly behind you in the hallway?

He didn’t say a word.

Just grabbed your wrist and yanked you into the closet like a man possessed.

Dark. Tight. Warm.

You opened your mouth to protest—and his hand covered it instantly, firm, fingers splayed over your lips.

“You really thought,” he whispered against your ear, “that you could pull that shit at dinner and not get punished?”

You shivered.

Your mom’s voice floated in from the kitchen:

“Do we have oat milk or just the boring kind?”

“Shh.” Erik pressed you back against the wall, his palm still over your mouth.

“You know I respect you, right?” he murmured.

You nodded,barely.

He leaned in, grabbed your bottom lip with his teeth, bit, and kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get the chance.

“Good,” he breathed.

“Because when we’re finally alone, I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”

He dropped one last kiss on your neck, slow and almost too soft for the threat he just made—and then he was gone.

Just… vanished.

Left you in the dark.

Panting. Shaking. Wrecked.

The door clicked shut behind him.

You stared into the darkness for a full five seconds before muttering:

“Oh, that smug little shit.”

You stumbled out of the closet on wobbly knees, horny, ruined, and out for revenge.

You grabbed the closest stack of towels,clearly just for cover, because what were you gonna say?

“Oh, I was just… having a religious experience in the closet”? Right.

Hair in a ponytail.

Face flushed.

Thighs clenched.

You tiptoed toward the laundry basket like you weren’t combusting internally.

Then-

“Sweetie, what are you doing?”

Your mom appeared behind you, clutching a wine glass and a judgmental aura.

You flinched so hard you nearly ate a shelf.

“Mom!” you squeaked. “God, announce yourself. Jesus.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re acting suspicious. Are you hiding snacks again?”

“I-no, I’m just grabbing towels. For… wiping stuff.”

Her eyes narrowed.

You panicked.

“Tears! For wiping tears. You know how I get emotional about… textures.”

She took a towel, felt it between her fingers, then sighed dramatically.

“I told you to buy the softer ones from Target. These feel like loofahs for criminals.”

You nodded aggressively, hoping the topic would change before she detected the scent of sin and closet lust.

“Yeah, we’ll get the good ones next time, promise.”

“And stop slamming around. I could hear thumping earlier.”

You froze.

She sipped her wine, squinting at you.

“Unless Erik dropped something. Or maybe you two were…”

She paused.

You both stood there.

Silence.

“…reorganizing?”

You laughed. Loud. Too loud.

“Totally reorganizing.”

You clutched the towels like a body shield.

“So much organization. Gonna start a Pinterest board.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She gave you the most suspicious mom look of all time and disappeared toward the guest room.

You exhaled.

Then you whispered under your breath:

“Okay, Kiki. War is ON.”

Because Erik might have left you trembling in a closet.

But this battle?

Wasn’t over.

The next morning, you woke up mad.

Not just “he-left-me-hanging-in-a-closet” mad.

You woke up with a mission.

Erik was going to pay.

Not with pain.

But with suffering.

The good kind.

You strolled into the kitchen.

No bra.

Wearing his vintage band tee from high school,the one that clung to your chest like a prayer and barely covered the tops of your thighs.

Your hair in a high ponytail. (He once admitted that does things to him. You remember everything.)

Erik was pouring himself orange juice.

He froze mid-pour.

Some of it overflowed onto the counter. He didn’t even blink.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he said, voice low, already wrecked.

You tilted your head sweetly, like butter wouldn’t melt on your tongue.

“Doing what?”

He groaned. Actually groaned. Like someone had just stepped on his soul.

You leaned in just a little. Smirked.

And then“accidentally”you spilled a little more juice.

“Oops.”

You brushed past him, chest grazing his arm, and bent over the island to reach the sink for a wipe.

Your shirt rode up just enough to reveal the curve of your lower back and the hem of shorts so tiny they may as well have been a rumor.

Erik made a sound behind you that could only be described as a cry for help.

When you finished your cleaning duty, you turned to him like nothing happened.

He was gripping his glass with the intensity of someone who might shatter ceramic with his horniness.

You tiptoed to his ear, your lips brushing his skin.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” you whispered, devilish.

Before he could growl a reply, your mom shouted from the couch:

“Children, we’re going for a walk! Want to join?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I can’t,” you called sweetly. “I’ve got a work assignment. But Erik will. Won’t you, Kiki?” You knew Erik would say yes,he had to,unless he wanted to be interrogated by your entire bloodline.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, innocent as sin.

His jaw twitched.

You could practically hear his soul leaving his body.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a fake smile so tight it could cut glass.

“He’s such a sweet boy,” your mom beamed.

“Always so kind,” her bestie added.

You gave him one last smirk as you strolled out of the kitchen, hips swinging like victory.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

And you knew he’d make you pay for it.

Two hours later.

The front door slammed hard.

“Mom?” you called lazily, pretending you weren’t already smirking.

“No.”

Erik’s voice growled from the hall.

“But you’ll sure beg for her Bible when I’m done with you.”

You turned the corner.

He stood there,muddy, sweaty, his hair disheveled, his eyes blazing like a man who’d just crawled out of hell .

“The fuck happened to you?” you asked, staring.

(It was annoying how hot he looked like this. Feral. Furious. Ferociously damp.)

“What happened to me?” he repeated, eyebrows high.

“I sprinted through half the woods, lied to both our parents about having explosive diarrhea, and nearly rolled my ankle in a puddle,just so I could come back here and teach you a fucking lesson.”

He stepped forward, looming over you.

“Your dad is still texting me asking if I need Imodium or chamomile tea.”

You burst out laughing. You couldn’t help it.

But the moment your eyes met his, the air shifted.

The laughter faded.

The smirk stayed.

Because now you were alone.

And he was pissed.

And you were so ready.

He closed the distance between you in two strides, grabbing your jaw, backing you up into the hallway wall.

“Still feeling smug?” he muttered, lips hovering over yours.

His body pressed into yours, his hands finding your hips like they belonged there.

You inhaled shakily.

“Only a little.”

He kissed you hard.

No warning. No pretense.

"What, are you going to punish me?"

You smirked against his lips, your breath hot, taunting, feral.

"Make me go to my room? Have I been that bad?"

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t blink.

His hand came up, slow and lethal, his fingertip dragging across your upper lip.

His voice dropped so low it scraped down your spine .

“It’s really a shame, Peach.”

His thumb rested just under your chin.

“You got all dolled up… just for me to ruin you.”

Your knees buckled. Your blood ignited. Your entire body turned traitor for him.

You clutched at his shirt, voice nothing more than a desperate whimper.

“Please… I’ll be good. Just fuck me. Please.”

Your words were a surrender.

You were hanging by a thread, and he was holding the scissors.

He leaned into your ear, his lips brushing your skin.

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

In one swift movement, he grabbed you by your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist like instinct.

Your mouths stayed locked, breath hot and mouths greedy as he walked you through the hall, kicking your door open like a man with purpose.

He dropped you on the bed.

“You are such a fucking menace,” he growled, grinding against you, his hands everywhere,gripping, teasing, claiming.

“Can you blame me?” you moaned, breathless, as he sucked on your neck hard enough to mark it.

Your body arched beneath him, his name whispered like a prayer every time his mouth moved lower.

“You’re so hot… I can’t contain myself.”

He pulled back slightly, enough to look down at you,flushed, eyes half-lidded, wild.

And then you said it.

“You made me so addicted to you, I don’t know if I can live without you anymore.”

That stopped him.

His mouth hovered inches from your collarbone, his breath ragged. His pupils blown wide. His whole body tensed like you’d just snapped a wire he didn’t know existed.

Then-

“I love you.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You gulped hard, the moment instantly charged, electric, terrifying.

He was your best friend.

The one person who knew your soul. The one you broke for.

And you just handed him your heart like it was nothing.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

You watched him breathe-shallow, heavy.

His face was flushed, his brows furrowed, his lips parted.

Then he looked straight at you, eyes wide and wrecked.

“I-”

#erik campbell #erik campbell fanfiction #erik campbell final destination #final destination #erik campbell x reader #final destination bloodlines #final destination au

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