#I FORGOT ABOUT HIM OOOH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strangerexee · 2 months ago

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(2) ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ɢɪᴀɴᴛꜱ | ᴇʟɪᴊᴀʜ "ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ" ᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ

𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽!𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙶!𝙰𝚄

pairings: Elijah "smoke" Moore x black!fem!reader

It had been a couple weeks.

Two and a half, to be exact.

Not like you were counting.

Okay. You were.

He said he’d call.

He didn’t.

Didn’t hit your line. Didn’t pop up. Didn’t say not one damn word.

Which was fine. Totally fine. You weren’t pressed.

Not really.

You had a life. A job. Rent. A soft little routine. Did your Target runs. Lit your candles. Even hooked your iPad up to the TV like a suburban housewife and watched your little shows.

But still.

Every time your phone buzzed? Your eyes flicked to the screen too fast.

You tried not to, but your body did it anyway.

It was dumb. You knew that.

A man like that don’t linger. Don’t play house. Don’t kiss you soft and sit on your couch like he belonged there unless he’s got a reason. And if you weren’t the reason — well. You wasn’t gonna beg for it.

So you did what hot, sad bitches do when they need a reset.

You got dressed.

And hit the club.

Your friends were already inside when you walked up. Music spilling out the door. Bass so heavy it shook the sidewalk.

You were cute, too. Thighs out. Gloss poppin’. That short dress that hugged you like a problem.

One of your girls whistled when she saw you.

“Ouuu, not you comin’ out like you got revenge on your mind — who got you feelin’ sexy like that, girl?” “Nobody,” you lied. “I just needed some air.” “Uh huh.”

Whatever.

You grabbed a drink and danced anyway.

Tried to lose yourself in the crowd, in the bass, in the strobe lights and the slippery neon fog.

Tried not to think about him.

But God ain’t like you. He don’t let you lie for long.

Because when you turned around —

There he was.

Smoke.

Not in a hoodie this time.

Nope.

Tonight, he was in a black tee that hugged his arms and hung loose off his belt, jeans low on his hips like a sin, gold chain catching every light in the room.

He looked so good, you damn near moaned on sight.

Lord.

It's been too weeks too long and you forgot how tall he was. How that walk looked — slow, heavy, like he was carrying something dangerous in his back pocket.

His eyes found you like they’d been searching all night.

And when they landed?

Whew.

That stare had you wanting to throw your phone across the damn club.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t give him shit.

You just kept sipping your drink, real slow, like your knees weren’t already warm and turned away, as if that would make everything better.

He came up behind you, didn’t say nothing. Just leaned in a little — voice deep, low, close enough to brush your ear.

“I was gon’ call.”

You turned your head a little, gave him a look.

“Uh huh.” “I had to handle some shit.” “Of course you did.”

His eyes dragged down your body like he was trying to catch up for lost time.

“Missed me?”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes.

“You missed me,” he said, already sure.

You started to say something slick, but he was already reaching — hand sliding around your waist like it was made to be there.

“You look good, baby,” he said. And lord…the way he said baby.

Like a prayer. Like a promise. Like a problem you couldn’t wait to get tangled up in again.

“You ain’t supposed to be out here alone,” he muttered against your ear, voice wrapped in molasses. “I’m not alone.” “You ain’t with me.” “You not my man.” “Yet.”

Girl.

You had to finish your drink just to keep from screaming.

Your friends were watching.

One of them caught your eye and made the oooh he fineee face. You ignored her. Barely.

“Why you here?” you asked. “Don't you got corners to haunt or empires to run?”

“Empire still standing. I wanted to see you.”

“And you just knew I’d be here?”

He smirked.

“Like I said. People talk. Eyes on you.” “That’s not creepy at all.” “I ain’t tryin’ to be cute. I’m tryin’ to keep you safe.”

Safe.

You hated that the word made something in your chest flutter.

“You don’t even know me,” you said. He leaned down just a little, nose brushing your cheek.

“I know enough.”

He didn’t try to dance. Didn’t drag you off. Just stood there. Close. Warm.

Watching you.

Protecting you...?

Claiming you without saying the words.

And you let him.

Because what else were you gonna do?

Act like your thighs weren’t shaking? Pretend that kiss from two weeks ago didn’t haunt your dreams? Lie and say you didn’t want his hands on your skin?

You finally turned to face him.

Head tilted. Arms folded. Slick as always.

“You done handling whatever that shit was?”

His smile was slow this time. Crooked.

“Not even close,” he said. “But I’ll make time for you.”

You were maybe halfway through your sixth drink when the tipsy started to hit.

Not the sloppy kind.

The cute kind. The I’m smiling a little too hard, my hips feel loose, and I want to make bad decisions with a good-smelling man kind.

And lordddd—he was right there.

Still standing behind you, still close. One big hand ghosting the curve of your waist like he knew you were starting to melt.

“I shouldn’t let you drink like that,” he murmured, deep and gravelly, against the shell of your ear.

“Why?”

“‘Cause then you gon’ start actin’ up.” You leaned back a little, smiling like a brat. “And what if I wanna act up?”

He exhaled — low and slow, like you were getting to him.

You were.

You felt it.

His hand slid lower, not too low, but just enough to let you know he wasn’t playing fair.

“You tryin’ to get in trouble?” “Already in it,” you muttered.

And that was it.

That was all it took.

Next thing you knew, you were in the back of a sleek black car, windows tinted too dark to be legal, the city sliding past like it was watching you make a mistake.

You weren’t even nervous.

You should’ve been.

But you weren’t.

“Where we going?” you asked, a little breathy, a little buzzed, legs crossed and hand pressed to your thigh like you needed to keep your heart from leaping out.

“My place,” he said. “Is it nice?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you out the corner of his eye, smirk curling his lip like ‘you’ll see.’

And baby. You saw.

His house?

Was not a regular ass house.

This was not no “man cave, LED lights, half-eaten wings on the counter” type of bachelor spot. No.

This was grown. This was dangerous man with money and secrets levels of fine.

Soft lights. Dark wood. Cold stone countertops. Art on the walls that looked like it cost more than your whole rent for a good couple months. A massive floor-to-ceiling window facing the city skyline.

And it was quiet.

No TVs blaring. No music. Just the low hum of the fridge and the sound of your heels hitting the floor as you walked in like you hadn’t just made the worst best decision of your week.

“Smoke,” you breathed, doing a slow turn. “What the hell do you do?”

He took your jacket, didn’t answer. Just hung it on a hook and walked past you like he owned everything in the world.

“You want some water?” “Nah, I want you.”

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

But you were tipsy. And a little freaky. And he looked so good, standing there all quiet and fine with his jaw clenched and his eyes low like he could already smell what you wanted.

You took a few steps toward him.

And he didn’t move.

Just let you come close, slow, like you were testing something.

Your hands slid up his chest — slow — and lord that man was solid.

He looked down at you like you were a riddle he wanted to solve with his mouth.

You tilted your head, smiled. “Still tryna keep me safe?” He dipped his head a little, whispering — “I’m tryna keep you mine.”

Whewwwww.

He kissed you before you could even react.

Hard.

Like he’d been starving. Like he was mad you were out there in the world and not already pressed against him like this.

And you… Baby. You melted.

Gripped his shirt. Lifted on your toes. Moaned into his mouth like a little problem.

He picked you up so fast your brain lagged a second. Next thing you knew, your legs were around his waist, your back was on some soft-ass couch, and his mouth was on your neck like he was trying to figure out where to bite first.

“Goddamn,” you gasped, grabbing at him. “Why you this fine?” He just chuckled low, a little mean.

“You still drunk?” You nodded. “A little.” “You always act like this when you drink?” “…maybe.”

He pulled back, eyes dark and glinting.

“You gon’ let me find out?”

Let?

LET??

Sir.

You were already undone.

Already laying there squirming with your dress riding up and your pulse thumping like a bassline.

So you sat up. Slid your hands under his shirt. Let your mouth trail down his throat just enough to make him grunt.

“Why don’t you show me what you been handling these last two weeks?”

That was all it took.

He picked you up again like you weighed nothing, carried you through that fancy ass house like a fever dream, and the next thing you knew —

You were in his bedroom.

And girl.

It was worse.

Soft gray sheets. Pillars of shadow and light. More floor-to-ceiling windows with the moon shining right in.

Like something out of a movie.

Or a memory you’d been waiting to fall into.

He laid you down so gentle it made your heart ache. Palmed your thigh. Watched your face. Like he needed permission. Like he needed you to say yes even though your body already had.

You pulled him down by the chain around his neck. “You gone keep playing with me or what?”

And then — he stopped.

Just for a second.

Looked at you.

Really looked.

And he said—

“You sure?”

And girl. That’s when you knew.

You were cooked.

Because even though his voice was deep and mean and velvet-rich, there was care in it.

And that made you want him more than anything.

So you pulled him in and whispered, “Don’t make me ask twice.”

And he didn’t.

One second you were teasing him by that chain, and the next — you were on your stomach, hips lifted, cheek pressed to the plush of that expensive-ass comforter, looking back with your brows furrowed.

He’d pulled your dress up and your panties down like they offended him.

Didn’t even rush. Didn’t talk much. Just stood there behind you for a second, one big hand gripping the meat of your thigh like he was lining up a shot he was not gonna miss.

And then —

Lord.

That first stroke?

Deep. Slow. Painfully good.

You gasped into the sheets, fingers grabbing for anything, back arching nasty off instinct.

“Smoke —”

He exhaled real low. Did it again. Slid back in like he was tryna carve himself into your soul.

And you felt all of him.

Thick. Heavy. Dragging against every soft spot you had with a pace that was filthy in its control.

He fucked you like he had all night. Like he didn’t need to chase it. Like he was making you lose your mind first.

And babyyy — you were.

You were gasping into the sheets, body rocking forward with every stroke, thighs trembling, toes curling hard in the blanket.

“Shitttt — smoke—” He groaned behind you. “You takin’ it so good.”

That voice???

That deep, almost lazy voice like he was in a trance from the way you squeezed around him every time he slid back in??

It had you GONE.

You tried to push back. Tried to meet him stroke for stroke. But he caught your hips—held them down with both hands like 'nah, let me work.'

And he did.

Deep, slow strokes that ached. That made you whimper and slap the mattress with a shaking hand like—'goddamn.'

You were losing it.

Legs starting to give out. Back arched up so sweet your lower spine was humming. Face buried in the blanket, eyes rolling every time he bottomed out with a thick, quiet grunt.

“Fuck, baby, you feel — mm — you feel too good,” he muttered, a little strained now. Like your shit was really getting to him.

And it was.

You felt him twitch. Felt his grip tighten. Felt his rhythm falter just a little as he locked his hips deeper and held it.

Just pressed into your ass, thick and full and pulsing, like he wanted to live there.

But he didn’t come.

That man just pulled out slow, grunted under his breath — “mm-mm. Not yet.” And flipped you over.

Round two came fast.

Didn’t even give you time to breathe.

Your legs were still shaking. Your pussy still clenching at air like it missed him.

But he was back.

Kissing you messy now. Dragging the tip across your folds just to tease before sinking back in.

Faster.

Not too fast. But more urgent. More filthy. More 'I should’ve had you weeks ago and I’m making up for it now.'

You moaned loud, head thrown back, nails dragging down his back like — 'yes please thank you more.'

He buried his face in your neck, groaning now. Little, breathless sounds against your skin. Hands planted firm on either side of your head, his body caging you in.

He fucked you like he wanted to own every damn part of you.

Your moans. Your breath. Your arch. Your fucking soul.

And when he hit that spot?

When that thick dick curved just right and dragged over it a few times like he was taking notes??

You folded.

Tried to close your legs. Tried to twist away.

He didn’t let you.

Just grabbed your thighs and pushed deeper. Mouth at your ear now — “Where you goin’, huh?” “You was talkin’ all that shit — now you running?” “Take it. Take all this dick.”

You screamed.

Not loud. Not theatrical. Just real.

A raw, gutted moan from deep in your chest that came right with that sharp, perfect burst of pleasure that had you seeing stars.

Your orgasm hit hard.

Made your whole body clench around him like a fist. Back arched, hands clutching the sheets like you were scared you might float away.

And still — he didn’t come.

He kept going. Harder. Meaner. Like he was chasing it now, low growls spilling from his chest like thunder.

He buried his face in your neck again. Grunted once.

And finally — finally — he twitched inside you, hips stuttering as he filled you up with a hot, heavy pulse that made you moan again.

Just one long, breathless “fuckkkk.”

The room was quiet after that.

Except your breathing. And his.

Both of you laying there, sticky and tangled up in the mess y’all made, heartbeats racing like you just ran through the apocalypse hand-in-hand.

He kissed your shoulder. Real soft. Almost shy.

You laughed a little — voice hoarse. “You gon ghost me again?”

He looked up from your neck.

And that man smirked.

“After this?” he said, slow, cocky, voice low as hell. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You ain't even realize he pulled out until the bed creaked, real soft-like, and the heat of his body left you.

You blinked. Felt all loose and jelly-limbed, like your bones had melted under that big ass man. Face still buried in his pillow. You were still tryna process what the hell just happened.

Your legs twitched. Still trembling. Your whole pussy was throbbing, empty and wet and so overstimmed you could barely think.

And then —

You felt him.

That soft wipe of a warm towel between your thighs. A gentle little 'shh' when you flinched. Big hands bracing your thighs open like he was apologizing for fucking you so deep.

“Still sore?” he asked, real low. Like he was asking if you needed a minute, or a whole second round.

You hummed something that didn’t sound like English.

“Damn,” he chuckled under his breath. And you could hear the smug in it. But also — something softer.

The towel moved slow. Careful. Wiping you clean like you were something delicate. Like he gave a fuck if he hurt you.

And it hit you.

You never had this before.

Never had a man fuck you dumb and still hold you like he ain’t wanna let go. Never had someone take their time cleaning you up when the high wore off. Never had anybody kiss on your shoulder like you meant something right after they blew your back out.

It felt...nice. Too nice.

You sniffed. Stretched out lazy and boneless when he tossed the towel to the floor and leaned back over you.

“Don’t move,” he said, low. “You good?”

You nodded, still kinda floatin’. “Yeah…m’good…”

He kissed the top of your spine. Then your shoulder. Then your cheek.

One long kiss right between your brows.

You blinked up at him — soft, dazed. He looked…different now.

Still fine as hell. Still tatted and thick and built like a damn linebacker. But — softer.

His eyes weren’t hard like when you first met. His touch wasn’t cold. He looked at you like he saw something in you he wasn’t expecting.

Then he stood up — Still naked, dick still heavy and swinging, and lorddd you were tempted to climb back on that man —

But he just ran a hand over his face, muttered, “Be right back,” and went to grab something.

Came back in a pair of gray sweatshorts — that damn print was PRINTING — and tossed you the same kind but shorts...

“I ain’t got nothing cute, but you can wear these,” he said, dropping a folded-up black tee on the bed next to you. “I’ll get you some socks too if you want.”

And — like — You didn’t know whether to scream or suck his dick.

Cuz why the fuck did that feel so intimate? Why he look so good in the warm light? Why he still got lip gloss on his neck from earlier??

You put on the shorts. They were big, of course. Sat low on your hips. The shirt too. Soft and clean and smelled like laundry and cologne.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hair a mess. Lips swollen. Whole thighs out. And his shirt hangin’ off your shoulder like a confession.

Yeah. You looked fucked. And claimed.

You padded downstairs barefoot, the floor warm under your toes. His place was quiet. Clean. Minimalist but cozy.

Not the kind of space you expected from a man like him.

And he was already in the kitchen.

You leaned on the doorway, watching. Quiet. Just soaking it in.

He moved like he knew what he was doing—pulling shit from the fridge, turning the stove on, opening cabinets like he’d done this before.

“Not breakfast?” you teased, voice still a little hoarse.

He turned, a lazy smirk on his face. “Nah. You gon’ need real food after that.”

WHYYY he say it like thattttt. You bit your lip. Felt another throb.

He pulled out a container of pasta, some veggies, chopped chicken—like he was ready. He even poured you a glass of water. Sat it next to the barstool and gave you that look.

“Drink this before I bend you over that counter.”

Your legs damn near gave out again. “Yessir.”

He laughed. Walked up behind you while the pan heated. Kissed your temple. Then your jaw.

Then your neck, where he knew he left a mark.

You leaned back into him with a soft little sigh, the weight of his body behind yours like a safehouse.

He liked kissing, you could tell. The kind that didn’t rush. That meant something. Even if y’all hadn’t put a name to this thing yet.

You didn’t know his real name. Didn’t even know what he did for work. Didn’t know what any of this meant.

But right now, you were standing in a warm kitchen, wrapped in his shirt, belly rumbling, lips tingling, neck still sore from the way he kissed you while he stroked through you like he studied your body.

And he was cooking for you. Not because he had to. But because he wanted to.

This man — this quiet, deep-voiced demon of a man — was smiling a little while he stirred sauce in the pan like you didn’t just have your soul knocked into another timeline.

“Damn,” you mumbled. “What?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You looked him up and down. The shorts. The arms. The softness. The fact that he touched you like you were fragile after doing unspeakable things to your guts.

You sighed. “Nothing. You just…fine as fuck. That’s all.” you breathed out.

He chuckled. Walked over. Took your chin in his hand and kissed you slow, deep, with a hum that had your toes curling again.

Then he said — “Wait ‘til you taste how I cook.” Smirked. Turned back to the stove.

You sat down with your knees pressed together, whole body humming, thighs clenched.

You ain’t expect to get emotional behind some damn food, but here you were.

Sittin’ in this man’s dimly lit kitchen, in his oversized shirt, drinkin’ cold water while your insides still shivered from how he handled you in the bedroom — And the smell hittin’ your nose like somebody’s Southern auntie been hoverin’ over that stove for hours.

Garlic. Butter. Onion. A lil heat in the back of your throat. He threw something in that pan that was doing spiritual things to your spirit. Like it was hugging the parts of you that ain’t been held in a while.

You blinked. Fidgeted. Chewed on your thumbnail like you ain’t want your lip to quiver.

“You good?” he asked, lookin’ at you sideways while he stirred up some pasta in a cast iron skillet.

You nodded. Too quick. Voice a lil too light.

“Mhm…I’m fine…”

Lie. You was not fine.

You was bout two seconds away from cryin’ over sautéed chicken and perfectly seasoned noodles. What the fuck.

“I put a lil cayenne in there,” he said casually. “Not too much though. Just a kick.”

You swallowed hard.

“Yeah, okay, Chef Boyar-dick,” you whispered under your breath.

He heard you. Grinned. Didn’t say nothin’ — just looked at you with that smug ass I know what I did to you smirk.

Then he plated your food.

Real neat. Pasta twisted all pretty. Chicken stacked just right. Grated cheese on top. Sprinkled parsley like it was chopped with intention. He even wiped the side of the plate off with a damn paper towel like he was competing on MasterChef.

OH YOU WANTED TO SOB.

He slid it over to you with a fork and another glass of water. Didn’t even fix his own plate first.

“Eat, baby.”

Lorddd.

Your stomach fluttered. Your coochie fluttered. Your heart fluttered.

You scooped up a bite, let the noodles wrap around the fork, and took it to your mouth.

BAYBEEE.

Flavor exploded like a damn prayer on your tongue. Savory. Warm. Just the right amount of heat. Like the food was made by hands that knew what the fuck pain felt like.

You stared at the plate. Stared at the man.

He watched you. Quiet. Patient. Like he wanted to see your reaction.

You chewed slow, then swallowed. Put your fork down.

And then…

“Why you doin’ this?” you whispered. Voice low.

Barely above the hum of the stove fan.

His brow furrowed. “Huh?”

You licked your lips. Blinkin’ fast. Eyes glossed over.

“Why you bein’ all…sweet like this? Like — you dicked me down, cleaned me up, made me a plate — now you feedin’ me like I’m some kinda…favorite.”

He didn’t answer right away. Didn’t try to joke it off.

He walked back over, real slow. Took your chin in his hand again — soft. Held your eyes in his.

“Because I wanted to.”

Simple. Honest. Soft.

You stared at him.

“You makin’ it real hard not to fall for you tonight,” you whispered.

His thumb brushed your cheek. Then your lip. His eyes dropped to your mouth like he was ready to kiss you all over again.

He didn’t say nothin’. Just leaned in, real gentle, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Then your nose. Then your lips.

And when he pulled back, he smirked.

“Who said not to?”

SCREEEEEEEEEAMMMMMMMM.

taglist - @sertonins - @crimsonxm00n - @klssngss - @juicypinksblog @mingisg00dgirl - @stilestotherescue - @imperfectlyperfect78 @hoouno06 - @kirayuki22 - @christinabae - (lemme know if I forgot any of you)

#elijah moore #elijah smoke moore #sinners x reader #sinners imagine #sinners smut #sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #michael b jordan #elijah moore x reader #elijah smoke Moore x reader #smoke and stack #strangerexee #au fanfiction #michael b jordan x reader #Michael b jordan sinners #ryan coogler

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i-get-obsessed-fast · 3 months ago

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Classroom Talk | Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer drops your lunch off to your classroom filled with apparent love experts, who then question the man you’re with and tease you two for not being married yet…

A/N: idk why but I just thought of this, it’s adorable though. Not proofread too tired for that. LOL.

BYR(b4 you Reid): light teasing, Spencer getting kind of bullied by teens, and fluff :))

You were at your desk, deep in teacher mode. Grading assignments, updating the grade book, the usual rhythm of a productive day.

You glanced up and saw your students working quietly for once, either reading the latest chapter you’d assigned or scribbling their thoughts in journals. It was that rare magical moment every teacher silently prays for: peace.

Naturally, it didn’t last.

There was a knock at the door.

Every single head turned in unison. Including yours.

“Hello.” A familiar voice said, soft and polite, peeking into the room like he wasn’t about to cause utter chaos.

Spencer.

Your brilliant, shy, awkward boyfriend. Standing in your classroom.

You blinked, stunned. “What are you doing here?” You asked, smiling like this was the best little surprise.

“Someone.” He said, raising a brow and holding your bag up. “Forgot their lunch at home.”

You walked over to meet him halfway, shaking your head. “Wow, I didn’t even realize.”

His hand instinctively went to your waist as he handed you your lunch, you turned to face your students, you immediately regretted it.

Half of them were staring blankly. The other half wore smug little smirks, the kind you’ve seen way too many times this year.

You sighed, already sensing the storm brewing. “Everyone, this is Spencer.” You introduced him. He gave an awkward wave and shy smile, very much regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.

“Hi.” Came a chorus of teenage politeness, which was immediately shattered by

“Is that your husband?” Silas blurted. Of course it was Silas.

You chuckled. “No, not my husband.”

“Fiancé?” Someone else chimed in.

“Boyfriend.” Spencer said, trying to sound casual.

“Oooh!” “Awws” “no way” erupted from every direction.

Mia raised an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell us? We thought you were lonely!”

You blinked. “I-well- I didn’t think you needed to know about my personal life.”

“Why? We always tell you about ours.”

You stared at them. “That’s…true, unfortunately.”

“I always thought you and the basketball coach would be cute.” Someone tossed out.

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

You stepped in. “Okay! That’s enough. You’re scaring him”

The class laughed, clearly delighted.

You turned back to Spencer, lowering your voice. “Thanks for this. Lunch is in fifteen, have time?”

He smiled. “For you? Always.”

You motioned to the chair near your desk, and he sat, awkward but trying. You returned to your seat, praying your students would go back to their journals.

Nope.

Olivia’s hand shot up.

“Yes? Olivia?”

“Why is your boyfriend dressed like he’s coming from a funeral?”

You choked back a laugh, Spencer blinked at you, betrayed.

“Well.” You said sweetly. “Spencer?”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh…my job?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m with the FBI.” He said, a little more confidently. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Boring.” Someone muttered.

Your head snapped up. “Hey! Be nice. His job is actually super important.” You say going to your sweet lovely boyfriend’s defense because only you can pick on him.

“Yeah, shut up. Let him talk.” Silas said.

You raised a brow. “Appreciate the support, not the tone.”

Spencer smiled faintly. “What we do is analyze criminal behavior to help catch criminals. It’s called profiling.”

“It’s like psychology.” You added. “It’s really cool.”

“So you predict what people do? Do me!” Ethan asked.

“Uh…it doesn’t quite work like that.” Spencer replied.

Ethan sighed, immediately unimpressed.

“So you get to catch criminals?” Mia asked.

“Yeah. We do.” Spencer said, nodding.

“Cool.” Silas grinned. “Do you see crime scenes? Are they gross?”

“Very.” Spencer said.

And now they were really invested.

“What’s the worst you’ve ever seen?” Someone asked

Spencer opened his mouth.

“Nope!” You interrupted. “Do not answer that.” The class groaned. “Sorry, guys.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Mia asked.

You hesitated. “Four years. Now get back to work.”

“Four years and no ring? That’s sad.” Silas said. Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Are you guys scared of marriage or something?” Olivia teased. You and Spencer both looked equally offended.

“No.” You said crossing your arms. “We’re just…comfortable.” Spencer nodded. “We’re happy where we are. Right?” He asked, his head snapping to you for confirmation.

You smiled. “Right.”

“Well, if my boyfriend didn’t propose after four years, I’d dump him.” Mia declared. You shook your head. “When did this classroom turn into a relationship panel?”

“Yeah.” Spencer added. “How old are you guys? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

The room broke into laughter.

Finally, the bell rang. “Thank god.” You muttered, watching them pack up.

A few waved at Spencer, others giggled as they walked past. And then Olivia stopped right next to him.

“She’s a lovely woman. You should really put a ring on her finger.”

Then she was gone.

Spencer turned to you, you were already laughing.

“She’s not wrong.” You said making your way to him, grabbing his hand. “I am pretty lovely.”

“I am never stepping foot in this classroom again.” He said. “That was more stressful than interrogating a serial killer.”

“Oh, come on. I think they liked you.”

“Really? Because that comment about the basketball couch felt very personal.”

You laughed and nudged him. “You’re focused on the wrong thing.”

“What should I be focusing on?”

“Marrying me.”

He paused, then smiled. “Noted.”

You walked toward your classroom door, twisting the lock. Spencer was still by your desk, looking mildly traumatized.

“Are you okay?” You asked, trying not to laugh.

“I’ve been shot at less aggressively than I was questioned in here.” He replied, deadpan. “And I sensed one of your students wanting to fight me. I saw the glint in their eyes.”

You laughed. “Well, you held your own. I’m proud of you.”

You moved a chair next to Spencer, and took a seat, unwrapping your sandwich. He watched you for a second, then leaned in with a smile.

“So…four years no ring?” He said, repeating Silas’ line like he was testing it out loud.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you start.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. The experts have spoken. We’re on thin ice.”

“You’re right, should I just elope with the basketball coach?”

Spencer gave a dramatic gasp. “I knew it.”

You nodded. “He is tall, and charming.”

“Wow. Okay, now I am scared.”

You smiled, nudging your foot against his. “You know I don’t need a ring to feel secure with you, right?”

“I know.” He said softly, reaching out to brush your hand. “But also…I don’t not want to marry you someday.”

Your heart did a flip. You tried to play it cool, like your knees didn’t suddenly feel like jello.

“Yeah?” You asked, voice softer.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just…not because Olivia told me to. Although she is very convincing.”

“She is. Probably runs the underground student government.”

“Definitely. But I’ve thought about it before. And I want to do it the right way. You’d deserve something…meaningful. Not pressured by a bunch of freshman armed with sass and curiosity.”

You grinned. “I do love something meaningful.”

He leaned in slightly, teasing. “So…no courthouse wedding tomorrow after work?”

You thought about it. “Only if we go matching in some ridiculous couples costume.”

“That actually sounds incredible.”

You both laughed, the weight of the moment balanced by the natural ease between you. You leaned your head on his shoulder and exhaled.

“I liked seeing you here.” You murmured. “Even if they grilled you like a suspect.”

He chuckled. “Next time, I’m bringing backup. Maybe Morgan.”

“Oh please, if Morgan walked in here, half the girls would faint.”

He smiled, agreeing with you.

You then grabbed his hand. “Thank you for bringing my lunch.”

“Anytime. Next time I’ll bring a ring, just to keep them happy.”

You lifted your head. “If you propose in my classroom, I will throw a dry erase marker at you.”

“Romantic.” He whispered, his smile never leaving his face, you looked at him, and he kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you most.”

SO ADORABLE WTH

- Tag List ~

@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

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kazumist · 4 months ago

Text

THE ONLY EXCEPTION .ᐟ

✩ — you always had a habit of saying “i love you” to almost everyone you know—everyone except caleb. or in other words, the three times you refused to say “i love you” to caleb and the one time you do.

✩ — includes: caleb x f!reader. reader is mc but story is not canon compliant. fluff. silly and messy (also drunk) confessions. cw: mentions of alcohol but no consumption. wc: 2,902.

✩ — note: i got this idea otw to uni randomly during the week. thought it was cute :P

you always had a little habit of saying i love you or simply just love you to everyone.

a female colleague compliments you today? you’d chirp back, stop, i love you! thanks; you look great too! someone gives you a surprise gift? you’d squeal at the sight of the gift; i love it! and i love you! how did you know i wanted this? someone does an important favor for you last minute? a sigh of relief leaves you. oh my god, i love you! you’re a lifesaver!

it just slips out so easily for you. there’s nothing wrong with having love to give, right?

but despite this little habit of yours, you never told caleb that you loved him—not even in the small moments like what he usually sees you with others—and he's done way more things for you than them!

when caleb cooks you dinner? you’d peek from behind; oooh, it smells good—thanks for cooking dinner! when caleb lends a hand to ease your workload? you give him a tired smile. thanks, caleb. i appreciate it, really. and when caleb is the one doing those last-minute favors for you? you’d throw your arms at him, wrapping him in a hug. i owe you one, seriously! dinner is on me tonight! don’t get him wrong; he’s not that upset over it. it’s more like it makes him sulk about it.

because what could be so wrong with you telling him those three words?

caleb doesn’t really say it to you either. but it does make him wonder why you’d refuse to show that habit of yours to him. he knows you like the back of his hand; it’s not like anything was going to be different if you did say it to him. he was your friend too.

right?

well, caleb might be wrong on that.

caleb decided to keep track of the times when you would usually say “i love you” to others but don’t when it’s him.

the first was when he was helping you with some spring cleaning.

throwing out things that should’ve been gone long ago, helping you reach places you couldn’t, caleb doesn’t complain. “hey, this maple syrup expired ages ago. you still haven’t thrown it in the trash?” caleb asks you; currently he’s cleaning your fridge while you flip through the newspapers that accumulated over time.

“huh? oh! i.. honestly forgot i had that there,” you replied, a bit embarrassed at caleb finding it. but that’s exactly why he’s here—because if he wasn’t, then you probably wouldn’t have noticed that expired bottle of maple syrup. “it’s alright, you don’t have that much expired stuff in here anyways. but what you do have here is... well, not much. when was the last time you went out for some groceries, pips?”

“groceries? uhm... two weeks ago, if i recall it correctly. wait—oh yeah! i was supposed to go out to restock today!” you remembered as you stood up to double check the date today. “we can take a break first and go for a quick grocery run. what do you say?”

and that’s the reason why you’re now in the supermarket with caleb, with him pushing the cart and you checking the list you made.

let’s see... eggs? we haven’t reached that part yet. bread, check. milk, not yet. snacks, half way there. toiletries? we’re way too far from that aisle right now, so definitely not yet.

“what meals do you plan on having for the next few weeks?” caleb asks as you reach the vegetable section. “hmm… i’ve been craving stir-fry lately. so maybe some ingredients for that? i don’t usually make that much since work gets a bit too demanding at times and i’d usually eat out with colleagues instead.”

“i see.. what do you think about stir-fry for dinner later? i’ll cook,” he replies. and you know that he knows that you’d never decline his cooking. “deal! i’ll go check the fruit section while you’re at it.”

with now vegetables for some classic old stir-fry, one batch of six apples, and one pack of grapes in the cart, you and caleb reached the cereal section. your eyes scanned the brands displayed, checking whether it’s in your budget and if it looks good to buy. you walked ahead with caleb trailing you from behind as he pushed the shopping cart.

“hey, look over here, pips.” you heard him call you. turning around to face him, you see caleb was holding a familiar box of cereal. “wait... is that what i think it is?” you asked just to be sure. “uh-huh. the very same cereal that we used to eat as kids,” he confirms. you gasp, taking the box from him to check it.

“oh my god, caleb! i lo—” your eyes slightly widened. “i mean, i want it! is there a smaller box there? this is too big for me as someone who lives alone,” you quickly say.

one, caleb counted in his head.

the second time was when you two went out to the amusement park.

caleb had always had this competitive side when it comes to winning prizes with the game booths around. this time was no different—he was currently making sure that his aim would be just right for the nerf bullet to hit the bottle.

as he pulled on the trigger, the bullet was quick to hit the bottle but not enough to knock it over.

he knew that these games would usually be a silly scam. but hey, how could he resist when your eyes shined as you saw that cute little apple plushie that’s promoted as a prize? how could he resist when you were the one who said, “look, caleb! that apple plushie reminds me of you.” with a giggle as a cherry on top?

he couldn’t possibly resist that. so now he has decided that he’ll win that apple plushie so that you’ll have another thing that would remind you of him.

“better luck next time, mate,” the one running the booth said. but caleb isn’t gonna give up that easily—so he pays for another try. and this time, he’ll get that prize for you. you watched him from behind, glancing ever so often at how concentrated he looks. he then pulls the trigger again, the sound of the toy gun ringing through your ears.

the fake bullet shoots, and just when the owner of the booth was going to tell caleb another “better luck next time!”, the bullet knocks the bottle over. caleb lowers the gun from his line of vision. he tosses it back to the owner, who barely catches it as he was shocked that caleb actually won.

“i’d like the apple plushie that’s displayed, please,” caleb tells him, pride radiating off. the owner gets the plush and hands it over, congratulating caleb on winning (though it was mostly a grumble under his breath). “here you go.” he hands it over to you. you stared at him dumbfoundedly. “eh? i thought you won it because you liked apples?”

“i got it for you, silly girl. you said that it reminded you of me, right?”

“awww, you actually won it for me? how sweet of you! lo—” another short pause. “thanks, caleb!” you said instead, but he knew what you were about to say.

and you didn’t have to know that he used his evol just to get the prize.

two, caleb counts.

the third time was when he was taking care of you while you were sick.

as of the moment, you were currently burning up with a temperature of 38.9—which is quite bad. and to top that, you refuse to take your medicine due to the awful taste that it leaves on your tongue. “c’mon pips, i know you hate being sick but you need to take this,” he takes, holding the spoon filled with your medicine for you to take.

“but it tastes so bad,” you said. it was obvious that your nose was clogged from your cold and your throat was dry from your cough. “i know but how are you gonna get better if you don’t take your meds, hm?” he softly asks. “this might as well just be my death bed then,” you replied. caleb lightly chuckles at that. “now you’re being overdramatic, pips.”

“don’t care, i’m still not taking that.”

that was a lie because caleb soon managed to convince you to take your medicine anyway. it leaves a bad aftertaste on your tongue and caleb helps you drink some water to wash it down. you let out a yawn soon after, the drowsiness side effect of your medicine taking place. “feel sleepy now?” he asks again, his hand combing his fingers through your hair (a habit he can’t control sometimes).

“mhm.. i‘m gonna get some shut eye real quick...” you trailed off, eyes slowly fluttering closed. “sleep well, pipsqueak.”

“love…” you suddenly say, eyes still closed. but caleb knew better.

you didn’t get to finish that sentence. “thanks, caleb. i owe you dinner after i get better.”

three, caleb counts again.

you were drunk the one time you told caleb you loved him.

it was nearing two in the morning when he picked you up from the bar.

you went drinking with tara and simone as a way to spend some time together. however, you forgot to ask caleb to pick you up when you’re done. but it was a good thing that you had caleb as your emergency contact, so tara and simone were able to get in touch with him, asking him to pick you up in your stead.

“sorry! we didn’t know that she’s a bit of a lightweight. we would’ve stopped her if we knew.” tara apologizes as caleb approaches your table. “it’s okay; it looks like she forgot about that too,” he says with a sigh. swiftly bidding his thanks and farewell to your friends on your behalf, he tightly holds your waist to maintain your balance as he brings you to his car.

“caleb? is that you?” you voice was slurred, cheeks a bit redder than usual, and you couldn’t look at him straight. “yeah, it’s me,” caleb replies, unlocking his car and settling you on the passenger seat.

“are we going home?” you asked him. he hums in reply, “yep, we are. hold on tight, okay?”

as soon as caleb returned you to your place, he gently laid you on your bed. he searches for your makeup remover in your room and grabs a cotton pad to pour some product on it. his hands were gentle on you as you stirred from time to time as the cotton pad came into contact with your skin.

“hold still, pips. your mascara is a bit tricky to remove,” he says.

when caleb is done, he stays with you as he sits by your bedside. there was a comfortable silence as caleb admires you. you were probably sleeping now; the soft rise and fall of your chest was proof of that. yet when you shifted your head in his direction, caleb never would’ve expected what he was about to hear.

“you wanna know why i don’t tell you that i love you?”

“sure, pips.”

“i know i don’t say it much...” a yawn comes in between. “honestly, i only refuse to say it to you,” so my hunch was right. caleb thought. “yeah? and why is that?” he plays along, curious to see where this conversation would lead.

“because i feel like if i do say it... things would change. because if i told you that i love you, i know that.. it’s not like how i say it to others...” your words were still a bit slurred but caleb could decipher them. although he can’t seem to decipher what you mean by that.

you were drunk. you weren’t in your right mind. yet that stupid saying that he hears ever so often when he’s the one out for drinks echoes in his head; drunk words are sober thoughts. before his mind could trail any further, you spoke again.

“i love you, caleb.”

the way you said it was quiet and easy to miss, yet caleb caught every single word in his ear—he never misses a word you say. he didn’t—no, he couldn’t say anything. the shock on his face was too evident (though you couldn’t really notice it as your vision is still in a daze).

caleb doesn’t know if he should believe it.

this is what he wanted to hear, right? well, he got it. but he didn’t expect to hear it from your drunken state.

“i kno—”

“no, you don't,” you cut him off. “you have no idea, actually. i.. i don’t love you like how i love my friends. i love you more than that.” his breath hitches at your words. is this really happening? he still doesn’t know he should believe it. but solely because of the fact that caleb loves you too, he’s willing to accept whatever you would give him.

so whether this may or may not be due to the alcohol, he’ll be damned.

when the next morning came rolling around, your head throbbed.

everything was blurry when you opened your eyes. but you couldn’t mistake the familiar handwriting on a pink sticky note by your bedside table. for your hangover :) it said. you knew that was caleb’s handwriting from anywhere.

getting up, you took the medications that were stuck with the note and went to the kitchen. you glance at the bag—caleb’s bag, to be specific—that’s placed on the sofa. only by then did you wonder how you got home last night but you just assumed that your friends contacted caleb based on his bag on the sofa. the sound of eggs cracking and the stove being on made you aware of his presence in your place.

“hi.” you say, voice still raspy since you just got up. “hey there, pips. feeling better?”

“kinda. sorry that you had to take me home last night but thanks either way.”

“no biggie. good thing that you had me as your emergency contact, huh?”

“yeah..”

as caleb continues to busy himself in your kitchen to prepare some breakfast, you sat yourself by the table. “hey... did i do something stupid last night? you know, since i was drunk and all.” you could see caleb freeze for a moment before he replies. “nope. why do you ask?” he doesn’t look back.

caleb had a habit of avoiding your gaze whenever he lies. and that’s precisely what he’s doing right now. suddenly, it all came crashing to you like a strong wave. from the moment he arrived at the bar to the moment you fell asleep to him playing with your hair as a way to help you, you remembered it all.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not, pips.” he says as he finishes cooking the second egg. he was done with breakfast at this point so you took this as a chance to corner him. turning off the stove beside him, you caged him in your arms as they placed themselves on each of his sides. “cornering me now, huh?”

“i said something last night, didn’t i?”

caleb avoids your gaze. got you.

“you didn’t. you just rambled about some nonsense that i couldn’t really understand,” he tells you. “oh, so i didn’t say that i love you?” you pry further. caleb’s eyes seemed to widen at you as soon as he heard that. “i did, didn’t i?”

“you—you didn’t.”

“there’s no use in lying, caleb.”

the adam’s apple in his throat bobbed as he visibly gulped. “...fine. you did. happy? you say it anyone anyway.”

“yeah. who knew that all i needed was liquid courage?”

what?

“what? why do you look so shocked at that?” you asked him. “i.. i thought you were just drunk. i mean, you do say i love you to everyone over the smallest things.” he answers. “well, you were the only exception to that. i told you, didn’t i? i don’t love you like how i love my friends but more than that. more than friends. to tell you the truth, i’d rather die than be just friends with you.”

“i don’t wanna be your friend anymore, caleb—i want more than that.”

he was silent for a moment. but he leans closer, just close enough for your noses to touch. your hands weren’t trapping him now as he puts his forehead against yours, sighing in relief. your eyes never left his face as he did this. “can you repeat that for me, pips?” he asks. “repeat what?” you ask back.

“that you love me.”

“i love you—hmf!”

caleb presses his lips against yours, hands pulling you against his chest as he does so. your arms found themselves around his neck, while your hands traveled up to his hair. “say it again.” caleb pulls away. you found yourself giggling at him. “i love you—” another kiss. “again.” he says. “i love you—” and another kiss.

you pull away this time, giving him a playful glare. “hey! you can’t just ask me to repeat myself and then repeat kissing me as well!” caleb chuckles at that. “sorry, i just... always wanted to do this with you.”

caleb presses one final kiss to the corner of your lips. “i love you too. more than you realize.”

#( writings )#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb #x reader

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oikarma · 3 months ago

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how you get the girl | pt.2

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what is up with your ex-situationship's timing?

a/n: time to lock in and actually work on this fic LOL.

part one / part two

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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yourinstagram to new beginnings

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lilyzneimer will miss having you as a neighbor </3

yourinstagram oh but lily no distance could separate us yourinstagram i'll call you so often you'll get sick of me lilyzneimer you already do yourinstagram oh. so.

hattiepiastri what happened to "catch flights not feelings"

yourinstagram in the making of this post no feelings were caught hattiepiastri but you are catching a flight yourinstagram it's for my freaking job let me BREATHE

yourfriend chef ramsey

yourinstagram ❤️ come over and i'll let you try some, they're sooo good

lando missing you in shanghai

yourinstagram you called me hours minutes ago lando wish you'd come visit yourinstagram what, are we in an established relationship? hattiepiastri OOOH CLOCKED!!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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yourinstagram home is where the heart is

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yourfriend so much fun with you!

yourinstagram can't believe we live so close now

hattiepiastri but i'm literally in aus.

yourinstagram didn't say where my home was, read the caption again hattiepiastri sorry queen ☹️

lando but that's not where mine is?

yourinstagram lando have you been listening to ts recently lando maybe yourinstagram didn't peg you for a lover boy @/oscarpiastri come here lilyzneimer don't make fun of his music taste yourinstagram who, oscar's? don't you worry, i was just sharing information so oscar could bully lando oscarpiastri Thanks, mate. yourinstagram good lad! lando ...

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

deuxmoi Well, what do we think?

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user1 cheating already? gah. men.

user2 well maybe kylie's had a change of mind we never know. might be an inside joke or something

user3 she VEHEMENTLY hates green user4 wow fancy vocab user2 i'm just saying, maybe there's another meaning.

user5 are we sure its timothee

user6 ma'am this is a wendy's

user7 where even was he

user8 he posted his poker night at chateau marmont then dipped so no idea user9 on his story he posted a pic at an airport so prob not in LA anymore

user10 what was that girl he was hooking up with called again? swore i heard her talking in one of her tiktoks how she loved green

user11 that's crazy user12 delulu 101 user13 think her name was y/n or something just google it

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

close friends only

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yourinstagram me rn

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lilyzneimer ...what now

yourinstagram TURN OFF DND AND RESPOND TO ME

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tiktok

@/chalametss timothee and kylie spotted at a concert

user1 guess it was an inside joke after all

user2 what user3 there was a rumor going around that he was buying stuff in her least favorite color user4 what even are these theories

user5 mom i don't like what i'm seeing

yourtiktok @/lilyztiktok bro this comment has been deleted

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

lando Shanghai P4. Not the best pace today. We got off to a bad start but made what we could. Good job, Oscar.

user1 ohhh the first pic

user2 ovaries just exploded

user3 lando norizz who? he looks at me like that and i drop dead

user4 You got it mate

oscarpiastri Thanks Lando!

user5 mclaren's 2025 wdc + wcc

yourinstagram congrats! wish i could've been there

lando come to suzuka? user6 @/maguiwhateverheruseris keep an eye on your man user7 she's actually really pretty...why y'all hating? user8 no one's hating?? yourinstagram i'll see

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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yourinstagram insert motivating gym quote

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hattiepiastri oooh SPICY

yourinstagram 💓💋

lilyzneimer i approve of p3 wholeheartedly

yourinstagram almost forgot i had him blocked for a moment and worried that he'd see it lilyzneimer what are you worrying about?? you don't owe him anything

lando coming?

lando to suzuka? yourinstagram why'd you phrase it like that lando 😉 oscarpiastri Can you guys not. yourinstagram pop off oscar, tell him off lando 😔

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: got kinda messy...

#lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #lando norris #timothée chalamet #timothee x you #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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fulgrims-big-naturals · 6 months ago

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Thinking about how fulgrim is a fucking magpie and all his decisions are sword based. He joined the imperium because the emperor had a sword so cool it made him cry. Ferrus was his favourite brother because he made him a really cool sword. He touched the spooky chaos artefact whispering promises of power because it was a sword. And then that one time he let go he realised what he was doing and was like “oh shit I have to kill Horus” but the fucking eidolon was like “wait my lord you forgot your sword” and fulgrim was like “oooh a sword” and then got laer bladed again and was like “haha what was I talking about? I feel so empty. Maybe if I had more arms to hold more swords with I’d feel better”

#fulgrim #30k #40k #horus heresy #warhammer

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jo-com · 1 year ago

Text

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ ➛ Shots

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: You guys are used to having people send out free drinks because they fancy Oscar, but when it was your turn he did not like it one bit. (Inspired by the oneshot I’ve read, I forgot who the author was sorry😭)

Genre: Fluff

Note: nothing, just look out for grammatical errors and this is not proofread

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

───── ─ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ─ ─────

The sun radiated brightly emitting a soft glow that shined over the flesh of your skin— it was creating a rather medium type of shade the longer it sets on your body.

You don’t mind it though, as long as you were relaxed and rested in the embrace of you boyfriend; everything was just okay.

You and Oscar, along with his fellow drivers decided to have a day off at the beach. It was trip that has been long overdue, due to their busy schedules the trip was postponed one to many times.

So when they had their day off, the lot of them took advantage of it and agreed to pay the beach a visit— enjoying the calming atmosphere that surrounds the beach and having to spend time with their significant others. The whole afternoon was nothing but perfect.

After playing volleyball, you guys decided to just chill near the bar lounge and gossip about anything that comes to mind.

You and Oscar sat at the middle in between Carlos and Lando. As they talk more and more, your eyes started to drift off; the sound of their voices started to mix the other background clamoring.

Your eyes were closed but was still tentative— you could still feel the brush of air that lightly ran over your skin along with Oscar’s fingers that circulates at the curve of your back.

With a low hum, you acknowledged his gesture and was pleased to let him know that you appreciate it.

As time passes by, they were all still happily chatting; laughing at each other’s joke and a bit of yelling but playful one’s of course. Everything seemed to be going so great.

Well not until one of the staffs walked towards their way, holding a tray that consists of one drink.

The whole group looked curiously as the man settled the drink in your table. The loudness of their voices suddenly died down—all eyes looking intently at the man whose just doing his job.

With the sudden quietness, curiously you fluttered your eyes open. Not being able used to the sound of silence, you propped your body up and was now leaning your whole body at Oscar’s chest.

Your eye’s widened as all attention was onto you— you felt the intense feeling of being stared at back of your head.

“Good day ma’am, that gentleman over there wanted to give you this” he spoke, his hand then went to his vest and pulled out a piece of paper.

The waiter handed you the note and left, right after you took the piece of paper.

“What does it say?” Max asked, just as curious as the others.

“I’d like to know as well” oscar spoke, his tone laced with both curiosity and jealousy.

“Well…” you trailed off and then proceeds to open the folded paper.

‘Hey hot stuff, can i have your number??’

You giggled at the childish note, making your friends cock their head to the side, anticipation rushed over them as they try to read the expression off your face.

Meanwhile Oscar was not having it, he caught a glimpse of the note and saw what was written over it. Oh he was not happy at all.

“It’s nothing, just some guy asking for my number, it’s stupid really” you spoke, brushing off the note like it was nothing, i mean it was nothing well for you it was.

For Oscar, it was like all hell broke loose, did that guy not notice Oscar or something?

All the others just laughed; you along with them. It was just a harmless attempt to get to you, it’s not that big of a deal. Oscar gets those every-time and it’s fine cause you know he wouldn’t act on it or anything.

You we’re about to reach for the drink when you felt Oscar’s hand grabbing it first. You turned to his direction and raised your brows at his action.

“Oooh someone’s jealous~” Lando teased, repeating it two more times before laughing out loud. The others heard the commotion that lando started and played along with his jokes.

Oscar rolled his eyes, completely denying his emotion. “I am not jealous, i just think it’s stupid,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool— even though you could tell his true feeling just by looking at his face.

“Yeah right” Carlos replied, earning a fit of giggle from around the group.

“You’re not actually jealous? Are you baby?” You spoke teasingly, chuckling a little at your own words.

“Like i said, i am not” he said in a monotone voice; he was acting childish it was adorable. In your eyes it was— it wasn’t in his.

You then slowly shifted your body to face his and snaked your arms that rested on his shoulder blades. “Don’t take it at heart baby, you know I won’t actually give him my number right?” You whispered, loud enough for him to only hear.

“I know…” he sighed, his arm settled in the plush of your thighs; squeezing the soft surface to find comfort.

“I just don’t like it that i was here and he still asked you, am I invisible or something?” He added. His head hung low to avoid your stare.

A soft giggle left your lips as you grazed your finger over his chin and slowly lift it up, so you could be eye to eye. “Now you know what i feel when someone does that to you, but baby rest assured that i am yours and only yours.”

Oscar slowly smiled and hugged your body close to his,”i love you” he muttered— the hug getting tighter to which you of course accepted happily.

“I love you too, my love” you smiled and pecked his lips; it was short but meaningful kiss of assurance.

The whole day then went fine, sure they were teasing him non stop but it doesn’t affect him that much like earlier because you were there to assure him every-time.

…

Creds to the real owners ideas, this is just my version of it! Hope you like it guys sorry for not posting to much I’ve been in a writers block😭😭

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wonderjanga · 7 months ago

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So Ive had this prompt stuck in my head, dunno if you've done it before, but:

Billy unexpectedly powers down due to a villain's weapon. But instead of being, well, scruffy little billy, he ends up looking like a greek child with the toga (?) and all. What would the JL reaction be?

This whole incident started half a year ago with the divine beings in his head arguing about something. Arguing was a surprisingly common occurrence despite the fact that most of these guys were over thousands of years old. He tended to normally tune them out whenever this was happening.

Achilles: “BILLY!”

Marvel: *startles* “Yes, Achilles?”

Achilles: “Chiton or toga?”

Marvel: “Huh?

Mercury: “Chiton or toga? We’re making you a gift. Aren’t we like so kind?”

Marvel: “A gift…?” *sounds weary* “I don’t like the sound of that. What are you planning?”

Zeus: “Nothing!”

Marvel: “Solomon?”

Solomon: “It really is nothing. This will actually aid you in case of any accidents while in field.”

Marvel: “Okay then…”

Hercules: “NOW PICK!”

Marvel: “Alright, alright, dang. Uh… What’s a chiton?”

Zeus: “What’s a- What’s a chiton? I’ve never felt such a shame for one of my children before.”

Marvel: “I’m not your kid, but okay.”

Solomon: “Billy, a chiton is a tunic that was worn traditionally by the Greeks.”

Marvel: “Oooh. Uh… okay then I pick that one.”

Zeus: “Ha ha, suck it Atlas!”

Atlas: “I also wanted him to pick the Chiton…?”

Zeus: “I know. I just don’t like you. I thought that was obvious by now.”

Billy didn’t know that Robin was like five feet away and watching this entire interaction go down. To Damian, this grown ass man was just having a full conversation with himself, oblivious to the world. He reported this behavior to his father later.

Batman: “That’s normal.”

Robin!Damian: “Pardon?”

Batman: “That’s normal for Marvel. Think nothing of it.”

Anyways, fast forward six months. Billy forgot about the gift thing the Gods were talking about. Mostly because they hadn’t even given him the gift. Then the time came when Billy was forced to be detransformed. All because of a stupid villain’s machine going haywire. Sivana could do better. So now, Billy was standing in front of the JL who had surrounded him in a half circle.

(Ancient Greek is in italics)

Billy: “Uh… Hello?” *doesn’t even realize he’s decked out in the Ancient Greek drip, complete with the chiton from earlier*

JL: *staring in befuddlement*

Supes: “He’s been de-aged?”

WW: *steps forward* “Brother?”

Mercury: “Okay, Billy, stare at her for like three seconds and then be like you’re Zeus‘s kin?”

Billy: *doesn’t even know why he’s doing this but does the three second stare* “You’re Zeus’ kin?”

Mercury: “You’re my favorite champion now.”

WW: “I am. I am Diana Prince. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?”

Solomon: “Thavma is a nice choice.”

Zeus: “So is Keraunos. Which is arguably better because it means lightning.”

Billy: “Thavma, or Keraunos. Either is fine.”

Flash: *whispering to Batman* “Spooky, what’re they saying?”

Batman: “I don’t know. I’m versed in Greek, not Ancient Greek. I can just barely make out an eighth of the words they’re saying.”

Soon after all of this, he was taken to the Watchtower. The JL dropped him off in a rec room and assigned Robin to watch him so the team could go to a meeting room to discuss the whole ordeal.

Robin!Damian: *looking him up and down*

Billy: *can feel the judgment through Robin’s mask* “What is it?”

Robin!Damian: “What?”

Billy: “I said what is it?”

Robin!Damian: “Tt. A language barrier.”

Billy: *frog blinks* “Language barrier…?”

Solomon: “I’ll just turn off the Ancient Greek for you.”

Billy: *clears his throat* “Can you understand me now?” *slight Greek accent still there*

Robin!Damian: “More clearly. Yes.”

Billy: “Cool, now what is it?”

Robin!Damian: “Pardon?”

Billy: “What is it? I can tell you’re staring at me judgmentally through that thing on your face.”

Robin!Damian: *visibly bristles* “I am not.”

Billy: “Yes, you are.”

Robin!Damian: “I am not.”

Billy: “You are.”

Robin!Damian: “Am not.”

Billy: “Yuh huh.”

Robin!Damian: “Nuh uh-” *realizes he let that leave his mouth* “Why are you acting like a child?

Billy: “I am a child.”

Robin!Damian: *stares at him for a couple moments* “The reason I am staring at you judgmentally, is that I had previously assumed you had been born an adult.”

Billy: “Who told you that?”

Robin!Damian: “Nightwing.”

Billy: *remembers he’s not supposed to know who that is* “Who?”

Robin!Damian: “He’s someone you’ll meet when you’re an adult.”

Billy: “Okay…?”

*silence*

Somehow, the two ended up crawling in the vents together. You couldn’t even ask Billy how it happened.

Robin!Damian: “Crawl faster.”

Billy: “I’m trying.”

They spent a while up there, crawling around, eavesdropping, stopping every now and then in the kitchen for snacks.

Robin!Damian: “This is chocolate.” *hands him a chocolate bar*

Billy: *eyes literally shining as he looks at the bar because he rarely gets to have chocolate*

Robin!Damian: “You open it like so.” *opens his own bar* “Now come. We must continue on the move. Back to the vents.”

This went on until the JL started to look for them.

Flash: *searching the rec room frantically because they should’ve been here*

Robin!Damian and Billy: *descend from the vents*

Robin!Damian: “What do you need speedster?”

Flash: *screams*

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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pedriache · 8 months ago

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franco colapinto where he’s talking about something and hasn’t stopped since buuuuut reader doesn’t seem to mind at all and only shifts her focus when something interrupts, like a phone call? love u and ur writing 🤍

Company — Franco Colapinto.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is a talker, and you were a listener. Unfortunately, people seem to need you at the worst moments.

Word count: 390+

Disclaimer/s: fluff , franco yapping

A/N: AHHHH i love talkative!bf x listener!gf tropes.. my second franco post in 1 day hi!

You loved winter nights. You certainly hated the weather, but the nights themselves where you were laid up in bed with hot coca and a Christmas movie on? They were the best. Even better, was when your boyfriend was keeping you company.

One small downside to it was the movie got paused every two minutes due to Francos absolute need to talk out everything (not that you really minded).

“The thing I don’t understand is why he has the maturity level of a six year old, you know?” The brunette taps his lips as he speaks, his eyebrows furrowing. “And! How did they not kick him out of the North Pole faster just because of how annoying he is?”

You were watching Elf.

He was complaining about Elf.

And you let him. Because hearing your boyfriend speak was the best gift the world had ever granted you. The movie had been paused twenty-five minutes ago, yet he still hadn’t stopped.

A small, amused smile graced your lips as your head resting on his shoulder, tilted up to meet his gaze. You nod in understanding, humming a short, “right?”

“And the fact that they even allowed him into their home is unbelievable, I would never do that.” He was getting passionate now, his expression turning seriously distraught.

Just as he went to start speaking again, your phone rings on the bedside table. Franco’s mouth shuts, and the lack of speaking has a frown replacing your smile.

Letting out a huff of annoyance, you reach over to grab your phone. “Sorry, it’s my mom..”

“It’s okay, answer it.” He nods his head in the direction of your phone. “I’ll go reheat our cocoa.”

“Thank you!” You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pressing the green button.

Seven minutes pass before Franco returns and you end the call with your mother. He slides back into bed, handing you your mug, “what did she need?”

“Just asked me how I was doing, I forgot to text her today.” You chuckle, “anyways, continue your rant?”

The brunettes eyebrows furrow, “Rant?”

“Uh, yeah, about Elf? Buddy?”

The faintest hint of recognition flashes across the boys eyes, “oooh! I forgot what I was saying. Hit unpause?” Although a bit disappointed, you do just that, cuddling into Franco’s side as his arm wraps around your shoulder and the movie began to play.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x y/n #franco colapinto one shot #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto x reader #blurb #formula one #formula racing #formula 1 #f1 #f2

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luveline · 1 year ago

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oooh what about a lil blurb about bombshell r and spencer where it's the first time in their relationship that one of them is super sick and the other has to take care of them?? if you're feeling up for it ofc!! love u jade <333

ty for requesting<3<3 fem, 1k

“I’m sicker than a sick dog. I’m half cough.”

Spencer frowns at his phone where it lays on speaker at the breakfast table. “You are? What kind of cough?”

“It’s awful, I can’t tell you. You’ll stop loving me.”

Spencer smiles even though he wants to grimace. He told you he loved you a few days ago, and you hadn’t said it back, but you certainly hadn’t stopped liking him. You’re more obsessed with him than before, he’d argue. It’s a great feeling, almost as good as an I love you in return would’ve been.

(He doesn’t blame you for not saying it. You’ve been officially dating for less than a month. He shouldn’t have said it, only he’d been lying in your bed about to go to sleep with your hand in his and he’d never felt anything like it, not home but safe, not home but comfortable, and so so wanted.)

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer says.

“I’m gonna order some soup I think. What are you gonna do today?” Your voice is thick like you can’t breathe through your nose, but still yours.

“I’m gonna put my shoes on and come see you, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

It’s a no brainier. “What soup do you want, Y/N?”

He says your name like a compliment. You laugh down the line, which turns into a cough, and a pained moan. “Any kind of soup, babe. You’re really gonna come and see me?”

“Someone has to take care of you. Ideally me.”

“Too right.”

When Spencer gets to your apartment thirty rushed minutes later, you’re already worse. He knocks on your door and you answer with a hand covering your face, your breath audibly shallow. “I forgot that being sick makes you ugly.”

Spencer takes your wrist in his hand kindly. “Nothing can make you ugly. Come on, let me see.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

You aren’t pretty, you’re stunning. You’re gorgeous. You’ve been the most beautiful woman Spencer’s ever seen since the moment he saw you, not just because of your looks, of which you take great care, but because of your heart, how kind you’d been to him and continue to be. Your confident personality has never once made you cruel. He couldn’t say the same for most people, so you could have snot running down your lips and a zit the size of Quantico on your forehead and he’d still think you were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“Come on,” he says again, “I know you’re still beautiful.”

You let him pull your hand down, unveiling your puffy eyes and chapped nose. “I don’t know how I got sick so fast.”

The tote bag he’d brought with him slips into his elbow and pulls down his sweater sleeve as he grabs your shoulder. “You said you looked ugly.”

“I do!”

“All you do is lie.” He gives you a small smile. Am I doing this flirting thing right?

“I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Your audible heartbreak is convincing. “I’ll still kiss you.” His desperation is even more evident than yours. “I’d love to kiss you.” Even if it’s usually you who kisses him.

You close your eyes and lean in for a kiss at the same time. Just one kiss, firm for a millisecond, no parting lips or tongue to be seen but just as good a kiss as any other. Spencer must’ve had about thirty of them now, yet a kiss from you never feels real.

“I’ll look after you if you get sick,” you promise, pulling away.

He was counting on it. He hates germs, hates being sick, but he loves you. Whatever happens is out of his hands.

You seem a little unsteady on your feet, now Spencer’s looking at you. You’re wearing loose white pyjamas with blue flowers, and on your feet you have a pair of shoes somewhere between slippers and boots, brown fabric with fluffy white insides he’s seen you sporting on the jet from time to time when you’re at your most achingly tired.

You look adorable and tipping. He eases out of his shoes, sliding the bag of tinned soup, crackers and about seventy dollars worth of cold medicine onto the sideboard so he can put his hand under your arm.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, wrapping you in a supportive hug.

“Forward,” you tease.

You shouldn’t. Spencer thinks about intimacy with you and goes insanely pink everytime, though you’re far from new to one another. He especially doesn’t wanna think about it as you cross your room and flop down into bed with a tired sigh. “Come lay down?”

“I’m wearing jeans.”

“Did you sit down on the subway?”

“No, I drove here.”

“Come on, Spence. Your germs are fine.” You smile at the ceiling as he sits down at the top of your bed. “You drove here? You hate driving.”

“It was quickest.”

You drop your head into his lap. Your breathing is laboured.

“You okay?” he asks you.

“Just missed you.”

“I brought you some stuff. Vapour rub and decongestant spray, painkillers, vitamins, everything.” He leans down as he wraps his arms over your front, a promise to look after you. “Try to take a deep breath, angel,” he advises sympathetically. “You sound really out of breath.”

“Too much standing up.”

“Standing up can be good for you when you’re sick. It stops you from getting idle diseases and bed sores, and walking is even better for you if you can manage it, it helps unclog your sinuses.” He finishes his fact, and he looks down at you all poorly in his lap, remembering very quickly how lucky he is to have found someone who listens. You didn’t interrupt. You wouldn’t have even thought about it, he’s sure. “But no more standing up or walking around. I’m gonna get you anything you need. You’ll be better in no time.”

You give him your own grateful smile. “Thank you.” You scrunch up your nose.

“Are you gonna sneeze? I got balsam tissues.” The damage to your nose has already been done. “Do you have any chapstick? We’ll rub some on your nose to stop it from getting any drier.”

Your wrinkled nose worsens. “Thank you for coming to look after me,” you say weakly.

He wants to say you’re his best friend in the whole world, but you’re more than that now. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, ducking down to plant a kiss near your eyebrow. “I always want to look after you. This is just the first time you’ve let me.”

You smile contentedly, your voice falling to a whisper. “Will you tell me you love me again?”

Spencer doesn’t think he’s in any position to deny you. “I love you,” he says truthfully. “Thank you for letting me come over.”

You turn your face into his arm. “Thank you for wanting to, handsome.”

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds

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