#but I always wondered if that was just for that moment and the rest of the time he's just like eh

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: you’re used to me disappearing for months but I hope by now you can trust that I’ll always come back x

warnings: reader is a victim of misogyny (aren’t we all)

In A World Of Boys

Doctor Spencer Reid. His name alone sends your heart thrumming as the elevator ascends, your shoes tapping against the metal ground with excitement and impatience in equal measure. It isn’t unusual for a case to have called the team in at the crack of dawn, but that was not something you ever imagined you’d actively look forward to. Then again, you couldn’t have counted on the sunrise casting a soft pink, almost heavenly glow to illuminate the office that seemed to converge around one man in particular the moment you saw him.

He approaches you with a warm smile, one mug held to his lips and another held in an outstretched hand, for you. Made just the way you liked it; not that you ever verbalized such details, someone’s eidetic memory just thought to pay attention to how you prepared your hot drinks until it was a task that could be taken off your hands entirely.

“Good morning.” Spencer greets you, a playful lilt in his voice at just how early this morning is.

“Morning, and cheers.” You share a light chuckle as you clink your mugs together in a gesture of soft comradery, your gazes locking as you take a simultaneous sip.

Such a thing is officially a symbol of trust, but the look in Spencer’s eyes is enough to hold you still if the ground was ripped out from beneath you. His curls are a little disheveled, as always, and his tie is as crooked as ever. Ruggedly handsome would be an accurate description, if you didn’t know Spencer better than that, know him to be so much gentler than such a roughened description. And your heart sings for him.

A tradition you’ve come to appreciate amongst the BAU during longer flights is sharing stories of their shared pasts. The tales are typically hilarious at the expense of one team member or another, but it is all in jest, and as the newest member of the team, you love hearing about their funniest moments from before you had known the people who have welcomed you so openly.

“Oh, we have to talk about the pool incident! What was her name, Spence?” JJ asks with a mischievous glint in her eye, the team’s attention pulled entirely to Spencer.

You can’t withhold the shocked expression on your face, you’ve not heard of any previous romantic encounters in Spencer’s life; this should be interesting.

“It was Lila, wasn’t it? C’mon, Spence, it’s been years, you can tell us now!” JJ presses, the rest of the team egging her on, but you stay quiet, your interest piqued to the extent that you can’t utter a word.

“Lila was an admirably strong woman, but as much as I hate to disappoint, there’s really nothing more to tell.” Spencer shrugs, smile unreadable.

In his former years, such a question would have flustered him, but not anymore. His answer is enough to fluster you, however. A man who doesn’t kiss and tell, and is so quietly firm in such a resolve, is one to keep in mind.

As if to make matters worse, Spencer then rises from his seat on the jet and strolls past you, making the effort to lean away from you - in case any sudden turbulence should unsteady him, he won’t risk even nudging you - on his journey to the galley. And the way he walks, the delicate trail of his cologne lingering in his wake when he passes your seat, it’s dizzying.

This is a moment that you know you will never forget, and you can’t help envying the fact that Spencer can so effortlessly recall every moment spent with you in the depths of eidetic memory. It’s almost ritualistic, how you lie in bed every night and replay your most treasured moments with Spencer, to send yourself to a peaceful sleep in which you hope to dream of him. Part of you wonders if he ever replays moments with you in his mind, with more clarity than you can ever hope to possess.

Little do you know, you are his favorite film.

On nights when insomnia strikes, you are the guaranteed remedy. When it is for you, Spencer’s eidetic memory is nothing short of a gift. He has a library dedicated to you, containing every look in your eyes, every micro-expression, every variation of your laugh, your smile, every word you have ever said in his presence. Sometimes, it takes him hours to decide which memory of you he’ll replay before he allows himself to sleep.

Neither of you are aware of how many nights you have spent lying awake in the same hours, focussing on the very same memories. While you absentmindedly play with the little flower charm on the necklace that Spencer bought you for your birthday, his gaze will drift to the special edition of Frankenstein that you bought him, for no reason other than it made you think of him. Of course, Spencer already had a copy, but the one from you lives on his bedside table. He had the edition completely memorized in a matter of minutes, but he has devoted more time to rereading that book than he has any other, because you gifted it to him. Sometimes, Spencer traces the spine and wonders where you’d held it before gifting it to him; if that will be as close as he ever comes to the blessing of one day holding your hand.

One of your most vivid memories with Spencer - and one that you frequently use to fall asleep with a smile on your face - first came to be during your second week working with the team. You didn’t know Spencer very well then, but you knew enough to be besotted by him; you knew that from the moment his eyes first met yours. A case required an undercover mission centered around you, as the only member of the team to fit the unsub’s type. While you could have handled the mission on your own, Spencer insisted that he be placed undercover inside the club you were set to enter, posing as a member of the public, to ensure you had immediate backup if you needed it. The undercover mission itself went without a hitch, though Spencer spent the duration of it trying his very best not to crush the glass he pretended to nurse in his hand as he watched the unsub flirt with you mercilessly, and without an ounce of respect. When the unsub was arrested and dragged out of the bar, you and Spencer followed, and he went to one of the government-issued vehicles to grab his FBI jacket for you while advising you to stand in the doorway and wait. He didn’t want you getting cold in your pretty dress, but that was a detail he kept to himself.

As you stood in the doorway, leaning against a wall with your arms crossed over your chest, the wind caught the thigh-high slit in your dress, exposing the skin of your thigh only momentarily, but it was enough for some sleazy, drunk middle-aged man to leer out you.

“Sexy lady!” He had called out to you in a slurred voice, opening his arms to you, beer bottle in hand.

And, as every woman has learnt to do, you gave him your best, tight lipped, polite smile.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” You answered as evenly as you could.

In an instant, the sleaze’s smirk was gone, replaced with an almost disgusted frown.

“Stupid slut.” He muttered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, but in the time it took for your eyes to widen, Spencer had pinned the man’s hands behind his back and sent the beer bottle shattering on the ground - collateral damage from shoving the sleaze into the nearest wall.

“You are under arrest for drunk and disorderly behaviour, as well as sexual harassment, and absolutely any other charge I can find when I dig up every morsel of your existence.” Spencer’s words were eerily quiet, but they were sharper than any you’d ever heard, dripping with a venom you didn’t imagine he was capable of possessing then.

After tossing the drunk misogynist into the back of one of the police cars still on the scene from your undercover mission, Spencer walked over to you and draped his FBI jacket over your shoulders, tugging it around you with a gentleness that completely juxtaposed what you had just witnessed.

“I’m sorry.” He’d said quietly, warranting a confused frown from you, that urged him to elaborate. “I’m sorry that you were treated in such an abhorrent way, and that you had to see me like that.”

Your frown melted into an adoring smile. “Spencer, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Thank you for defending me from a man that I doubt realizes he even did anything wrong. While he might be the scum of the earth, you-” You gently poked his chest through his shirt, “-are a gentleman.”

Spencer had thought then that his heart couldn’t possibly soar higher than that, but oh, how wrong he had been.

Coincidentally, one of Spencer’s favorite memories of you is one you can recall very little of. It was the only occasion on which Spencer had politely declined the team’s invitation to a local bar for drinks in an evening. He had been rereading the copy of Frankenstein you’d bought him, comfortably nestled on his couch with a lingering smile as he sought pieces of you in between the lines of text, when his phone rang.

Seeing your name, Spencer picked up in a microsecond.

“(Y/N)? Is everything alright?” His mind was immediately reeling. Had something happened? Were you safe?

A sniffle came through the phone, and his heart shattered.

“Jus’ so lonely.” Your voice was slurred by the alcohol you’d consumed, but in the sweetest way. Your words did little to ease the anxiety swirling in Spencer’s mind, because every time he had seen you drink, you had been the giggliest mess he’d ever known; you had never been the stereotypical sad-drunk, as far as he knew.

“Lonely? Aren’t you at the bar with the team?” He questioned, because he could hear other voices in the background of the call and alarm bells were ringing. Had the rest of the team left? Or, worse, had you drunkenly wandered off somewhere and gotten lost? He was already putting his shoes on and grabbing a jacket.

“Yeah, but they’re not you.” There was an urgency and an aching sadness to your words, Spencer could hear it even through the distortion of a phone call, and your words stumped him. He blinked once, then twice, before replying.

“Well, no, they aren’t me.”

He felt that had been an obvious distinction, but perhaps you needed him to make that clear in your drunken state.

An equally dramatic and exasperated sigh came through the phone. “I know that, and that’s why I’m sad. I miss you!”

Spencer was out of his apartment door in record time, racing down the stairs until he reached the parking lot beneath his building.

“You miss me? Really?” He had asked you because he wanted to hear you say it again, he had to, the smile on his face growing exponentially.

“Lots.” Your voice broke on that one word, and it was enough for Spencer to risk several speeding tickets to reach you in a time he would never, ever tell you, because you’d lecture him about road safety. Perhaps someday he will tell you, just to hear you speak to him for a prolonged period of time, even if it’s a lecture at the expense of his reckless adoration.

By the time Spencer arrived at the bar, you were a blubbering mess in Rossi’s arms. It was only when you were transferred to Spencer’s arms that your drunk mind registered his presence, and the sheer joy on your face despite your tears was something he knew would be his only remaining memory if he lost everything else in some freak accident. Amidst your incoherent mumblings of compliments and praises towards Spencer - each and every one under lock and key in his heart ever since - he carried you back to his car and drove you home with your body wrapped almost entirely around his arm from where you sat in the passenger seat of his car. Once at your house, he carried you to the door bridal style, lowering you temporarily so that you could clumsily unlock your front door, before he picked you back up again and carried you inside, all the way to your bed. And there, he laid you down, slipped your shoes off, tucked you into bed, and wiped your face with your skincare products efficiently, from what you’d told him of your nightly routine. He fetched you a glass of water and sat you up to drink the whole thing, then refilled it and set it on your bedside table - in case you woke up thirsty in the night, or if you needed it first thing in the morning. Lying you back down, he left a little kiss on your forehead, and due to your eyes being closed, he assumed you were already falling asleep, until you reached for his hand when he tried to go.

“Stay.” You pleaded in a barely-conscious and far-from-sober tone.

Spencer smiled at you like you were the stars in the sky.

“Alright.” He almost whispered, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, while you laid under your covers, practically curled around where he sat.

With one of his hands on your shoulder, Spencer sat with you, spelling out words you’d never register on the back of your shoulder blade with his thumb and index finger.

So beautiful.

Everything.

To be yours.

And as his thumb curved the last letter “s” on the back of your hand, Spencer heard your breathing settle to a rate that told him you were dreaming. Very slowly, he tucked you under the bedcovers, stood himself up, and left, but not before leaving you with a message he intended for you to comprehend later. You had not consented to Spencer staying the night with you, and you were in no position to give that consent in your state, but you had asked him to stay, so he stayed until you wouldn’t know that he’d gone.

The next morning, you awoke to a little note on your bedside table that simply said:

Good morning, angel. Please drink some water and let me know you survived drinking enough alcohol to fill the Hoover Dam (not literally, that’s not biologically possible).

-Spencer x

It was enough to make you laugh, and despite your immediate pounding headache, you reached for your phone.

You: hahaha, very funny. thank you so much for last night, I’m sorry for the mess ❤️

And, to your accustomed surprise, Spencer started typing back immediately.

Spencer: I’m glad that you survived to enjoy my joke. You are always welcome, and you have nothing to apologize for.

You went to set your phone down on your bedside table again, when it lit up with another text.

Spencer: ❤️

Surviving the alcohol you consumed was nothing compared to the way you had to fight for your life upon receiving that.

That morning, when you were called into the office for a case, you’d expected to be greeted with an onslaught of teasing from your coworkers, but Spencer had enough time before you arrived to plead with the rest of the team not to embarrass you. Surprisingly, they had agreed, but on one condition: Spencer had to do something about his workplace crush, because the rest of the team were losing their patience with the tension between you. To save you the embarrassment, Spencer sacrificed his own dignity in agreeing to that, and it’s been hanging over his head ever since.

The clouds beneath the jet serve as an interesting background to your thoughts, your headphones blocking out any and all sound beyond your music. You are away in your own little world, save for the part of your brain that is acutely aware of your elbow touching Spencer’s with the only barrier being your jacket and his. Does he spend as much time dwelling on these things? Does he ever wonder, like you do, that this connection between you could amount to something else, something more, if either of you were willing to take the risk? The risk is, in itself, a great one. While the risks surrounding any love in general are an obvious factor, in your shared field of work, that is exacerbated. Neither of you can explicitly trust that you would be able to act professionally if the other was harmed in any way, and you could bear witness to any degree of harm against the other while in the field. If that wasn’t enough, should it not work out, you would have no choice but to leave your dream job to work and live elsewhere, uprooting the life you’ve built here in its entirety; while Spencer would stay with the family he has worked with for so many years, the building would never feel the same to him without you in it. Whoever took your desk after you, he would be unable to withhold a small amount of resentment towards - he would never act on it, but he would feel it. And the guilt of being with him having caused you to have to restart your life somewhere else? That is a weight he is terrified of carrying. So many have faced worse fates as a result of getting close to Spencer, but when it comes to you, he cannot think of any worse than that, or his chest will start to hurt.

Perhaps this case is the perfect opportunity, he wonders to himself while a female cop converses with him, barely occupying even half of Spencer’s brain as he focuses on thoughts of you.

“I think it’s great you guys have come down here to help us!” The local cop grins up at Spencer.

A case in Vegas, where he could use some time once the case is closed to show you some of his favorite places. You’d like that, he thinks.

“Thank you, we’re always happy to help when requested.” Spencer answers casually.

But from the little office you’re working in, you can see the way that local cop is ogling at Spencer, and you feel a twinge of jealousy. It was only a few minutes ago you were looking at the hazel in his eyes up close in the same way she currently is, but you like to think you’re a little less obvious than that. You are not.

“Some of these guys, you can tell they don’t know what they’re doing, but you definitely do, don’t you? I’ve heard the rest of your team calling you a genius!” The local cop babbles to Spencer, eyes like an animal in heat.

Perhaps a tour of the casino’s? But a certain card-counting ability resulting in a certain state-wide ban would make that somewhat difficult. That probably wouldn’t be a very good date. Would it be a date? Spencer wonders, before he shrugs, feeling a little awkward.

“I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified given its diversity in both person and circumstance, but I appreciate your faith in the BAU, who I’d better get back to. Thanks.” With that, he steps away from the officer, thinking nothing of the conversation given that his focus had been elsewhere for the duration of it.

You, however, cannot let it go. To your detriment, you assume a seasoned profiler like Spencer can read flirtatious intent a mile off (his unreliable grasp on social cues begs to differ) and from a distance, it didn’t look to you that he outright rejected the advances of another woman (his unreliable grasp on social cues left him unaware there were even advances to reject), and that left you feeling…upset. You had thought your relationship with Spencer to be special, that he didn’t reject the warm, sweet tension between the two of you because he liked you, specifically, but if he didn’t reject the flirtations of another woman, are you just a more regular occurrence of what she offered him?

Little do you know, if Spencer heard your thoughts suggest he only merely “liked” you, he may very well go into cardiac arrest under the pressure of the weight to correct you, adamantly. There is not a string of words in his vocabulary to adequately describe what he feels for you, and to imply “like” conveys them is salt in the wound you cause in his heart for each day you’re not his.

Naturally, for the rest of the day you are accompanied by a cloud hanging over your head to consistently remind you of that very same fact - that you are not Spencer’s. It is hardly surprising you do everything in your power to avoid him, offering to assist every member of the team with whatever task they’re doing to take you out of his reach and prevent him from talking to you. Of course, you know he’ll notice, and you’ll apologize when you’ve recovered enough to not cry at the thought of him, but for tonight are destined to bury yourself in hotel bedcovers that you partially hope suffocate you into unconsciousness to save you further torment.

Most unfortunately for you, only an hour into your tears, there is a soft knock at your hotel room door. By now, you are beyond the point of being able to hide the extent to which you have already cried, so you formulate a number of excuses pertaining to allergies or hormones on your way to the door. All of those lies evaporate on opening your door to find Spencer standing there, looking down at you with pleading eyes that quite frankly make you want to launch yourself from your hotel room window.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, (Y/N), I just came by to-“ His eyes widen. “You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question; Spencer knows you well enough to not need to doubt himself when he reads your physical tells.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Did you need something?” You brush off his concern, hoping to distract him with whatever his original reason for coming here was - it wouldn’t be the first time Spencer materialized in your presence to ask your opinion of something obscure or a social situation he was uncertain of because he felt comfortable enough to come to you about it, you just wanted to get this over with so that you could return to your crying pit.

“I- what? Don’t worry about it? You’ve been crying, of course I’ll worry about that! Extensively!” Spencer exclaims, his voice rising in pitch slightly with his distress, before he clears his throat. “I came by to check on you because your behavior today confused me, and it appears I was right to be concerned.” Seeing the apprehension on your face, Spencer is quick to amend the question he was going to ask. “If you’d prefer not to talk about it, I understand and won’t pressure you, but please don’t force yourself to suffer alone if you can help it. There’s nothing I’d rather listen to than you.”

The sincerity in Spencer’s words brings fresh tears to your eyes, and it’s physically painful to look away from him and stare at the doorframe.

“It’s nothing, Spencer, just getting in my head about things that-“ You begin, and in a moment that is completely unlike his usually overly-polite self, he interrupts you.

“Is it something I did?” He asks, his eyes widening with the same plea as before.

Spencer’s question surprises you so much that you hesitate to answer him, only for a second before your lips part again, but your delay is enough of an answer to him.

“(Y/N), please tell me I did so that I can fix this. I don’t understand- I’ve already gone over our every interaction over the past 48 hours, 30 times each, and I’m not smart enough to have been unable to determine a conclusion on my own. Please tell me.” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse with the weight of having hurt your feelings without ever intending to.

Knowing he isn’t going to forgive himself without an explanation and that he’ll see through any lie you give him now, you are left without a choice.

“That cop you spoke to today, was she flirting with you?” The words fall from your lips freely, and Spencer blinks.

Once, twice, then a third time.

“Which…female officer? In the past 8 hours I have spoken to three.” He asks so carefully, like he’s walking on glass.

You have to resist rolling your eyes, because you know Spencer isn’t being clueless on purpose, but it doesn’t ease your pain.

“Just after midday, the one who was looking up at you like you were the best thing she’d seen all day.” Now, you can’t resist rolling your eyes; an involuntary reaction that makes Spencer frown in confusion.

“The conversation consisted of her thanking us for assisting them with the case and enquiring as to whether I’m a genius- to which I said I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified, and that was it.” Spencer has never been more confused in his entire life. He feels there is something obvious staring him right in his face and he is mortified at being completely blind to it, but he is treading very carefully over this invisible minefield.

“She was flirting with you, Spencer, didn’t you see the way she was looking at you?” Trying to read his expression and only finding confusion is not helping.

“I wasn’t really looking at her.” Spencer answers truthfully, because his eyes had been glazed over as he thought of places he could show you while in Vegas, where posed the highest probability of a successful date, should you accept the offer he had every intention of presenting you with.

“You didn’t notice…” You murmur, your heart sinking in your chest.

You had been upset that Spencer hadn’t rejected the advances of another woman under the presumption he understood her advances, but if he truly did not when she was being so obvious, he most likely doesn’t notice yours, either. He hasn’t been reciprocating the energy you thought was between you for that reason, he’s just been continuing the conversation without a clue. A lump forms in your thought.

Meanwhile, Spencer is even more confused.

“I’m not certain I understand what the issue is. Was it the flirting? Or the fact I didn’t register it? Should I have?” He is lost and in desperate need of guidance. As soon as he knows what he’s done to upset you, he’ll beg on his knees for your forgiveness, but at this time he is still unable to determine the problem. If you had not realized he didn’t acknowledge the flirting until now, that couldn’t be the issue, but if the issue was simply that he’d been flirted with, you now knowing he wasn’t aware of it would have fixed that - so why do you look more upset? This just in: Doctor Spencer Reid loathes social cues.

“Do you notice when anyone flirts with you?” Answering his question with your own question is only sending him further into a spiral.

You are the only person he ever wishes would flirt with him, but Spencer is absolutely convinced you never would. If he answers “no” to your rephrased version of the same question you had just asked him, that appears to be the answer you are assuming to be true which is making you look sadder. He does not understand this at all.

“How do I answer that in a way that won’t upset you further…” Spencer frowns, focussing very hard on your every micro-expression, trying to use your face as a cheat sheet.

“I don’t think you can, Spencer. Thanks for coming to check on me. Goodnight.” You give him a weak smile and go to close your hotel room door, but Spencer places a palm against the door with an expression of alarm.

“Please-“ He starts, then stops himself when you meet his eyes, his tone softening. “Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath and decide to bite the bullet. What do you have to lose? Your heart’s already been hit with every weapon of mass destruction you can think of.

“I thought- I thought you knew there was- it wasn’t flirting, but there’s been something between us that I thought you knew as well as I did. Stupidly, I thought you were reciprocating it, but if you couldn’t tell that cop was flirting with you, there’s no way you knew…” Your weak smile wavers. “Like I said, just getting in my head over things. Doesn’t matter. You haven’t done anything wrong. Night-“

Once again unexpectedly, Spencer interrupts you, but this time for a very different reason.

“I need to sit down.”

It’s only then you realize how suddenly pale he’s become. Paler than you’ve ever seen him, in fact. Your eyes widen, and you grab Spencer’s forearms, guiding him into your hotel room and over to the armchair in the corner of the room, the door clicking shut behind you while Spencer stumbles with the most shell shocked look in his eyes.

“Spencer, what’s going on? Are you alright?” You ask him worriedly.

“Indeterminable.” Spencer answers in a distant voice.

“Okay, okay, uh-“ You flit from him to the sink in your hotel room to grab Spencer a glass of water, that you’re quick to bring to him. “Here.”

His eyes don’t even focus on you or the glass, but he takes it from your hand and gulps it down. Spencer makes the mistake of glancing at you mid-sip, and starts choking, resulting in you patting his back.

“Something between us…” He coughs out. “You said, something between us. What.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and your face feels hot.

“You know, mutual pining. Like in movies.” You feel very awkward having to explain that.

“Books, first.” Spencer corrects you quietly, his breathing finally steadying.

“Yeah, okay, books first.” You can’t help chuckling lightly and taking the empty glass back over to the sink, then returning to Spencer, but stopping in your tracks when you find him now standing instead of sitting in the armchair.

“A study has shown that on average it takes men 88 days to fall in love, while it takes women 134 days. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t believe every aspect of love can be reduced to facts and statistics, but in moments of self-doubt I fall back on what I know. I knew what I knew of how I felt about you on the day we met, but I waited 88 days to be certain, and then it was only logical I waited 134 days to give you the chance to develop even the vaguest pleasant feeling towards me.” He takes a breath. “It has only been 120 days; I had not yet decided how I was going to broach this topic with you, and the question remains as to whether I’ve waited long enough for you to be as certain as I am. If the answer is anything other than yes, I promise, I’ll wait as many days as it takes, even if it’s a number I can’t reach.” Spencer’s voice is that of a man swearing an oath he has no doubt he’ll live to honor in every sense, and you are certain your heart has stopped beating.

You stare at him with wide eyes, feeling like time has frozen around you, the only sounds being your breathing to fill the suffocating silence of your hotel room. A microexpression of terror flickers across Spencer’s face, and you are brought back to yourself in an instant.

“I wish you’d asked me 120 days ago.” You say breathlessly.

“I didn’t ask anything.” Yet, Spencer adds internally, his heart pounding.

“But you’re going to.” You clarify softly, and Spencer nods, so you nod back at him.

“Would…” Spencer clears his throat. “Would you allow me the honor of taking you on a date? With me? Together? Here? Or anywhere- anywhere we can realistically travel to, that is-“ As he rambles and gets ahead of himself, your expression of shock evolves into a smile, and it’s your turn to interrupt him.

“Yes. Anywhere, anytime. Yes.” You answer.

There’s a beat of silence as Spencer catches his breath.

“Now?” He dares to whisper, and you’re grinning, glancing between him, and the provisions of a TV, bed and phone that this hotel room provides.

“Would you be opposed to a first date of takeout and shitty hotel room cable?” You offer playfully.

A bashful smile curls at the corner of Spencer’s mouth as he smiles back at you.

“Anything with you.” He says, but is quick to amend his own words. “Provided it’s an entirely safe scenario, obviously.”

That makes you snicker. “Obviously.”

Spencer looks between you and the bed, nervous of how to proceed. You make the first move, taking a step towards the bed, and Spencer offers you his hand - somewhat needlessly, but if he ever misses an instant in which he can deliver a gentlemanly action upon you, he would suggest that’s the instant you shoot him dead - to assist you onto the mattress before he follows suit and sits down beside you, kicking off his shoes.

“I’m completely underdressed for our first date, sorry.” You joke, looking between your pajamas and Spencer’s suit.

“You’re beautiful.” Is all he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it as he gazes down at you with the most gentle smile.

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers, and Spencer doesn’t hesitate to lift them to his lips to kiss each of your knuckles tenderly.

“Takeout?” He murmurs against your skin, and for a second you’re lost to the daze of his kisses that you wonder if he’s asking whether the act of them has taken you out (to which you’d answer with a resounding yes), but remembering the nature of your date, you nod wordlessly.

Spencer smirks against your knuckles.

“I meant, what kind of takeout?” He amends, and your face feels hot again.

“Anything at all.” Is all you can think to respond, because to be completely honest, you do not care what you eat tonight.

Spencer chuckles quietly at that, keeping his hand holding yours while his other hand reaches for the hotel room phone, to dial for reception and request their recommendations for the best local takeout places.

“What’s so funny?” You ask him, but you’re smiling regardless of not yet knowing, just seeing him laugh while his thumb caresses your knuckles.

“I was just thinking, ‘Anything at all’ is exactly what I’ve thought every time I’ve looked at you.” Spencer muses as he brings the phone to his ear.

Anything at all to make you smile again, anything at all from you, if you asked he’d anything at all for you.

And much like the last time, you don’t even realize he’s spelling out words against your skin with the caress of his thumb. This time, though, it’s just one phrase, repeated.

To be yours.

To be yours.

To be yours.

[fairene]

one of your girls part two / ln4 sneak peek

sneak peek for a lando x fem!reader part two. read it here

warning: minors dni!!, language, smut (not in this sneak peek, but there will be.) no use of y/n, of course, potentially harsh language, ANGST (SORRY, not sorry(?)), drinking, jealousy!!! toxic, miscommunication.

a/n ⋯ as always, i am open to taking requests. don't be afraid to hit me up hehe 💗 this should be posted within the next few days...!! afterwards, i'm solely devoting to answering requests. all of your ideas are spectacular!!! i can't wait to put them to pen and paper. stay tuned!

raphael is a new character being introduced. for...purposes that this author cannot disclose just yet ;). i hope this will keep everyone fed before the full thing drops! aiming for around. . .. 18k words, hopefully, but i also don't want to drag it on longer than it needs to be, haha.

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

my face posting this

[pupkashi]

Idk if your taking requests but I may or may not be in need of a gojo comfort fic when your boss is shitty and work is stressful👉👈

hi anon i hope this brings you a little comfort <3 wishing you all the best you amazing hard worker !!! i didn’t expect this to get this long

everything seems off the second satoru enters your shared home. there’s no sound from the kitchen or tv, there’s no music playing and there’s no lights on.

his first instinct is to panic, his mind racing as he wonders if something bad had happened to you, ready to burn down the world to ensure your safety and make anyone responsible pay for hurting his lover.

then he takes a deep breath, calms his racing heart and calls out your name. when he gets no response he frowns, heart rate spiking again as he searches the living room, kitchen and restroom before heading upstairs.

a wave of relief washes over him when he sees warm light peaking out from the cracked bedroom door. he’s about to open the door to loudly greet you when he stops in his tracks, heart dropping when he hears your muffled sniffles.

the second you see the door opening your face pales, trying your best to wipe any stray tears away before satoru can see you.

“angel! didn’t expect you back so soon” you laugh nervously, wiping your nose with the sleeve of his your sweatshirt as you stand up from the floor. you know your eyes are puffy and red, you know you’ve been caught but a part of you hopes satoru will let it slide just this once.

the other part of you knows he won’t let it go, he’s going to do everything in his power to help you and make you feel better about it all.

“what happened? are you hurt? who hurt you?” his words come out with a flurry of emotions; anger, sadness, and worry all wrapped up with a bow of concern as he walks up to you quickly. he’s gently resting his hands on your shoulders, looking you over and around the room to try and figure out what had happened.

“I’m okay it’s nothing” you say, trying your best to force a small smile, but your bottom lip quivers. it hurts satoru too much for him to stand around doing nothing.

“sweetheart please,” he whispers, brows drawn together in concern, “I just wanna help you.” his gentle words are enough to make you break down into tears again, knees weak as you let yourself sit on the edge of the bed, holding your head in tour hands as you cried.

“work is just so shitty” you say as best you can, calming yourself down as satoru holds you against his chest tightly. “my boss treats me like I’m an idiot who can’t do anything” you mumble against his chest.

“i do everything i can and prove myself over and over again- I’ve taken on so many things lately and it’s so stressful and for what?” you question, pushing yourself off your lover and looking him in the eyes, “all so they can tell me i need to do better? i hate it there, they never acknowledge me and- i hate it” you cry, tears welling in your eyes once more.

the last weeks had been too overwhelming to handle, but you’d set your emotions aside, wanting to perform at your best at work. your boss’ shitty remarks were the tipping point for you as you clocked out.

satoru holds you tightly against him, trying his best to calm you down. he’s rubbing your back with one hand and holding your head against his chest with the other. it’s not until he feels you only hiccuping as you calm down that he loosens his grip on you.

when you pull away from him you cringe at how soaked you’ve left his t shirt, biting back an apology as you know the state of his shirt isn’t even on his mind at the moment.

“did you want to just vent or did you want me to give input?” he asks softly, acknowledging that sometimes he doesn’t need to give you any advice, you can handle yourself when you need to.

“just wanted to vent i guess” you mumble, thanking him when he hands you tissues to blow your nose.

“i can always kill your boss” he smiles. you smack his chest softly, chuckling as you shake your head. you know he’s not joking about it, fully prepared to end anyone that makes you cry. “okay then how about buying out the company?” he thinks, a finger on his chin as you shove him.

“stop throwing your money around for nothing” you tell him, making him pout as he looks at you.

“it’s not nothing though, it’s for you” he says, pressing a feathery kiss to one of your cheeks, “I’d spend every penny i have to see you smile, sweetheart.” the words have your face growing hotter by the second, and you don’t care to admit the way your heart thumps against your ribcage at his confession.

“but for now how about i just spend however much you want on some takeout and snacks, yeah?” his words make you smile, letting yourself lean against him, letting your eyes flutter shut. they burned slightly from how hard you’d cried, for a second you worry about how swollen they’ll be tomorrow, but it quickly fades when you feel satoru’s lips on the top of your head.

“here, pick whatever you want while i go start the shower” he smiles, handing you his phone before he’s kissing your forehead and heading to the restroom.

time seems like it stops for a second, as you scroll on satoru’s phone and pick your favorite takeout, you leave it unlocked so he can ass his meal on there too. like clockwork he’s stepping out of the restroom, motioning for you to join him in the restroom.

it’s one of the most intamiye moments you’ve shared with him, letting him gently take the clothes you were wearing off. you step out of the pants and underwear pooled around your ankles a he ushers you into the shower. satoru takes his clothes off afterwards, following you in and grabbing the shower head.

he lets the warm water run over you, making sure to get your hair soaked before he’s getting shampoo in his hands and massaging it in. then he does the same with the conditioner and body wash. it’s relatively quiet, save for the water running and satoru’s occasional humming.

once he’s done he’s giving you a warm towel, wrapping it around you and telling you he’d be right out. satoru shampoos his own hair with much less gentleness and care than he had yours, quickly rinsing his hair and drying himself off before joining you on the bed.

“you wanna wear my sweatshirt? I’ll spray my cologne on it for you” he grins, heart leaping when your eyes sparkle at his words. satoru doesn’t waste a moment, handing you the sweater and a fresh pair of underwear.

he’s putting in boxers and grey sweats, messily towel drying his hair when the doorbell rings. “you wanna eat up here or downstairs?” he asks you, slipping a black t shirt on before opening the bedroom door.

“let’s do downstairs” you smile, watching as he walks down the hall and disappears down the stairs. you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief, feeling like the pressure of the world had been washed down the drain thanks to your lover.

life feels okay again as you eat takeout on the couch, a shitty romcom on the tv as you two poke fun at the main characters of the movie, betting on what cliche they’ll do next. there’s a pint of your favorite ice cream flavor waiting for you in the fridge and a bouquet of flowers in a beautiful vase now adorning the dinner table.

satoru keeps you at his side the whole night, pampering and assuring you how amazing you were. he makes sure to tell you that he could easily support you if you wanted to quit, he could have you moved to another location if you just say the word.

but you shake your head, “i just had it piled up for too long, I’ll be okay” you assure him. “plus i have a really great boyfriend to help me when things he hard” you add on, making him smile and hold you tighter.

“sweets you don’t need me at all, you’re much stronger than i am” he chuckles, “i would’ve killed them by now; you’re so resilient.” his words make you smile, letting a comfortable silence fall over the two of you.

work sucks, your boss is an asshole. but satoru is always there to help you when things get too much. and you have a sneaking suspicion that a blue eyed man is behind your boss getting fired in two days time.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

[lessi-lover]

the talk II l.williamson x l.walti

lots of content coming soon for our little stärnli 🫶🏻 ★ the talk II l.williamson x l.walti

you had been thinking about it for a while now, but you weren't sure how anyone would react to what you really wanted to call leah. you had thought about speaking to mummy about how you were feeling because she always encouraged you to speak about anything that was on your mind, but you just didn't know how to bring it up.

the desire to call leah what was bubbling in your chest was overwhelming, yet, you hesitated, unsure of how your words would be received and how uncertain the result might be.

it was a big step, and you didn't want to upset anyone.

everybody at preschool had two parents and sometimes you wondered where your second parent was, but you chose not to ask knowing that it might upset your mummy if you were to be curious, partly also that you couldn't form enough words to be able to explain your worries.

it wasn’t that you harboured any feelings that leah would be mad. in fact, you felt so much reassurance and comfort in her new presence in your life that were pretty sure she wouldn’t be. but the thought of calling her something so special felt like a really big deal, and you didn’t want to get it wrong or mess it up.

it was after a long day of training, and a long day of preschool for you that you finally built up the courage to be honest about how you felt and not pent up your emotions in a bottle any longer than you had already.

you found mummy sitting on the couch, her leg propped up on a pillow as she rested. her injury was still healing, and you knew she was in a lot of pain. she looked up and smiled when she saw you approach, patting the spot next to her for you to sit down.

"mummy?" you whispered as she finished her story, closing the book gently and placing on the side table next to her spot. "yes, little stärnli?" mummy replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead and giving you a warm smile. you hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you gathered your nerves together so as to speak. "can i ask you something?"

"sweetheart what's wrong?" she replied, looking at you with concern as she watched you play nervously with the ends of your pyjamas, the sparkles falling from the moon bearing your attention from the swiss.

"i've been thinking about something," you began, your fingers playing with the edge of your blanket. "about lee."lia's eyes softened, and she gave you an encouraging smile as she waiting for you to speak your mind freely. "what is it, stärnli?"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "Can I call her 'Mumma'?" lia's heart skipped a beat as she listened to your question, her eyes glistening over at how proud she was of the relationship you had built with her girlfriend in such a short amount of time. she had noticed how close you had become to leah, and the idea of you wanting to call her "mumma" filled her with warmth and she couldn't have been happier.

"that's a very big question, stärnli," your mummy said gently. "why do you want to call her 'mumma'?" you looked up at your mummy, your eyes filled with hope as you began to explain yourself. "because she takes care of me like you do. she makes me feel safe and loved. and... i love her, mummy."

tears welled up in lia's eyes as she brought you onto her lap, tucking your head under her chin as she kissed your hair lightly. "i think that's a wonderful idea, sweetheart," lia said, her voice filled with love as she brushed your hair back. "leah loves you very much, and I know she would be honored to be called 'mumma' by you."

you smiled brightly, feeling a sense of relief that you hadn't been judged, that your mummy had taken your question seriously and given you the answer you were hoping for. "do you really think so, mummy?" you asked innocently, poking your head out from under her chin to look her in the eyes.

"really," your mummy confirmed, leaning down to give your forehead another kiss. "we'll talk to leah about it together, okay?" she suggested, taking your small hand in hers and bringing it to her chest. "okay," you agreed, feeling content as you snuggled back into your bed. "thank you, mummy."

"you're welcome, my little stärnli," lia whispered, her heart full.

the next day felt like any other, but you felt a little lighter knowing that you had gotten it off your chest and your mummy was supportive like you had hoped.

you spent the day playing outside with mummy, drawing pictures of your friends from preschool and occasionally looking at the clock, wondering when leah would would be home from her media day.

as the sun began to set, you heard the familiar sound of leah's car pulling into the driveway and ker keys turning in the front lock. your heart skipped, and you rushed away to the door, her face lighting up as she spotted you running towards her.

"hello baby!" she smiled as she lifted you up in her arms, bringing you tightly into her chest, the blonde not having seen you for only a couple hours but it was enough time for her to miss your energetic little personality during her day.

dinner was filled with laughter as usual, leah offering stories from her day and you returning with your own stories about your day spent at home, but you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. you kept glancing at mummy, who gave you reassuring smiles as she knew what your were silently asking.

finally, as the dishes were cleared away, mummy gave you a little nod. it was time now for you to the question you've been waiting to say. "leah," mummy began, drawing her attention, "stärnli has something she wants to ask you." leah turned to you, her eyes warm and curious.

"what is it, little star?" she asked, using the term that your mum always called you by, your mind always fascinated by the stars hense your name. you took a deep breath, just like you had the night before. "leah can i call you 'mumma'?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

for a moment, there was silence. leah's eyes widening when she heard you, and for a moment as you could see tears starting to form. you thought she was upset she knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in hers. "oh, little star," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "i would be honored to be called 'mumma' by you."

she pulled you into a tight hug, her hand coming to pull her girlfriend into the hug who stood and watched, and you could feel her tears dripping onto your pyjama top lightly. "i love you so much, little star," she murmured.

you hugged her back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "i love you too," you whispered.

that night, as you lay in bed, you felt a sense of peace that you hadn't felt for a long time. you had always wondered why you didn't have two parents like the rest of the kids at school, and now finally you did, everything falling into place like mummy always promised it would.

you had two mummas who loved you, and you knew that no matter what happend you would always have both of them ready to support you by your side. as you drifted off to sleep, you could hear mummy and leah talking softly in the living room, their voices soothing you to sleep.

[gamesetart]

me when dilf!art breeding kink but im feeling horribly masc so the actual idea of pregnancy grosses me out - anyways i support transmasc breeding kinks guys

nsfw below the cut - reader is afab, one use of 'good boy' but other than that its very neutral. afab terms for reader's parts.

tags: breeding kink (sort of? they're not actually trying to get pregnant), cheating (sort of, tashi allows it. orchestrated it, actually), mentions of the arttashi marriage, overstimulation, the mildest of crying. technically an age gap (art in his early 30s, reader in 20s) but it never comes up.

his hips slot against yours like he was made to be there, made to press your knees to your chest, to fold you in half, to settle between your thighs and jackrabbit in and out of your cunt like he owns it, like there isn't even a person attached to the rest of it.

it's not the first time you've found yourself like this, praising his athleticism whilst cursing his absolutely unfair stamina. you've cum around him twice already - on his tongue, because art donaldson wouldn't dare try to fuck you stupid without coating his face in your spend, first, then on his fingers, a futile attempt to open you up for his cock. but nothing feels like enough prep for art, especially not when you're whining for him, telling him you want it to hurt, you don't care, you need him now.

"fuck," art groans, breath hot against the crook of your neck. "fuck, you're so fuckin' tight f'me, jesus, baby."

"don't bring him into this," you manage, nipping at his ear.

he huffs a laugh. even when he's like this, fucking you like a man posessed, snapping his hips into yours like he'll die outside of the sweet clench of your pussy, he manages to find lightness. you both do. it keeps things sweet, keeps them from slipping too far into uncharted territory. you have tashi's permission to let him ruin you as he pleases - tashi duncan knows all, and she's sanctioned your existence as the perfect outlet for all pf art's pent-up fantasies - but art doesn't want to be rough with you. not yet. he likes that he can hold you and feel strong, protective. likes that he can bend you in two and still kiss your temple. art likes that you can be sweet, soft, lovely.

"shhh, you can take it, baby," art soothes, and it's far too kind with the way he's fucking you. "doin' so well for me."

"art-" it's a warning as much as it is a plea.

he just nods, strokes your hair from your face, gentle as sin, and presses his forehead to yours.

"go on, babe, cum on my cock, c'mon, that's it, that's it-" and he feels it, the moment your walls clench around him, the fluttering of your cunt as a broken cry of his name falls from your lips. "oh, god, there you go."

he doesn't stop, though, barely even slows as he wipes a tear from your cheek and continues to slam his cock right into your overstimulated cunt. no amount of whining, of red scratches raked down his back, could have stopped him. you have a word, a signal. if you really couldn't take it, he'd know.

but you're his good boy, you'll take it, you always will. you might be the only one who can. you're the only one he wants, certainly. the only person he can fuck into like this.

"'s too much," you sob weakly, clawing at him with shaking hands. "art, please, can't-"

art just shushes you with a soft, quick kiss. "got one more f'me, don't ya? i know you do, know you can, baby, c'mon."

the tears fall freely, the press of his cock inside you so ridiculously filling you wonder if you'll split in half, if you'll simply die from the overstimulation. and then you think that'll be such an excellent way to go out, crying under him, safe between his strong arms.

art's right hand slips from where it rests on the back of your knee, holding you spread open. he hooks your leg over his shoulder, using the now-free hand to rub torturous circles on your clit. it burns, it's good, too good, white-hot sparks of pain crossing their wires with pleasure as you all but scream, sounds torn from your lungs in ways you didn't know you could make.

"c'mon, babe, wanna feel you cum around my cock before i pull out-"

your eyes go wide and you shake your head. no, not this time, wait, but the words don't come out.

"what, what's wrong?" art slows, pulling his hand from you. his blue eyes are doe-like with concern, eyebrows knit in the middle, lips settled into a familiar worried pout as he stares down at you.

you get a second to catch your breath. "in me," you gasp hoarsely. "inside. art. want you to cum in me. fill me up, please."

it's like something snaps.

there's a look on his face you can only liken to how he looks on the court: wild, fierce, a calculated cruelty he uses to systematically destroy whoever's on the other side of the net. and right now, a version of that look is fixed on you, a hungry glint in his eyes, pupils blown so wide you'd think his iries had vanished.

"fuck," he groans. "you want me to breed you, that it? fill up this pretty little pussy?"

and you moan, because neither of you are trying for a baby, not in the slightest, but the idea of being owned so thoroughly by art donaldson is enough to make you clench around him, fresh heat coiling in your core, and you could probably give him a hundred more orgasms, as long as he keeps talking to you like that.

"yeah, yeah, fuck me, art, 'til it takes, please," you babble, and maybe one day you'll start meaning it.

his pace begins anew, and this time, there's barely any rhythm to it. he's seeking release for himself now, too, for the first time since this has started, pulling out almost entirely before snapping back in so hard, you're sure you can feel it in your throat. deft fingers make rough circles on your clit, quick and dirty.

it pulls another orgasm from you faster than you'd like to admit. you don't even have time to warn him, but he can feel it in the way you tighten, your legs shaking, can hear it in the sharp note of your voice when you call his name.

"that's it, there you go," art groans. "gonna fill you right up, baby. 's what you want, right?"

you nod, so far past words, so far past anything more than lying there and taking it. but that's all he needs from you. his pace stutters.

"fuck, yes, you're so perfect, so good to me, you feel so good-" he's babbling now, grinding into you with all the grace and decorum of a fucking animal. "made for me, made for this cock, god, yes-"

and with a high keen of your name he's cumming, driving his hips into you, pushing his cock in as far as your cunt will allow, so far you're almost worried his sheer willpower is enough to override the birth control pill you're on. he stays there for a while, holds it in like he really is going to force it to take. and when he pulls out, his fingers push it back it sloppily.

art presses a soft kiss to your temple and all but collapses next to you with a sigh. when he catches his breath, you know he'll vanish to the bathroom, return with damp cloths and the bath running. he'll massage all your sore joints and rub oils into your skin and kiss every inch of you. but right now, he just needs to feel you. to lie next to you and try to memorise the pattern of your breathing.

"that was... something," you mumble, a soft smile playing at your tired lips.

"good something?" art asks.

"great."

"oh, thank god, because i really enjoyed that."

"so did i."

he kisses you again, on the lips. it's slow, sweet, drawn-out, as he weaves a hand into your hair and trails it down to draw circles on your shoulder. both of you know a child isn't in the cards right now, but your purpose here is to let art play pretend. you don't even actually want kids, it's just hot to think about making art a daddy again. tashi is the mother of his daughter, will be the mother of any of his future children. you, you're the outlet she hand-picked for all of art's needs, because while she can do everything, she won't let him fuck her the way he wants to fuck someone, and art doesn't want to fuck tashi the way he fucks you. you're okay with that. you like being someone he needs. someone he wants.

and who knows? maybe tashi will change her mind. maybe you will. maybe she'll let you have his next kid, and maybe you'll want it.

god knows art wants it. he'd let you. he'd give you anything. everything.

"thank you," he mumbles against your hair. "that was... i love you."

"i should be thanking you, i haven't cum thag much in one night in... ever."

you pause, tip your head up to meet his eyes. he's smiling, soft as silk, sweet as sugar. in the dying light of the sun, his hair looks like it's on fire, haloed by the sky itself. apollo incarnate come down from the heavens.

"i love you too," you say. and mean it.

[fishsticksloser]

Just…talking this out.

I'd love to see a situation where Leo hangs out with a best friend of his and starts developing big feelings. He wouldn't know what these feelings were, testing simple things like hugs and hand holding with his other friend, April, to see if it's just an internal 'glitch' or something common.

Obviously, the reaction wouldn't work with April. Thus, he'd get to a point where he realizes he, of all people, is absolutely smitten with his best friend and begins unintentionally pursuing them (perhaps letting his hugs last a little longer than normal, kissing their knuckles occasionally in passing, leaning a tad bit closer to their face during each conversation…eventually to encase them against a wall on a rooftop, shielding them from the ongoing evening rain, finally and confidently uttering his confession).

Y'know…just…brain worms.

Close to You

Leo x gn!reader

Warnings: confessions, struggling with feelings, kissing, swearing

A/N: mmmm just brain worms? Let me eat them /silly.... Actually, can I use them to make a brain worm farm?

Something was off. He couldn't stop thinking about you. Your smile, your laugh, your touch. He often zoned out, thinking about you.

This is getting out of hand....

Sitting next to you, watching Jupiter Jim since you've never seen it. Feeling your arm brush his as you get comfortable, sparks flying over his skin. Leo glances at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He finds himself looking at your lips, wondering what they feel like against his.

He blinks, quickly looking away. People don't normally feel that way with friends, right?

He didn't understand what he was feeling. He decided to test it out. April. The perfect friend, always willing to help.

He definitely didn't explain or ask, but he knew if April knew it might skew results. Leo was getting scientific, something he didn't really understand. But it has to be done.

During a movie night you couldn't attend, he sat next to April, leaning against her and snuggling as he normally did with anyone he sat next to. Throughout the movie, his glances to her were seldom, mostly when she'd shift to get more comfortable or made a comment. Her arm bumped his and he felt nothing, he had no desire to get closer, no desire to touch her more.

That night he went to bed more confused, deciding to tell April about it later. Maybe she'd have some insight on what's going on with him. And of course she did.

Crush.

That was the simple word that echoed in his head as he went home.

Crush.

He shakes his head, trying to knock that one word out of his head.

There's no way...

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

As time went on, he couldn't help himself. Leo would touch you, holding your hand, kissing your knuckles, cuddling with you during movie nights. He wanted to be close, he wanted to get closer.

He'd noticed your blush, the way you'd cover your face at times. It made him need it more. He had to see more.

When you two were alone in his room, he'd let you rest against him. Sitting between his legs, your back against his plastron. It became a norm. So did his fingers tracing over your skin.

You're so soft...

He nuzzles your jaw, making you tilt your head to the side. His heart pounds in his chest as he presses his beak to your neck.

You smell so good...

Eventually he decides he has to tell you. He can't do it anymore, he can't stand it. It itches, it's hard to not just spill it. Not blurt it out the moment he sees you.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

He had his jacket around you, your back pressed against his plastron. The pitter patter of rain, the feeling of the rain against his skin, the feeling of you in his embrace. Everything felt perfect.

Leo nuzzles your temple as you look over the city skyline. He sways slightly, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his arms wrapped around you. He takes a deep breath, basking in the moment.

"You're so warm." You hum, pressing back against him more. He churrs softly, burying his beak in your hair. You tilt your head back, laying it on the top edge of his plastron. "This is quite the view..."

"Kinda romantic, huh?" He teases, chuffing into your hair. Leo hugs you a bit tighter, feeling nervousness seep in.

"Perfect for a little date." You muse back, reaching up to rub his arm comfortingly. You watch the cars on the street, basking in Leo's warmth.

"I... Really like being with you." He murmurs, moving his arms as you turn around to face him.

"Don't tell me you're getting all mushy." The teasing words have him blushing, playfully pushing you away.

"Me? Mushy?" Leo laughs, trying to hide the big grin on his face with an eyeroll. You laugh back, letting him pull you back against him. His laughter dies a little, but still smiling widely. "I'm serious though... I love being with you... I.... I've realized some things recently..."

You listen intently, seeing the nervousness written all of his face. His grip on our waist tightened a little, taking a deep breath.

"I... Have a massive fucking crush on you..." He whispers finally, closing his eyes as if he was scared of your reaction.

"Really?" You gasp, making him open his eyes. The look on your face, you weren't repulsed like he'd thought you would be. He couldn't help himself any longer, leaning down as he cupped your cheek.

"Really..." He chuffs, pressing his lips to yours, sealing the confession with a sweet kiss.

[thisonehere]

Bi-Han falls alseep on you lap

Mk Headconans

A/n: Something long overdue since the first headcanons and the poll. Here it is, late as hell too. Sorry about that, I was really busy with requests. Anyways, let's enjoy the idea of ever getting to such a fine man lol

C/w: None, fluff

Bi-Han has always been cold and unreadable. He was often silent, speaking in short sentences and mean mugging everyone at all times. The only time he ever expressed his feelings was whenever he lost his temper and lashed out at people. Though he had this rough and cold hearted exterior, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to him than what he presented.

As fate would have it, you'd find out tonight.

It was late at night, you found yourself sitting alone next to Bi-Han. Why? You can't even remember, your heart was racing so fast that you couldn't even concentrate.

You weren't just scared of Bi-Han, you sort of had a lil'bit of a crush on him. So sitting so close to him left you in a state of abashment. It was a struggle to not look at his face, but you accidentally stole a few glances here and there.

He was so handsome, and so tired. He had bags under his eyes and yawned a few times. You couldn't help but wonder when was the last time the man even slept. No doubt quite a long time ago, no doubt it was a long slumber either.

Bi-Han kept himself a busy man, refusing to rest. He was a man dedicated to his clan, and that was something you admired about him.

As the minutes went on, it became more and more apparent how tired Bi-Han was. He kept rubbing his eyes, his yawns became longer and louder, he was struggling to stay awake, often jumping in between consciousness and unconsciousness. His iron resolve was waning.

Bi-Han was upset with himself, he is the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he shouldn't let things let tiredness get the better of him. Yet here he was failing to stay conscious. What made things even worse was the fact that someone else was there to witness this weakness. Worse of all, it's you witnessesing it.

Bi-Han felt strange around, he always found the need to try to be at his best around you. he wanted to impress you with his strength and dominance. So the fact that he was showing such weakness made him feel ashamed. "Bi-Han, are you all right?" You asked. "Of course I am. And it is grandmaster to you."

The battle with his eyelids gets worse and worse. He sometimes dozes off for a second and snaps back awake.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, much less construct a proper sentence, his words soon began to sky around and make less an less sense.

All the walls he constructed about him to make him seem strong slowly faded away. It seemed more and more okay to be like this around you. This was you he was talking about after all, your one of the most understanding and kindest and most beautiful people he knew, surely you wouldn't judge him.

With another yawn, Bi-Han let his mind slip for just a second and he slowly lied down...on your lap. Before you could say anything, there he was nuzzled calmly on your thighs, and you were terrified.

This is the closest you've ever been to the grandmaster, and he was even cuter like this than he is awake.

If you looked at him asleep you'd never know he was such a mean person when awake, he looked so sweet that you swore that he looked like someone else.

You didn't dare move in fear of disturbing him as he peacefully drifted off. This moment was far too special that you didn't even want to ruin it.

After some time, you decided you wanted to take a risk. You took your hand and slowly began to pet his head, Bi-Han moans softly at your touch like a cat purring. By the gods, how could such man be so awful yet adorable at the same time?

In seconds Bi-Han was snoring softly and you felt your heart melt for him. Why couldn't he be like this all the time, that would make things much more easy for everyone, especially you.

Time goes by, but you don't even notice. You were to focus on keeping Bi-Han comfortable. You kept your legs propped up in a certain way to keep him balanced, but you feared that you couldn't keep this up for much longer, you could just feel yourself get uncomfortable. But you'll at least try to keep this up as long as possible.

As you softly stroked his head, you couldn't help but wonder just...why? Why did Bi-Han do this? Of all the places he could've rested his head, he chose to rest it on you. He couldn't have liked you, could he?

Oh, how your heart would explode if he ever confessed that he liked you the same way you liked him. It would be the greatest moment in all you life...you shake your head to get rid of this nonsense. You being ridiculous. Surely Bi-Han doesn't feel any such way about you....right?

You get lost in your thoughts, and in those moments you shift your legs just a little. Waking Bi-Han up in seconds. Figures an elite assassin would be such a light sleeper.

His head jumps up in and in that moment you see another part of him for the first time: fear. "What are you doing?! What happened?!?" His eyes darted form yo and down as he realizes what just happened, his cheeks begin to flush in embarrassment. He frantically looked around, he was spraying that not a single soul saw him doing such a thing.

Once he realizes that no one was around he breathes a sigh of relief. "Tell not a single soul about this okay, Y/n? O-or else I-I will punish you! I will do it!" He threatens, but you could just hear it in his voice that he was scared and there was no true bite behind his threat.

He immediately jumps up and speeds away to the door, but before exits he looks back to you. A slight longing is in his eyes, wishing that he could go back to resting in your lap. "Get some sleep, Y/n, We'll start up again in the morning." You just nod your head, "Good night, Bi-Han." You say with you kind smile

Bi-Han nods back, "Good night, Y/n." He struggles to smile back. And at that, you both went to sleep blushing.

[suskz]

Hi pretty!! Can i request something about seungmin or lee know being a dilf luv u!!

pairing: dad!Minho x fem!Reader

t/w: fluff ; smut ; single dad Minho ; babysitter reader ; reader is an adult ; oral (m!rec) ; piv sex.

w/c: around 2.5k

a/n: please dilf Minho is so 😵‍💫 my brain said SEX SEX SEX but my heart wanted more. I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Sometimes you think about how it could have happened, if it had to happen, and if all of this is wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a handsome man. He’s mature, responsible, and so, so sweet.

But you wonder if all of this is really necessary, as your phone rings inside your bag on the chair.

You both stop your movements, and your eyes meet again. It’s really embarrassing to be interrupted at this point.

His grip on your hair doesn’t change, “Do you want to answer?” He asks only out of politeness, because he doesn’t really want you to answer. He wants you to stay on your knees and let him continue without interruptions because damn, your mouth feels so good around him and he just can’t get enough of it.

You think about it for a few seconds, but the answer is already written in your eyes.

You shake your head without even taking his cock out of your mouth, and the sight is so hot that he moans just from that.

“You’re unreal.” His hand resumes guiding the movements of your head, “You look fucking gorgeous with your mouth full.”

You squeeze your legs together at the praise and don’t suppress the moan that his words elicit because you know it sends vibrations to his cock that drive him crazy.

That’s why his hips buck hard into your mouth, pushing his cock deeper and making you choke around it for a moment.

He stops, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head no and start moving it again on your own, back and forth, letting him know that you’re fine and want to continue.

“Such a good girl.” His hand holds your head still as his hips begin to move quickly, “Taking cock so well,” he’s no longer looking into your eyes; he’s watching the spot where his cock enters and exits your mouth now, “Like you were— made for it.”

His breathing has sped up again. Your phone has stopped ringing, and now the only sounds you can hear are his soft breaths and moans.

The tears forming in your eyes make them shiny. Your face is probably a mess, but what’s important is that he feels good inside your warm mouth.

And he does, because his hips start to stutter erratically.

It takes just one look at your face and he’s throwing his head back, urgently pulling his cock out of your mouth, stroking himself hard and fast through his climax.

You feel a bit disappointed, honestly, because you really wanted him to come inside your mouth, but you don’t complain when you feel the spurts of his hot cum land on your face. Some on your cheeks, some over your nose, even on your eyelashes and your still-outstretched tongue.

You didn’t even have time to close your mouth before he came, but it’s fine. At least you tasted it a little.

“Wait, don’t open your eyes.” You do as you’re told and feel him taking something. His hand delicately takes your chin to lift your face, and with a tissue, he wipes the com from your eyes so you can open them again without anything getting in.

You thank him as you sit on the bed next to him, taking the tissue he hands you to clean the rest of your face.

And you look at yourself in the mirror when you’re in front of the bathroom sink and feel something weighing on you. Your mind is empty, there are no thoughts bothering you, yet there’s something that makes you feel bad.

But everything gets better when you return to him and look at him. He’s so handsome, even as he does something as simple as gathering some papers into his work folder.

He glances up at you, “Do you need something?”

“Uh- no, just- I wanted to take Eunji to the park today, is that okay?” Yes, it is okay, it’s fine, it’s always fine if it’s with you, but you don’t know what else to come up with.

He chuckles, perhaps amused by the silliness of your question, “Of course, there’s no problem, you already know.”

And soon you part ways. He rushes to work, you rush to pick up the little girl from school.

His child. The daughter of the man you just gave a blowjob to. The daughter of the single man you’ve maybe gotten a little too close to in these past few months, and who might almost be your father’s age. But it’s okay like this.

—

"Can I taste yours?" Eunji looks at you with those puppy eyes that you can't say no to. She knows it and takes advantage of it, little brat.

Her eyes light up as she tastes your ice cream. She lowers her eyes to hers with a sad expression, "Yours is so good."

You roll your eyes at her unspoken but obvious request, "Want to swap?"

She looks at you with sparkling eyes and nods eagerly.

You smile sweetly at her, and it's at this moment that your phone vibrates in your pocket.

It's Minho.

You're confused by his message until you hear Eunji's voice and see her getting up, "There's daddy!" You turn your head in the direction she started running, and you see him, waiting for her with open arms.

He has such an affectionate, serene, and sincere smile as he picks her up and spins her a couple of times in his arms —gently, mindful of the ice cream she holds— that you can't take your eyes off them. And you can't help the way your heart melts at the sight and a smile forms on your lips.

You see him lick her ice cream and see them talking, but you don't understand what they're saying.

Then it's like he remembers your presence and turns to look at you. You watch as he approaches you, and you stand up.

“Come join us too, Y/n! Group hug!” Eunji’s words freeze you in place amidst the white flowers of the field, and even Minho’s shoulders seem to stiffen.

It all happens so quickly though. It has to happen quickly. Because there’s nothing wrong with hugging after everything you’ve done together. It should be normal, right? It should be natural for the two of you.

Yet you feel hesitant, and Minho seems slightly embarrassed. It’s just new. It’s strange to say, but it is. Many things have happened between the two of you, but never this.

You try not to think about it as you accept his invitation and position yourself between his arms, wrapping your arms around him and the little girl.

You try not to think about how this is the first time you’re hugging him and might be the last, as you unconsciously melt into his embrace and savor the moment for as long as it lasts.

And of course, sooner or later you have to let go.

“Why are you here at this hour?” You try to sound as normal as possible despite the slight —not so slight— discomfort.

“I didn’t quite understand it myself, but they let me go earlier.” He, on the other hand, shrugs and seems to be fine.

“Then Y/n can come home with us, and we can all be together!” The little girl, still in her father’s arms, cheers happily.

Minho chuckles, “She’ll have things to do too, don’t you think?” Then he turns to you, “You can leave early today.”

Actually, you would have preferred Eunji’s proposal, but you’re forced to go along with Minho’s.

The girl rests her head on her father’s shoulder and sighs sadly.

You and Minho look at each other, then he looks at her, “What’s wrong?” He asks her sweetly.

“I wanted Y/n to stay with us,” she says, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears, which she isn’t.

“I think Y/n would prefer to go home now, she must be tired.”

She sniffs, “Can she come for dinner at least?”

Minho seems to consider it. Oh, how he would enthusiastically say yes if he could, if only it didn’t seem weird.

Instead, he looks at you, the question already written in his eyes, “Would you like to? No pressure.”

Yet you feel the pressure anyway, from the weight of both their gazes, waiting for your response.

And so, a few hours later, you find yourself in front of Minho’s apartment door, dressed in your black shorts, chosen because of the heat.

When the door opens, you are greeted by a warm smile from Minho, holding a wooden spoon, and a hug from Eunji. Moments later, you’re in the kitchen, standing behind him as he moves around the stove expertly, and you feel so useless.

“I’d like to help, but I’d probably burn everything.”

There’s something good in this, because it makes him chuckle. “No problem,” he replies calmly, “I’m almost done anyway.”

“I want to be useful though.”

He turns towards you and raises an eyebrow, “Is it really you who’s saying that?”

Your cheeks tinge with a slight blush. You try to be helpful and he teases you like this.

“Sorry for trying to be useful once in a while.” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

He grins and turns back, “You can set the table while I finish.”

“It’ll be done!” you say, “By the way, that apron suits you really well.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised, then wrinkles his nose, “It makes me look like a cleaning lady or something; at least that’s what Eunji says.”

You laugh at his words, “Eunji is just a kid,” you reassure him. “I think it makes you look hot.” you add in a slightly lower voice.

Your eyes linger on him for just a second, but you swear you see his ears start to darken.

—

Dinner goes well, with a warm atmosphere and calm conversation.

Afterward, it’s Eunji who decides the plans. After all, you are there specifically for her. Or rather, at her request.

Time passes without you even noticing. Between board games and stories told by the little girl, you and Minho manage to find time to talk just between yourselves.

He holds back laughter while telling you about that time Jeongin, whoever he is, fell into a manhole, and his eyes sparkle as you talk about the saga you just finished watching.

When you finally glance at the clock, you regret not paying more attention.

You quickly get up, but Minho stops you, “Wait,” you freeze in your tracks, “It’s really too late, it would be dangerous to go out at this hour.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. He doesn’t want you to leave because he’s worried about you. And he doesn’t want you to leave because it’s a chance for him, a chance to spend precious time with you that he can’t let slip away now that it’s presented to him. 

“I don’t want to be a burden-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, “You won’t be a burden, I’m the one offering you to stay.” His voice is firm, and faced with his eyes so serious and determined, you agree to spend the night there.

After putting Eunji to bed, Minho quietly exits her room and finds himself facing you. You look into each other’s eyes, irises like chained together, and you smile at each other, amidst sentences and words kept hidden.

He prepares a space for you to sleep on the couch, and eventually, you both sit there, side by side.

“Eunji is really fond of you,” Minho says, looking down at his hands, “I think she sees in you something that I can’t be.” He lifts his eyes, meeting yours, understanding.

“You’re already enough for her; I’m just an addition.”

“You’re not an addition; you’re important to her.” He insists. And to me, he wants to add, but knows he can’t say that.

And then the unexpected happens. You don’t know who makes the first move, who leans in first, but it doesn’t matter when his lips are on yours, in a sweet kiss. A loving kiss ruined by wandering hands that force it to deepen.

But, fuck, you’d ruin it a thousand times over if it meant finding yourself beneath him every time, with his cock thrusting in and out of you in a needy, perhaps somewhat desperate way.

And you’re so wet that you know the bed sheets will need a good wash in the morning.

His voice is like a caress when he leans over you with his lips at your ear, “Shhh,” he whispers softly, “We don’t want to wake Eunji, do we?”

You are forced to bite your lower lip to stifle the sounds that want —need— to escape your lips.

But his thrusts are so well-aimed and deep, his hips so precise, and his moans released right into your ear so fucking arousing that you have to reach out and grab a pillow to place over your mouth.

He looks back at you, and a louder, needier moan leaves his parted lips, as his expression shifts from one of concentration to pure pleasure.

It’s only when you feel close that you move the pillow. “Minho, I’m close…” you warn him.

“Me too,” he groans, “Come with me.”

“Yes, yes, yes! J-just a little more, please.”

He does his best to hold back a little longer, and it only takes a few circles on your clit to make you come, tightening around his cock that finishes inside the condom.

He doesn’t realise it immediately, too caught up in the pleasure, but as he tries to catch his breath, he thinks about it and realizes.

“I love you- Minho, I-” You said it just before coming; it might have been something of the moment.

He lifts his head from where it’s resting in the crook of your neck and looks at you.

You are motionless, embarrassed, regretful. Because, fuck, you didn’t really need to say it. You could have realised the gravity of your words before saying them.

And Minho could pretend nothing happened. He could act like he didn’t hear it, and you could go on as usual. But, fuck, he can’t.

The words escape his lips before he can stop them, “Did you really mean it?” He’s so direct, a request so desperate.

And you could say, “No, it was just the heat of the moment.” but apparently, that’s not really an option for you, because you speak without thinking twice, and you couldn’t feel freer when he smiles and kisses you. His soft lips on yours, in a moment you both have been waiting for so long.

And when the next morning he wakes up first and observes your sleeping face and relaxed body, he couldn’t feel happier.

Because he doesn’t have to hide anything from you anymore.

Because you love him too.

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: Suits

G/N. Silly. You wonder about their outfits. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo). Non plot panel spoilers for 505 under cut!

Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

"Why do you always wear suits to fight?" You ask the four men lounging in your living room.

You hold up their dry cleaning. "A. It's costing a fortune to clean and B. Aren't, I dunno, track pants comfier?"

"I don't." Johan pipes up and you get the urge to pat him on the head. His custom God Dog designs are frankly adorable.

It is utterly charming having him show you the latest outfit he has drawn. With a logo and everything. He never explicitly asks what you think, but you know he seeks your approval anyway.

"Not you," you agree, giving Johan a warm smile that makes him avert his eyes and his ears turn pink.

The rest of the guys, Samuel, Jake and Eli exchange shifty glances at your questions.

"And there's no way-" You hold up a rag. You assume it must have been a Big Deal jacket at some point before it was torn up, "-They said they can repair this. They said I was out of my mind."

Jake had surmised it was a long shot. It was technically missing the lapels. And sleeves. And had long gashes down the back so most of it was ripped off and in tatters.

You're not wrong that it's costing a lot and he thought he would chance a repair instead of having to get a new jacket for Lineman.

You're right, unfortunately. He's going to have to look into some tracksuits instead.

"Thanks for trying," he says with a shrug.

The thing is, the Big Deal uniform just looks cool. Men in suits, who doesn't like that?

Samuel pre-Workers and pre-Big Deal also favoured suits because of how it looked. Authoritative. Like he means business. He wasn't a huge fan of the Workers white but the status that came along with it more than compensated for the colour.

Eli was convinced during the Fifth Affiliates when he was provided made-to-measure Workers suits to represent the crew. Warren and Max and Derrick didn't need much convincing after the girls oohed and aahed over it.

Except the Hostel budget didn't stretch to nice tailored suits, so they had to settle for black shirts and pants.

Still. That was cool enough.

But they can't admit that.

It's embarrassing to let you know they base their whole outfit on what looks good because truth be told, they can barely stretch in those things.

The material isn't made for high kicks and full body slams and sudden movements.  One lunge and they risk a split along the asscrack.

It's why their clothes end up torn off so often.

And yes, there has been awkward popped buttons or ripped seams during inopportune moments mid fight when even Gun Park's eyes momentarily flickered down to exposed underwear or an ass cheek hanging out.

But goddamn, the aesthetics.

"It's comfortable," Eli says unconvincingly, as you raise an eyebrow at his answer.

Somewhere to your right, you hear Johan mutter, "Liar."

[estapa-edwards]

Sunshine was so pretty and cute! Can I request anything with golden retriever boy (you decide) x black cat reader please?

BLACK CAT - W.SMITH

paring: will smith x reader

word count: 3.1

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

I aged them up, will didn't sign yet!

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I always preferred the library to the hockey rink. There’s a certain comfort in the quiet rustling of pages, the soft hum of the air conditioning, and the knowledge that within these walls, I could be anyone, go anywhere, without ever having to leave my seat. That’s why, when I heard the raucous cheering coming from the direction of the Conte Forum, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Another game, another excuse for the entire campus to lose its collective mind over a bunch of guys chasing a puck around on ice. 

I’m a sophomore at Boston College. My friends like to joke that I’m a black cat in human form—aloof, independent, and not easily impressed. It’s not that I dislike people; I just prefer my own company, or that of a good book, over the chaos that seems to follow my classmates around.

So, when I found myself outside the Conte Forum on that frigid January night, it wasn’t by choice. I was on my way to the library, my sanctuary, when a particularly loud cheer broke through the stillness of the evening. I paused for a moment, glancing at the entrance where students were streaming in, faces alight with excitement. Hockey was a big deal here, and the star of the team, Will Smith, was practically a campus legend.

I had heard of Will Smith, of course. It was impossible not to. He was the golden boy of Boston College hockey, a junior who had been racking up goals and assists since his freshman year. He had the kind of charisma that made people gravitate towards him—a golden retriever personality, as my friend Lucy liked to say. Always smiling, always friendly, and somehow always surrounded by a crowd of admirers.

I, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Where he was outgoing, I was reserved. Where he was the life of the party, I was the shadow in the corner, quietly observing. I had no interest in the Will Smiths of the world. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

--- --- --- 

I was deep into my third cup of coffee and the sixth chapter of my history textbook when I heard the commotion. The library was usually a haven of peace, but tonight it was invaded by the victorious chants and laughter of the hockey team. The door swung open, and there he was, Will Smith, flanked by his teammates, all of them still in their jerseys, exuding an infectious energy that shattered the quiet.

I tried to ignore them, burying my face deeper into my book, but it was no use. They were loud, and Will was at the center of it all, his laughter ringing out above the rest. I glanced up, just for a moment, and our eyes met. He smiled—of course, he did—and I quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed me. No such luck.

“Hey, you!” he called out, striding over to my table. “Y/N, right?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Yes?”

“I’m Will,” he said, as if I didn’t already know. “Mind if I join you?”

I did mind, actually, but I couldn’t find the words to say it. Before I could respond, he had pulled out a chair and sat down, his teammates scattering to other parts of the library. I stared at him, wondering what on earth he wanted with me.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said, leaning forward with that disarming grin of his. “You’re always so focused. What are you studying?”

“History,” I replied curtly, hoping he’d get the hint and leave me alone.

“Cool,” he said, unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. “I’m a business major, but I’ve always thought history was interesting. So many stories, you know?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Why was he here, talking to me of all people?

“Listen,” he said after a moment, his tone more serious. “I know you probably don’t care about hockey, but I wanted to invite you to our next game. It’s this Friday, and I think you’d have a good time.”

I almost laughed. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s exciting,” he said simply. “And I think you could use a little excitement in your life.”

His words stung, and I bristled. “I’m perfectly happy with my life, thank you very much.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No offense meant. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Well, now you’ve asked,” I said, closing my book with a definitive snap. “And my answer is no.”

Will studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I watched as he got up and rejoined his friends, their laughter fading as they left the library. I sighed, trying to shake off the strange encounter and refocus on my studies. But I couldn’t help feeling a tiny spark of curiosity about the boy with the golden smile and relentless optimism

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, I couldn’t seem to escape Will Smith. He was everywhere—at the library, the dining hall, even in some of my classes. It was as if he had made it his mission to be a part of my life, whether I wanted him there or not.

“Hey, Y/N!” he’d call out, waving enthusiastically whenever he saw me. “How’s it going?”

I’d nod politely, giving the bare minimum of a response before retreating back into my shell. But he was undeterred, always ready with a joke, a smile, or a casual comment that somehow managed to brighten my day, despite my best efforts to ignore him.

One afternoon, as I was leaving my literature class, I found him waiting outside the door. “Walk you to your next class?” he asked, falling into step beside me before I could refuse.

“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to be my friend,” I said, stopping in my tracks to face him. “We’re nothing alike. You’re… you, and I’m me. It doesn’t make sense.”

Will shrugged, his smile softening. “Maybe I like a challenge. Or maybe I see something in you that you don’t see in yourself.”

I frowned, not knowing how to respond to that. He seemed so genuine, so earnest, that it was hard to stay annoyed with him. “Well, I don’t need a friend,” I said finally. “Especially not one like you.”

He looked momentarily hurt but quickly recovered, that infuriating grin back in place. “Okay. But I’m not giving up that easily.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, more confused than ever. Why was he so determined to be a part of my life? And why did a part of me secretly enjoy his attention?

--- --- --- 

Despite my best efforts to keep my distance, Will’s persistence began to wear me down. He’d show up at the library with coffee, sit with me in the dining hall, and even convinced me to study with him a few times. He was always so upbeat, so positive, that it was hard not to be affected by his energy.

One Friday night, I found myself at a loose end. My usual plans had fallen through, and I was sitting in my dorm room, feeling unusually restless. I remembered Will’s invitation to the hockey game and, against my better judgment, decided to go. Maybe a change of scenery would do me good.

The arena was packed. I found a seat towards the back, hoping to remain unnoticed. The game was fast-paced and intense, and for the first time, I understood why people loved it so much. The players moved with a grace and precision that was mesmerizing, and the crowd’s energy was infectious.

Will was, unsurprisingly, the star of the show. He skated with a confidence and skill that left me in awe. Watching him, I felt a strange mix of pride and admiration. He looked up at the stands at one point, and our eyes met. He grinned and waved, and I felt a warmth spread through me that I couldn’t explain.

After the final buzzer sounded and the team secured their victory, the crowd erupted into cheers. I watched as Will and his teammates celebrated on the ice, the sheer joy on his face unmistakable. Part of me wanted to stay, to congratulate him in person, but the other part—the part that feared getting too close, too fast—won out.

I slipped out of the arena, blending into the crowd of students heading back to their dorms or out to celebrate. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the heat and noise of the rink, and I breathed deeply, trying to steady the fluttering in my chest. My footsteps echoed in the quiet as I made my way back to my dorm, lost in thought.

Later that night, as I was curled up with a book, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Will.

Will: Hey, I saw you at the game tonight! Thanks for coming 😊

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding. I hesitated for a moment before typing my reply.

Me: You played really well. Congrats on the win!

His response came almost immediately.

Will: Thanks! It means a lot that you were there. Can we meet up tomorrow? I’d love to talk.

I bit my lip, uncertainty gnawing at me. But I couldn’t deny that part of me wanted to see him, to hear what he had to say.

Me: Okay. How about the coffee shop on campus? Around 10 AM?

Will: Perfect. See you then!

I set my phone down, my mind racing. What did he want to talk about? And why was I so nervous about it? As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow’s conversation would change everything 

--- --- --- 

The next morning, I arrived at the coffee shop a few minutes early, my stomach in knots. I found a quiet corner table and ordered a latte, hoping it would help calm my nerves. As I stirred my drink absentmindedly, I saw Will walk in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. He smiled, that same disarming smile that had started to chip away at my defenses.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, sitting down across from me. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“No problem,” I replied, trying to sound casual. “Congrats again on the game. You were amazing out there.”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Thanks. It was a good night.”

There was a brief, awkward silence, and I took a sip of my latte, waiting for him to speak. He seemed nervous, which was unlike him, and it only made me more anxious.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said finally, looking me in the eye. “I know I’ve been kind of persistent lately, and I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

I shook my head. “No, you haven’t. It’s just… I’m not used to people like you.”

“People like me?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Outgoing, popular, always the center of attention,” I explained. “I’m more of a background kind of person.”

Will nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. And I’m not trying to change you, Y/N. I like you for who you are. I just… I want to get to know you better. Be your friend.”

His sincerity caught me off guard, and I felt a lump form in my throat. “Why me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re different,” he said simply. “You’re smart, kind, and you see the world in a way that I don’t. I think we could learn a lot from each other.”

I looked down at my hands, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of me was still wary, afraid of getting hurt. But another part of me, the part that had started to warm up to him, wanted to take a chance.

“Okay,” I said finally, meeting his gaze. “Let’s give it a try.”

Will’s face lit up with a smile that made my heart flutter. “Great. So, friends?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Friends.

--- --- --- 

Our coffee outings became a regular thing. Will was easy to talk to, and I found myself opening up to him in ways I hadn’t with anyone else. He had a way of making me feel comfortable, of drawing me out of my shell without pushing too hard.

One evening, as we were walking back to campus, he asked me about my family. It was a subject I rarely talked about, but with Will, it felt natural.

“My parents are divorced,” I said quietly. “I live with my mom, and we’re close. My dad… not so much.”

Will nodded, his expression sympathetic. “That sounds tough. My parents are still together, but I can’t imagine what it would be like if they weren’t.”

“It’s not easy,” I admitted. “But you get used to it. My mom’s amazing, and she’s always been there for me.”

He smiled, a soft, understanding smile that made my heart ache in a way I didn’t quite understand. “I’m glad you have her. And you know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Thanks, Will. That means a lot.”

As the weeks went by, our friendship deepened. We spent more and more time together, and I found myself looking forward to our meetings. Will was like a ray of sunshine in my otherwise quiet life, and I began to realize that maybe, just maybe, I was starting to like him as more than a friend.

It was a crisp spring evening when it happened. We were sitting on a bench in the campus park, watching the sunset. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sky was a canvas of vibrant colors.

“Y/N,” Will said softly, turning to face me. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. “I like you. More than a friend. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. I had suspected it, of course, but hearing him say it out loud was different. It made it real.

“I know we’re different,” he continued, his voice steady. “But I think that’s what makes us work. You balance me out, and I like to think I bring a little light into your life.”

He was right, of course. He did bring light into my life, and I had come to cherish it. But I was scared—scared of what it would mean to let him in completely.

“I don’t know, Will,” I said finally, my voice trembling. “I’m not like you. I don’t know if I can be what you need.”

He reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to be anything other than yourself, Y/N. That’s all I want. Just you.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and hope there. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith, to let myself believe in the possibility of something more.

“Okay,” I whispered, a smile spreading across my face. “Let’s give it a try.”

Will’s face lit up with joy, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy, and I knew that whatever happened, we’d face it together.

--- --- --- 

It was a crisp spring evening when it happened. We were sitting on a bench in the campus park, watching the sunset. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sky was a canvas of vibrant colors.

“Y/N,” Will said softly, turning to face me. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. “I like you. More than a friend. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. I had suspected it, of course, but hearing him say it out loud was different. It made it real.

“I know we’re different,” he continued, his voice steady. “But I think that’s what makes us work. You balance me out, and I like to think I bring a little light into your life.”

He was right, of course. He did bring light into my life, and I had come to cherish it. But I was scared—scared of what it would mean to let him in completely.

“I don’t know, Will,” I said finally, my voice trembling. “I’m not like you. I don’t know if I can be what you need.”

He reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to be anything other than yourself, Y/N. That’s all I want. Just you.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and hope there. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith, to let myself believe in the possibility of something more.

“Okay,” I whispered, a smile spreading across my face. “Let’s give it a try.”

Will’s face lit up with joy, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy, and I knew that whatever happened, we’d face it together.

As we pulled back, I caught his gaze, and something shifted in the air between us. The world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. Slowly, almost tentatively, Will leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

Time seemed to slow as his lips brushed mine, softly at first, then with more certainty. The kiss was sweet and tender, filled with all the emotions we’d been holding back. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the moment, feeling a warmth spread through me that chased away all my doubts and fears.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. Will’s eyes were bright with happiness and something deeper, something that mirrored my own feelings.

“Wow,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. “That was…”

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He laughed softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Yeah, it was.”

We sat there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the world around us fading into the background. In that moment, I knew that we had taken the first step toward something beautiful and enduring. And for the first time, I felt ready to embrace whatever the future held, as long as it included Will by my side.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Cuddling Firefly. Please

(Honkai: Star Rail) Cuddling with Firefly

Firefly will blush from S/O's request to cuddle, at least at first.

She didn't need much convincing to do so, especially when she feels how warm S/O's arms are, resting her head back on their shoulders while arms snuggly wrapped around her waist.

(Firefly) "A-Ah...!"

(S/O) "Are you okay?"

S/O moves to let go, but they're stopped when Firefly quickly grabs their wrists and lets it stay as is.

(Firefly) "Yes I...I'm just not used to this, is all."

Her smile is slowly getting bigger and bigger, feeling her body start to relax completely. She could feel the stress from her shoulders fade as she adjusted herself to get as close to S/O as possible.

Firefly would generally prefer to be the little spoon, but she has no qualms with letting S/O lay their head on her lap.

Other than the blush that's burning just as hot as her thrusters.

Any chance she gets, Firefly will want to snuggle into S/O in any way, it helps get her mind off darker thoughts, and spending any chance she can with someone she loved was a short-lived blessing.

Everytime they're close to each other, Firefly always giggles and kisses S/O gently on the lips, forehead, or cheek before closing her eyes.

She doesn't need sleep, but Firefly commits every second feeling S/O close to memory.

===

BONUS:

(Firefly) "You...want to cuddle with me in my armor...?"

(S/O) "I just wonder how it would feel."

Firefly opens her mouth to protest, but can't find anything particularly wrong with the request.

She could actively control when the weapons or thrusters are online, so it's not like there was a risk of accidentally hurting S/O.

(Firefly) "Um...S-Sure. Please stand back for a moment.

In the blink of an eye, the armor forms around Firefly in a blazing second, which the helmet turned to S/O and her cute voice rung out from the external comms.

(Firefly) "I'm...ready?"

She sat down on the couch, with it almost threatening to break as she did so, and S/O promptly joined her.

They sat at a very strange angle, almost having to be bridal carried as they sat down and laid their head on her massive shoulders.

(S/O) "..."

(Firefly) "...This can't be comfortable for you."

(S/O) "It's...not."

(Firefly) "Then why are you-?"

(S/O) "I was always just curious to how it felt and now I know."

S/O didn't need to see past the helmet to understand how confused Firefly was right now.

(Firefly) "As long as it makes you happy?"

[somewhereincairparavel]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write Jason x daughter of Apollo reader who’s always overworking herself at the infirmary

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when the skies are gray"

author's note: I intended it to be full fluffy but I made it hurt comfort instead, I hope you don't mind <3

Jason hadn't seen you in days…. recently the infirmary was packed with patients, Jason literally being one of the dozens. The apollo healers were at their peak of pressure. You were performing stitches while the others were performing surgeries. After all the chaotic rush cooled down a little, you told Will to take some rest, while you checked off the list of patients that were admitted in your notepad.

That was when Jason stepped inside the infirmary, you didn't even notice until jason vigorously back hugged you.

“What?” You snapped, you were exhausted and didn't really want to see anyone at the moment, not even your boyfriend. Jason pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling brightly while giving them to you. What a sweetheart.

Unfortunately, you had too much coffee and that made you cranky.

“thanks. Put them in the vase.” You said, not taking your eyes off of your notepad while aloofly gesturing to the empty vase on your desk.

You felt Jason frown genuinely. He put the flowers inside the vase as you asked him too, which you did albeit a little coldly. But he knew you were stressed out, so he didn't think much of it. He put a hand on your shoulder gently and moved closer to whisper in your ear.

“sunshine, don't you think you should be taking a break? You look exhausted and you didn't show up to dinner yesterday, have you even eaten? Be honest please” he asked in concern

You always loved Jason's worried mom behavior because you thought it was endearing, but today, the pressure levels of the past few days, witnessing your siblings in distress because they failed to save one patient, watching fellow campers in physical pain, just got too much, that you snapped.

“I am FINE Jason! Just because I didn't show up yesterday does not mean I didn't eat. Have you considered the possibility that I had food sent to me over here in the infirmary? Gosh.. can't you see I'm busy? Why are you so overbearing? Leave me alone, please.” you regretted your words the moment they spilled out. Jason looked like a kicked puppy, as a flash of hurt went through his eyes. But they disappeared almost immediately as his eyes were replaced with steely coldness.

“I was just checking on you, babe. because I was worried.....tell me how many of your friends have actually come in to see how you were, the past week?” He asked, with a dangerously calm and steady voice, staring at you deeply while making a very fair point. That's what happens when you were raised in the most unemotional camp ever. You switch back to your old ways.

You looked at him a little stunned, and were unable to respond to his question. Because you had no answer. Nobody apart from your siblings had come to check on you, up until Jason arrived.

“Exactly. So if you think that me caring about my girlfriend’s health and being worried about her is “overbearing” then fine. If you continue to push me away when I clearly mean well, then so be it. I hope you like the flowers, and please, for the love of god, get some rest. We'll talk when you're feeling less mad” he added.

But this time, you could've sworn that his voice was shaky and that broke you. You had never said mean stuff to him like this before, and this time, it had clearly affected him. He had done nothing but be sweet to you. Even now, he was talking you calmly without telling at your outburst.

You watched miserably as Jason walked out of the infirmary. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you reached your breaking point of the week. You had officially pushed away the one person who loves you more than anything. Simply because you were stubborn to hear him out.

It was currently 1:00 AM, and you finally collected yourself to go apologize to Jason. You needed to fix what you broke before it was too late. You found yourself staring at the flowers he'd oh so happily given you before you ruined his mood.

You tentatively stepped into his cabin, trying to make as less noise as possible. You couldn't wait until morning for this, you missed him to death. Jason was sleeping quietly, he was never the one for snoring, he wasn't a deep sleeper either, so every time you had even accidentally brushed against him, he'd wake up with a jolt.

You gently got into his bed, and wrapped your arms around him from behind while burying your face into his hair. This time though, he didn't wake up with an alert jolt. Instead, he took your hands and tightened your grip around himself.

“You're awake?” You whispered to him curiously.

“Well, what do you think?” Jason whispered back, the smile in his voice evident. He turned around to face you, and you held his cheeks with both your hands, softly stroking them. He was staring at you, this time, any trace of coldness had vanished. You took a few seconds to admire his gorgeous eyes before you spoke.

“Jason… I'm sorry… I didn't mean anything I said. I really didn't.. I was just feeling cranky about how shitty my week had been, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you.. I had no right, especially not when you were so sweet abou-” you were cut off with his lips pressing on yours.

“That's okay, love. I know you didn't mean it, I just wanted to give you space to think everything through. I was never mad. Just upset that you were overworking yourself too much.” he replied after pulling away.

You teared up again.

“I love you so much.” You said, pressing your forehead onto his. He smiled brightly.

“I love you too. Now, do you want to talk about how you've been feeling? You need it, Let it out babe. I'm always here.”

Both of you spent the rest of the night, talking about each other's feelings and cuddling. Jason felt fulfilled as he saw you peacefully napping, getting the rest you deserve.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.” He whispered, kissing your hair.

[prentissluvr]

give and take — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ open ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x clingy!gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : major fluff ➖⟢ cw : very little plot but it's very cute, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 0.7K

loving sam has many benefits. first and foremost, the act of loving him in itself is what you consider to be a complete honor. and him loving you back? well that’s so goddamn special, so one-of-a-kind and beyond priceless that it’s practically unfathomable. of course, you’d never change it for the world, but you still wonder sometimes if it’s possible to be just as lucky as you are, to love and be loved by him.

in the still hours of the night, when you voice such a thought, and sam is softer and sleepier than he is in the hours of the sun, he’ll tell you it’s not luck, not even serendipity. it’s how things are meant to be, that it is completely by the hands of kismet. you laugh, quiet and soft, teasing him about how he doesn’t need to use a fancy word like kismet; he could have just said fate. all he has in response to that is to tell you, if it was somehow by chance, he’d be the lucky one.

whatever it is, serendipity or kismet, all you know is that having him is the most honey-sweet, happy thing in the whole entire vastness of the universe. it stands in stark contrast with the everyday violence and gore of the truth of this world, and that makes the light in his eyes as he looks at you all the brighter. you relish in the way that he’s extra gentle, extra soft and pliable in your hands, just for you. that is one of those many benefits, and you take advantage when you can.

you’ve just fished some new files from the store room of the bunker, hoping to find some useful information for the case you’re working on. before they’re in sight, you hear sam and dean talking; the elder of the two must have returned from his food run and is checking on yours and sam’s progress in research. 

the two are standing in the main room as you round the corner, and dean, facing you, sees you first, acknowledging your presence with a nod and slight smile. sam doesn’t even have to turn his head because he knows your footsteps anywhere. the sound of files hitting the table behind him makes him expect what comes next; your arms snaking around his middle from behind and your cheek pressed against his back. 

him and dean just keep talking, both unphased by your display of affection, but when you don’t budge for a full minute, sam gets antsy. he wants his hands on you, too. of course, he’s had one hand resting on your own since the moment you hugged him from behind, but it’s not quite enough.

“well, i say we give it a shot,” sam says, his left hand shifting to grab onto your right. “it seems like this might be our best bet,” he continues, tugging on your hand hard enough to get you to follow his pull. he lifts his right arm in the air, making space for you to duck underneath it before you settle into hugging him from the front. that way, he gets to wrap his arms around you, one hand to your waist and the other splayed across your shoulder blades.

you can’t see it all snuggled up close to him—dean can and he secretly delights in it despite it being the kind of thing he loves to tease about—but there’s a light, content smile on sam’s face, a softness to his eyes now that he gets to hold you. his hand moves up and down your back, such a soothing and sturdy touch.

he loves it when you take so he can give and give and give. he loves that you find comfort from being close to him and he loves that you don’t hesitate to seek it out.

you’re not even upset by anything right now, maybe a little tired if anything, but sam couldn’t care less. his opinion that you deserve comfort and softness and ease at any moment you like is completely unmovable. so he always lets you take that from him, encourages it, even. because he adores you to the edges of endless heaven and back, and because your arms around him or your head on his shoulder or your arm looped through his give him just what he needs. 

because you’ll take and he’ll give, then you’ll give and give and give just like he does until he learns to take too.

[indecenthoney]

Burnt Out Bestie

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

It's that time of year again, we all survived such a long and exhausting year, but life just never gets any easier. I'd like to remind people that you'll always be busy, so when there is a moment to breathe, enjoy it and live in the present. Buttttttt even then... I can imagine a couple of you working your asses off... Luck for you... I'm actually really good at helping people relax...

"There you are... I was wondering where you were... You look like absolute shit... What? I'm just telling you what I see.... Here give me that... So tough day at work? Mhm... Well you can go freshen up and slip into something more comfortable... Ah no no no... You are not going to bed just yet... YOU will meet me at the couch as soon as you're done, okay? I'll be waiting... and if you don't show up... I will drag you outside whether you like it or not... Understand?"

Listen. Everyone needs a change of pace or life becomes a little too dull. I honestly believe we are here to enjoy our lives to the fullest. Even the littlest of things can turn our whole day around. I know what it's like to be tired, so if I had the power to help anyway I can I would.

"Heyyy you made it... I really appreciate that... Now take a seat while I fix us up some drinks... Oh that? Welll if all things go well... I hope that we can both relax, talk, and eventually fall asleep on the couch together... Sound good? Hey no... No running away... C'mon please? I made us hot cocoa..."

Can you really say no to someone that made you hot cocoa? It's fullproof! I have some pretty cute tendencies if I do say so myself. I make these little hot cocoa bombs that you can just plop into hot milk. It's packed with all the stuff you need for hot cocoa! Plus marshmellows! Need to stir? I always make sure to stop by the store to buy us some kitkats for us to help with stirring. You'd be spoiled if you were with me.

"One for you and... one for me... It's getting kinda chilly again so I also brought us a weighted blanket... So? What you waiting for? You gonna just stare at me all night or are you going to come under the sheets with me? Right here... Yes my lap! The best seat in the house... C'mon hurry so I can wrap us up! There we go... Comfy? Just let me grab that for you... Taste good?"

It really is bliss to be warm and comfy during a chilly day. Having her lean back into me as she sips her chocolate. Wrapping my arms around and placing my chin over head. A chance to finally relax. A long long long sigh followed by the most toe curling stretch.

"Oh? Big stretch... You... doing okay? You're kinda squirming a lot... Hot? I mean yeah... you did drink hot chocolate so I'm hoping it's doing it job... Now relax dude... Just lay back into me and get some rest... Okay? You did a lot today... Think of this as a reward to yourself..."

Cuddling up to your bestfriend on a quiet chilly night. Bliss. Having her squirm and rub against you trying to get as close to you as possible. Not understanding why she's feeling so needy. Doing whatever she can to get my attention but only being able to rub and whimper in my embrace. Did I mention I might have spiked the cocoa? Chocolate bomb molds can be made with melted chocolate but then I also learned about horny chocolates. Melted them down as the base for my cocoa bombs.

"What's wrong, sweetie? You're being awfully loud for someone whose tired... How can I help? What? Did you want my attention? I won't be able to understand a thing with you whimpering and looking at me with those little puppy dog eyes... Please? What a needy bestie... Why didn't you just say so? Why don't we have a look shall we?"

Pulling her pajamas down revealing her cute soaked panties. My hands wandering down to gently inspect the fabric. Quiet moans echoing through our house. Doing her best to hold back the noise as her eyes roll back in pleasure. Hugging my arm as I extend it downward for a better angle to rub her in. No words exchanged. Just her heavy breathes filling the air taking it as a sign for her permission.

Gently teasing her. Tapping on her clit with my middle finger. The whimpers grow louder as she waits in anticipation. Too dumb to beg; only sign of communication is her squiriming in my arms. I hear a little knockat the door. Covering her mouth with my hand as i plunge my fingers deep inside. Keeping her quiet. I have no idea who's at the door. Neighbors? Friends? Christmas Carollers? Who cares. Keeping her quiet as I slowly but roughly make my way through the deepest parts of her pussy. Pressing against her g spot every chance I get.

"Don't make any sound now... We don't want them hearing you now, do we? That's a good girl... You can do it... Just moan into my hand... That's it... You're doing so good... Just one more finger okay? Nonono... Shhh shhhh... It's okay you can take it... I know you can... Mhm... That's my good girl..."

Being rough on purpose; giving us the slight chance of being heard. It's exciting. Giving her the pleasure she needs to melt that brain of hers. She honestly works too hard. Some people don't know how to take a break. Watching her tremble and grip on my clothes... Spasming from the orgasms... Watching her eyes roll back from the pleasure. Quietly taking it as I rail her mercilessly with my fingers.

"Oh? I think they left... I'm sorry for bullying you, sweetie... I couldn't help myself... It's okay... Just take it easy... I'll make you feel good... Yes yes... I love you too... spread those legs as far as you can for me, okay? Can you hear how wet you are? You really need this, don't you? It's okay... It's your day off... We can do this all day if you'd like... "

Giving her the full princess treatment. Biting and kissing her ear. Groping her tits and pulling on her nipples. Fucking her silly with my middle finger. Slamming down into her making indecent sounds. Making her lick the juices of my fingers every now and then. Having her taste herself while I whisper sweet nothings. Doing it over and over until she falls asleep from exhaustion.

Once she's all tired out. I clean her up and carry her to bed. Tuck her in; kissing her forehead as I say my good nights

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

Get some rest,

Honey

[annwrites]

i feel the same.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (part of a series)

— summary: you & billy have breakfast together & talk a bit more before he drops you off near home. scott gets a taste of his own medicine when he loses you forever.

— tags: fuck scott, all my homies hate scott. love billy, all my homies love billy. travis is there too.

— tw: mentions of grooming, eating

— word count: 3,318

— a/n: i know this chapter is shorter, but there's only 3 left after this one & 2/3 will be of a similar length.

— tag list: @stoneyweezin @ganjas-shit

You and Billy eat breakfast together, only the radio playing softly in the background as you take a bite of your French toast.

He glances up to you. “If you’re still hungry after, I can make more. Whatever you want.”

You don’t know how to react to the kindness he shows you. What you’ve done to possibly deserve it. No man had ever treated you in such a way before. You can’t even lump Travis in with him, because if it wasn’t for the sex…

You nod, taking another bite.

You then look back to him from under your lashes, memories of last night returning. Him…shooting down your offer. “Why didn’t you want to have sex with me?” You ask quietly.

His head shoots up, brows furrowing.

It’s not that you would’ve wanted to. If he had… Whatever small shred of you that was still present when he took you into his arms as he held you—as you fell apart in them—would’ve died the moment he shoved himself inside of you, taking another piece of you away for his own carnal pleasure.

The last piece of you.

“That’s just…never happened to me before. Do…do you think I’m ugly?”

He shakes his head, swallowing, reaching a callused hand toward you, resting it atop your own. “You know I don’t. I told you Thursday that I thought—think—you’re beautiful. I knew in that moment that you…were far away from me. I could never do something like that to you and live with myself after. The last thing I ever want is to be yet one more man that’s hurt you. Taken advantage.”

“But…you said when you were my age—about getting laid-”

He shakes his head. “It may not seem it, but that was a long time ago. And I’m not saying it was always right—me just…” He sighs. “I know some of the girls I slept with had been hoping for more from me, while I knew I had just been using them for one thing. If I could take it all back, I would. All I can do now is learn from my past mistakes, and make sure I never make them ever again. Honestly, I haven’t had sex with anyone since I was eighteen.”

He looks to you, grinning. “I went celibate.”

You wonder what that must be like: getting to not have sex. It’s never been a choice for you. Not since shortly after you turned fourteen. Your body then belonged to others to use as they saw fit, when they saw fit.

How could you have ever thought what you and he had was love?

Your skin crawls at every memory of him—seeing him in an entirely different light now. And certainly not a flattering one. God, you fucking hate him. How you had swung from one extreme to the other in not even twenty-four hours…

You’d truly never thought you would ever feel anything else for him other than complete adoration.

You had been so stupid. So blind.

But now you saw crystal-clear.

You take another bite of your food. “I don’t want to go home.”

Tears sting your eyes when you say it. You refuse to look at him after doing so. You know you can’t stay here. You feel pathetic for practically insinuating that you want to. You can’t make yourself his problem. He’s still a stranger to you…isn’t he?

You wonder if he regrets ever meeting you.

Especially after last night.

You would.

If you could leave you, too, you would.

He leans in toward you. “If you want to stay here, you’re more than welcome-”

You can’t let him finish that offer. If he does, you might just take it. But then they would find you. And they would hurt him. And it would be all your fault.

That you couldn’t live with.

Couldn’t.

You shake your head. “I can’t, anyway. Legally, I guess. I’m still seventeen. So, if I was reported missing and found here…” You trail off.

He sits back, thinking for a moment. “When do you turn eighteen?”

You take another small bite. “At the end of this week. The same day I graduate, actually. Last week was my last week in school.”

He nods. “Do you think you can hold on for that long? Maybe, when you can, you either come here or to the other house. Just…stay away from all of them as much as possible. Once that time is up, you’re free to go and do as you please. You won’t ever have to see them again. I…I have an extra bedroom. I’m just using it for storage right now. It’s just…if you need a safe place to go—to live…”

He trails off, now nervous. He hopes to God that you don’t misconstrue his offer.

You grow quiet and he begins to sweat. Perhaps if he’d used different wording…

“What would you expect in repayment?”

“Nothing. Just for you to be happy. That’s it. I wouldn’t touch you.”

You look at him, trying to picture yourself making a home here, alongside him. As friends? Housemates? What if he eventually found a woman he wanted to be with? You being here would only serve to complicate things, if not drive her away entirely. And then he would come to resent you for ruining his life.

Not like you wouldn’t anyway just by being near him. That’s what you did.

You ruined everything.

Unclean…

Maybe he had a hard life growing up. But nothing like yours. He would never understand you.

No one can. Nor will they ever.

You’re broken. Have been since the beginning. It’s why she left. She saw it the moment she gave birth to you. She had to of.

You stand, the food on your plate only half-eaten, your appetite now gone. “I think I should head home.”

He’d desperately hoped for an agreement. For your own sake, if nothing else, but he knows you still have some time to decide. He understands that you’ll need to think about it. He just hopes you do. That you choose what’s right for yourself—even if it’s not him; his home.

You roll your window down just a bit, letting the cool fresh morning air kiss your skin as Billy heads in the direction of your house.

He speaks, breaking the comfortable silence. “You have my numbers right. The ones I wrote down?”

You turn to him, nodding. “In my bag.”

He stares out the windshield. “Just remember what I said—any time, day or night. You keep calling until I answer, and I’ll be there.”

You nod gently, wondering if he truly means it.

You know he does.

“I will.” There’s a beat of silence, then, “Thank you. For everything. If we hadn’t met…” You trail off when you feel a lump forming in your throat. “I’m just glad you were there last night. How…how did you know I was, though?”

He shrugs. “I watched you leave the parking lot with him, and the look on your face… I knew something wasn’t right. I tried to go back home, but I couldn’t fucking sleep. I just…had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. So I went driving around, trying to clear my head, I guess. And then I spotted you, heading down that path. So I followed you. I’m so glad I did. If I hadn’t…”

He shakes his head, hands tightening around the wheel. The things he wanted to do to Scott—to all of them—would put him in prison for well past his lifetime. He’d be buried on the damn grounds, and have no regrets over it. Because you would finally be safe. And they will have finally paid.

He clears his throat. “Are you sure about this? Going back there—if they show up-”

You nod, knowing you have a plan. “I will. I promise. I know what I’m doing. And I have someone to turn to. At the very least, a safe place or two to go now. I…have options.”

You’re not used to that. You’ve never had it before. Not really. None of their homes were truly safe places for you, because being within their walls came with expectations and stipulations.

But not with Billy.

He hates that he’s taking you back. He wants nothing more than to turn the damn Camaro back around, but he can’t make all your choices for you. Unlike them. At least he’d be doing what’s best for you. Whereas they only think of themselves.

He can’t wrap his head around how the fuck they can—could—do it. Get away with it. Fourteen-fucking-years-old. You’d been a kid—a little girl with trust and love in her heart. And they had seen it; twisted it to fit their narrative. Until at least one of the sick bastards had you completely wrapped around his finger—at his beck and call—while you got nothing in return. Nothing but abuse.

You deserved so much fucking better. You deserved the picture of a safe and happy home you had painted for him last night. You deserved that and so, so much more. He wanted…he wanted to give that to you. If he’d felt like that even at nineteen, it would’ve scared the shit out of him.

But now? It…gives him purpose. Looking out for you. After you. He understands the two of you haven’t spent an incredible amount of time together yet, but he can easily admit that you’re the one person in all the world that knows him better than anyone else now.

He wonders if he’s that for you, too. He’d like to think so. No one else knew about the house. Only one other even knew about your abortion, and that was because you’d had no other choice than for him to know, even if you didn’t want him to.

Then again, him finding out about the house hadn’t exactly been due to your invitation to him. He wonders if you somehow feel like he violated you in some way by just waltzing right in. And then what he’d done when you locked yourself in that room…

He glances to you, then back to the road. “I’m sorry.”

You look at him.

He continues. “For following you to the house. You…you’d found a safe place for yourself. Away from men, until another one just walked right in, bothering you—questioning you. And then what I did with the doorknob that second day-”

You shake your head. “I was bothered by it at first. Because…it felt like the only place I had that was mine. Just mine. Where I could be—do—anything I wanted without witnesses or…being touched or leered at or…” You trail off. “I know if I had asked you again after that first day—genuinely—to leave and never come back, you would’ve. I think…I think part of me had hoped for it, actually. You returning. To see that you—anyone—cared enough to bother with actually getting to know me…with my clothes on. And you did—have. I was so lonely. You don’t understand just how much. Meeting you…I think…”

Were you about to say this? After last night—all he’d done for you—yes, you were. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He nods, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He sniffs. “I feel the same.”

You smile.

And so does he.

You have Billy drop you off a little less than half-a-mile away from the house, and when you come into the front yard and take it in, you see it with different eyes now. You see the imperfections that had been there all this time, but you’d genuinely been unable to see. The shingles that were missing, the cracks in the siding, the wilted flowers and chipped paint, missing shutters. The list went on.

Had it truly been like this all along? So imperfect, so flawed—all while you had made up an entire delusion in your mind that it was anything but.

You walk up the front steps, one bending under the weight of your foot—the wood warped—and head inside, going to your room and silently shutting the door behind you.

The first thing you do is take the note Billy had given you, with his phone numbers, address, and his workplace, and hide it under a floorboard where it will never be found by anyone but you.

The fact you have to take such measures in the first place…you truly despised them all now.

You would rather be anywhere but here. Billy’s, or at the house, paddling around in the pond, admiring your nesting dolls and doing a bit more work on the place.

You hate it here.

You lie on your bed, hoping you don’t see either of them today. And if you do…you wonder if Scott will pretend like everything is the same as it always has been between the two of you. If so—he has a far different reaction from you coming. One that will set his world on fire. At the very least, fill him with rage. And he won’t be able to take it out on you this time. Nor ever again.

You can’t wait.

When you wake, it’s a little over an hour later, and you hear voices outside. When you peek out of your bedroom window, you fill with nausea at the sight of Scott and Joe standing by one another speaking to your dad, but then fill with excitement when you spot Travis pulling up in his cruiser.

Perfect.

You quickly strip out of the clothes Billy had lent you—gently folding them before stuffing them in the back of one of your dresser drawers—and throw on a sundress, tying your hair in a high ponytail and slipping on a pair of sandals before heading out of the house and down the front porch.

You don’t look at Scott once—refuse to even acknowledge his presence, even if you can feel his eyes on you; know he has a smile on his face, thinking you’re coming to him—as you keep your eyes trained directly on Travis.

When he sees you, a wide smile comes across your face as you call his name and break into a sprint. You throw yourself into his arms, jumping up, wrapping your legs around his waist and crushing your lips to his as you run your fingers through his hair.

God, you hope it fucking hurts Scott to watch you replace him so easily.

You pull away, smiling down at him warmly, your fingers softly running along the back of his neck.

He reaches up with the hand that’s not currently supporting your bottom, a look of elated awe across his features as he tucks some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek. “Hi, baby,” he says, astounded at your sudden display of affection.

“Hi,” you reply softly before peppering him in kisses, making him laugh and hold you tighter.

You don’t see Scott making to step toward the two of you—his hands balled into tight fists—before Joe’s arm shoots out across his chest, stopping him.

Travis stares up at you. “Someone woke up in a good mood today.”

You nod gently. “I missed you.”

He grins. “It’s not even been a day, baby.”

You shrug slightly. “I miss you every time we’re away from each other.”

He smiles, eyes filled with joy.

“Is she home today?”

He shakes his head. “At her friend’s all day, staying overnight for some nesting party or other.”

You give him another peck on the lips. “Can I come over and we spend the day together?”

He quickly nods. “Of course you can, baby.”

Slowly, he lowers you to the ground and you stare up at him with a smile. “Come inside and help me back a bag?”

You take his hand in yours, twining your fingers together, pulling him in that direction.

Travis shuts your bedroom door as you grab a backpack from a hook on the wall. “Not that I didn’t fuckin’ love it, but…what was that?”

You turn back to him for a moment.

“Thought you said that Scott was the only one you-”

You shake your head, allowing pain to fill your features. “I don’t…ever want him to touch me again. I can’t-”

Your chin wobbles and you glance up to him and his brows furrow as he steps toward you. “Did he do something to you? If he hurt you, I’ll fucking-”

You press yourself against his chest. “You were right about him. I should’ve listened sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t.” You sniffle. “You were the only one who deserved me; the only one who seems to even care. What he did-”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, further away from them.

The rift has begun.

“Baby, please tell me what happened.”

You bury your face in his chest. “Not here. Please.”

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

When the two of you exit the house, you hold tightly to Travis’ hand as he leads you over to his car, opening the passenger-side door for you as he places your bag in the backseat.

You refuse to look up—out the windshield—knowing the expression of loathing and contempt that waits for you. Even if it has nothing to do with losing you, but, rather, him finally realizing just how easily replaceable he is. How he was never special to begin with. Not really.

Travis comes around, seating himself in the driver’s seat before turning the car around, taking you away…from them.

You sit on the couch in Travis’ living room, a cup of tea in your hands while he sits himself on the coffee table in front of you, patiently waiting for you to explain what’s happened.

You don’t want to tell him. You only want Billy to know, because he’s the only man in your life that you can trust. That you feel something for. Something not founded upon abuse and manipulation and sex.

Something…good.

You pretend to let your hands shake, holding your teacup closer, biting your lip, tears welling in your eyes.

“They…he…”

He leans in toward you. “Take your time, baby. It’s okay.”

You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “After the fight…Scott was angry. At me—us. Me sitting in your lap. He wanted to punish me. I…begged him not to make me. Joe wanted a…a threesome. I begged him not to…”

You choke out a sob.

Travis’ face falls. He reaches forward, resting his hands on your crossed knees. “Baby, I need you to be very explicit in what you’re saying to me right now.”

“They raped me,” you whisper, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You want to throw up.

His own hands begin to shake.

“After I left…I ran into Cyrus. I…I didn’t try to stop him. He did it on the hood of his car.”

Travis stares at you. He…he’d trusted him.

“Seeing you this morning… I felt… All I could think was: safe. You were there, and I was safe. I had thought…maybe Cyrus was you last night. And then he got out.” You shake your head.

Travis fights against the tears threatening to come forth. He needs to be strong for you. You need him to lean on now. He’s the best one for you. He’d known that all along. The only one who deserved you.

They never had. And now you were his. To protect.

You quickly set down your cup, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so scared about what they’re going to do to me. They’ll punish me for this morning. Scott will. Oh God.”

He wraps you in his arms, cupping the back of your head. “He’ll never fucking touch you again. None of them will. You’re with me now.” He pulls away, cupping your cheeks in his hands, his eyes staring into your own with unbridled rage. “They’re going to learn that soon enough.”

[presleyheart]

Hello!! I was wondering if I could request a 70s Elvis X reader fic where before a concert, Elvis is really nervous(stage fright) and he doesn't usually tell reader that he is so after a bit of observing reader finally comforts him?

Take all the time you need, of course!

OMG OMG!!! Of course! I'd love to do this ^^ I feel like this is on par w/ Elvis having anxiety!! My first request!!! YAY! Sorry if it's bad lolol it's early in the AM but I'm so eager to write for you <3 So sorry if it's short, too.

"Walk A Mile In My Shoes" https://open.spotify.com/track/3TYiPU151GF7VASDPzk74Y?si=858262a5d85c419c Pairing 70s!TTWII!Elvis x gn!reader TW: mentions of !! Anxiety, light swearing, skin picking, throwing up !! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- It was 1970. Elvis was filming a new film, more-so like a documentary. Cameras were following you two around everywhere. No matter where Elvis went there was already a camera. He's absolutely been on edge. Every time you'd ask him, he'd say he was fine. You trusted him. What's the worst that could happen? Elvis has always sort've been a busy uptight man whenever it comes to concerts. This shouldn't be any different. ______ ______ You were tending to things backstage.

Everything was going perfectly. You saw Elvis come out of his dressing room; he decided the jumpsuit of tonight would be his Fringe Jumpsuit. No cape. Once he had exited, you could see by his posture something was off.

"Satnin." He had said, he went straight for you. "Hm?" You responded, looking at him. He was slightly taller than you so you had to look up to him a bit.

He immediately pulled you into a soft embrace. You could hear his heart thumping in his chest. "What's wrong?" Is all you could have mustered. He had you buried against him tightly.

He hadn't made a response. He was breathing lightly. He eventually pulled away after a few moments.

"Nothin'.. I just wanted to hold you'a moment." He responded. He was absolutely in shambles over something.

He had started picking at his face a bit and he looked almost queasy inside of his jumpsuit. He wanted to crawl out of his skin and hide from the looks of it. He was a mess. His eyes were red

"C'mon." You said. You had looked him up and down as you drug him to a spot to sit backstage.

"Y/N?-" "No." "Whad'dya think you're doin'?"

The expression on his face and posture said it all. You could tell how sensitive he was. His friends kept looking over but you shot a mean glare. They'd rather stay out of it rather than hear you "bitch up a storm" as they put it.

"Your heart is about to beat out your chest, Elvis." You answered. He looked around at the suffocating room pathetically, pawing at his seat. He twiddled his thumbs and just kept looking away shyly.

"Tell me what's going on." You demanded. Elvis failed to communicate his emotions too often.

You had been together for almost 3 years now and he was still nervous to express certain emotions. His past relationships had really caused emotional scarring on him.

"...'m anxious.. I-I..I don't understand why. I been doin' this for 'bout 16 years." He stated. He couldn't bear eye contact. He sighed softly. "It's all of these damn cameras, baby. I promise I'm okay. Jus' bein' a damn cry baby. Lem'me go"

You felt like you were ready to scream. He was very clearly anxious and tired. He looked ready to throw up, almost. He also couldn't bear to even look at you. Like he was ashamed to have feelings. It was heartbreaking.

"Look'ah me." You said, kneeling down in front of him. "What?" He says pitifully. He looks into your eyes. You could see how exhausted he was. There was no excuse for this.

You wished he could rest for only a moment, but sadly Colonel has him booked back to back. He had been acting off all week since his first concert of the month. It was like watching someone go insane, and it drove you crazier than him when he didn't even tell you.

"It's okay to be nervous.. It isn't okay not to tell me." "I-I know," He stammered; "Jus' hate bein' a burden.. y'know this"

You sighed and gently kissed him. You let him lean his head into your shoulder. He's always been a sucker for attention. He's needed someone like you after his mother had passed.

He needed love. And you were beyond certain you could give it to him.

"You're never going to be a burden. I love you so much. I understand how worried you must be, but just think.. All these people paid this money to see you. You have never let them down, and surely you won't let them down tonight." You knew exactly what to say to calm him down. You had learned quite a bit by being with him what most of the things were that he was insecure about. "Promise me?" He muttered into your shoulder "I promise." You responded, almost in a whisper. He pulled his head up fully.

"Look at'cha.. cheerin' this ol' man up." "Easy now.. you're hardly 30." "You're funny. I'm halfway through. 35." "30-shmirty. You're still a baby deep down." "Am not." "Are too."

He chuckled softly. "My baby. I love you most. Ever. Don't start tryna fight me on it, neither." He said to you. You just smiled, nodding at him. "Whatever."

He actually forgot about his anxieties. This was perfect. All you've ever wanted was for him to be happy. It was another thing to bring him happiness. Makes life a little worth living.

He eventually pulled away and nodded. He trusted you more than anything. Yet, sadly, your sweet moment was interrupted as one of his friends called over.

"E.P.! There is 5 minutes!"

You pulled away from Elvis softly. "Go on now, you'll do just fine." "I know, thank you." He says. Straight to the point. No hesitation. He had all the trust he could gather set on you.

His heart rate went to a normal speed for right now and he stared at you with adoring eyes. He kissed you on the forehead before getting up and walking towards the edges of the curtains, with his friends, coworkers, whatever. All of the fans were hollering as the lights dimmed.

"Shit, man.. I don't understand what took you so long." His friend made a snarky comment at Elvis. Even if Elvis wasn't even late. Elvis glanced over at you. He smiled a bit.

"Walk a mile in my shoes, Charlie. Then you'll get it."

The intro started and Elvis was ready to go, with a little help from his #1 fan. -----------------------------------------------------------------------