#inserting fluff where it doesn't need to be

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[catbolt]

— SYLUS HEADCANONS PT 3.

part 1, part 2 - more headcanons for the loml (fluff)

drinks his morning coffee standing out on the porch like a dad

this man will 100% leave messages for you in the condensation on the mirror after he takes a shower. whether it's a "you look beautiful", a cat drawing, or a smiley face with "have a good day", he makes sure to leave a silly little doodle to put a smile on your face in the morning

always back hugs you and rests his chin on top of your head, which is easy to do because he's so much taller (i headcanon he's 6'4/193cm and istg i am right about that)

i think sylus is an EXPERT flower purchaser. the bouquets he pulls together are genuinely works of art. no supermarket flowers from this guy considering he has a florist on retainer to provide regular fresh flowers for his house and for your weekly bouquets that always incorporate your favorite flower.

he's so self-assured. he literally has no doubt about exactly how and when he can get something done and he's right every single time. it's not cockiness or arrogance exactly, except when he's joking around, just a calm and deep-seated confidence that exudes in everything he does. he also just knows himself really, really well, and if he can't do something he admits so easily, never over-exaggerating his capabilities. "i don't know how, but i'll learn" is his attitude— especially when you're the one asking.

sylus has a modest little wood cabin in the forest outside the city for private vacations whenever he needs a break from being the leader of onychinus. he brings mephisto so he can play with the wild crows and birds for enrichment. it's his most private space, so it took a long time for him to bring you there, but now you spend weekends there together regularly.

despite having a refined palate and infinite opportunities to experience fine dining, sylus 100% has a junk food guilty pleasure and will absolutely never say no to a late night drive thru run

always says he's not interested in reality tv but consistently ends up standing behind the couch when you're watching *insert trashy reality show* intensely invested. acts like he doesn't care but then later that night he's lying in bed ranting to you like "i can't believe brad is going to the altar with veronica after he led britney on for the past four episodes"

he honestly just loves staring at you. not in a creepy way, but he does love to watch whatever you do, whether it be working, getting ready for a night out, sleeping, even just sitting around scrolling on your phone. he isn't a chatty guy and truly enjoys the moments where he gets to silently admire you in your natural state.

he always ensures you feel genuinely comfortable with whatever you two are doing. he's good at reading you and is exceptionally aware of when you're placating or people-pleasing: "tell me what you really want," "i can tell when you're lying, sweetheart," "i need you to be honest with me, baby. it doesn't make me happy when you try to tell me what you think i want to hear." whether you like it or not, he always knows when you're lying and pushes you to speak your mind.

[totallyxtaurus]

Depollute me, gentle angel pt.2

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst, some fluff (maybe, hopefully!) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide. A/N: I hope this doesn't feel too rushed! I'm still trying to figure out a good pacing of how I should break these up without them being too long or too short. Posted too quickly or not quick enough, so any advice would be very welcomed and appreciated! I hope I did Sylus justice with his responses, I just took what I would want to hear essentially. But, Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! album is so Sylus coded. I got so many ideas for other fics, so stay tuned! And again, please please please take sweet care of yourselves! 💗

Prev

The chime echoes through the apartment, and for a moment there’s nothing. No footsteps, no shuffle of movement inside. Sylus exhales, fingers softly tapping on the doorframe while he waits. He already knows. He had known the moment communication stopped, when his calls went to voicemail, when even the short, tired texts faded into silence. At first, he assumed you were just busy, needing space. But the longer he waited, the clearer it became—if it were up to you, you wouldn’t come back at all. He began doing his own investigation, looking up the traits you portrayed usually compared to these moments of time and he found his answer. So, he started paying attention. Comparing your usual habits to these stretches of absence. Watching for the patterns. Having Mephisto follow you to your therapist’s office had only confirmed what he already suspected.

As advised, he gave you time—three days, exactly. Then the calls began, gentle and steady, each one a quiet pull back to him. Each time, he waited for you to let him in, to say something. But instead, he got excuses. Busy with work. Out with friends. His personal favorite: just sleeping. It’s almost amusing, how you seem to forget he has your location. He always knows where you are. 

Sylus toys with the key in his hand, should he, or shouldn’t he? Would this cross a line? You had given this to him for an emergency, wouldn’t this be considered one? It has been a full week without hearing from you. He never lets it go this long but work held him up so he couldn’t do his usual routine. He continued to ponder the ethics of his decision until he heard it, movement. A sign of life behind the door that still won’t open up for him. That’s it, he decides and inserts the key. 

As the door swings open, a gust of stale air hits him, thick with stillness. His eyes immediately scan the space, searching for the life he just heard. But as he steps inside, it’s clear- the main rooms haven’t been touched in days, especially the kitchen. He moves toward the bedroom when the bathroom door suddenly swings open. 

Both of you freeze, staring at one another in shock. 

For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking in the hollowed eyes, the tangled hair, the way your clothes sit wrong on you—looser in some places, clinging in others— like they were meant to fit differently but now just hang, like an afterthought. His chest tightens—not in disgust, never that— but in a quiet, constrained ache. He swallows it down, he knows letting you see that pain won’t help. Instead, he inhales, careful, and controlled. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears it. 

Get out 

The words reach him, but his mind trips over them, grasping for meaning. 

For a second, all Sylus processes is the sound of your voice—hoarse, unsteady, faint, as if it took all your energy to speak at all. His mind is still trying to catch up, to piece everything together. But that’s when he really sees you. The way you stand there stiffly, eyes shining with unshed tears, flickering to anything that isn't him. As if meeting his gaze would break your resolve. The tension in your jaw, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders hunched forward, as if you’re shielding yourself from him. And then he sees it—fear. Shame. They were there all along, laced with the exhaustion and neglect. Deeply settled, lingering long before he walked in the door. He had been so focused on finding you, making sure you were safe, that he hadn’t realized—you didn’t want to be found. Not like this. 

The tightness in his chest twisting further, a quiet reminder of his mistake. Instead, he exhales in that same rehearsed way.

"Sweetie," he tries again. His voice was low, full of gentleness. Less of a greeting, more of a reassurance. He’s not going anywhere. 

You just shake your head, a silent refusal, as if willing for him to disappear. Your stance is firm, guarded. But Sylus isn't someone who retreats at the first sign of a challenge. Especially not when it's you. 

"I know kitten, I know you don't want me to see you like this. And I know you think that pushing me away will make everything easier for you, for me. But it won't, it hasn't. You don't have to do this alone." 

He sees the tears start to fall, a quiet surrender that he takes as a response. Without hesitation, he continues, his voice softer but unwavering.

Taking a small step forward, slow yet deliberate as he speaks, "Just focus on me for a second, okay? Forget about everything else, it's just us. Can you breathe with me, my love?" As he demonstrates with measured, even breaths. Never forcing, just offering, hoping it will bring your attention back to the present instead of whatever thoughts you're trapped in.

He notices the way your hunched shoulders drop, relaxing slightly, and how your clenched arms finally loosen their grip on your body. He continues to encourage you, taking slow, careful steps closer. 

"You don’t have to do anything big. I’m not here with any expectations. Why don’t we just sit down? We don’t have to talk, I’ll just sit with you, if that’s okay." His voice is soft, low, coaxing. 

Sylus notices the immediate shift in your demeanor as you register his close proximity-the shield coming back as your body goes rigid once again. You close back in on yourself and take a step back. 

You should go. I stink and I'm sure I look horrific; you mutter as your hand comes up to your face to shield it. His heart pangs, but he doesn't let his expression falter. He can't afford to let you see how much it hurts him that you're hiding from him like this. He takes another small step closer, never pushing, just allowing the space between the both of you to remain as it is. He doesn't want to make you feel trapped, but he wants to show you, prove to you, that he's not leaving.

"Kitten," his voice steady and carrying a weight of reassurance deeper than words can convey. "I'm not leaving. If I wanted to, I would. You know I don't do things I don't want to. But I'm here, for however long you want me around. I'm yours." 

You scoff, shaking your head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Why?" you ask, voice cracking. "Look at me, smell me, Sylus. Jesus Christ I'm disgusting. Why would you want to stay? Are you nuts?" 

"It's been suggested," he cuts in, his tone remaining gentle yet firm. Finally, you look up at him, and the anger in your gaze takes him by surprise but he holds his ground. 

"You just don't get it," you emphasize, your words sharp and full of frustration. "What's there to get?" he wonders but doesn't dare to speak it. "Sweetie," he says tenderly, "if this is you at your worst, then I've suffered far worse than this. You think I haven't smelled, or hit rock bottom before? When I did-or if I do sometime in the future, would you leave me? Would you push me away" 

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation. His lips quirk into a soft smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"Can I hold your hand?" he whispers, watching you closely, waiting for your response. You hesitate, then barely nod, just enough for him to catch it. He takes your hand in his, lifting it gently to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the way your face scrunches up, a grimace of discomfort, but the smile on his lips remains warm and unwavering. 

"How about this," he continues, "I'll make you something small to eat. You don't have to finish it. Just one bite. No pressure."  

You pause, your mind working through his offer. Until, after a moment, your shoulders sag in defeat, and with a sigh, you agree. Your hand still secured in his, he leads you to the kitchen, placing another kiss on the top of your head before turning to the fridge to pull out what little food there is. 

"After we eat, can you shower with me?" The words barely escape your lips, so faint that for a moment he's unsure he heard them. He looks at you, hoping his love for you radiates in his gaze.

"Of course," he replies, his voice steady and sure. "Whatever you want, my dove." He watches as the faintest of smiles flicker across your face, the kind of smile he's willing to wait for, no matter how long it takes. 

Tag list: @withering-dream @madam8 @t4naiis @sunhooniez

[alidiggory92]

His Girl - One Shot

Jackson!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Joel and reader have been together for a few years now, and live in his house in Jackson with Ellie. You forget to lock his truck after driving it, and he gets a little upset.

OR you call him Daddy, Joel melts, and Dina walks in at literally the worst time.

Notes/tags (16+): Age gap (Joel is late fifties, reader is mid twenties), established relationship, domestic fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, soft smut, teasing, banter, Joel is kinda mean, no use of y/n, daddy kink (reader literally says it once), glasses!joel, oldman!joel, Dina walks in but it's not exhibitionism, TLOU season 2 spoilers (not really just characters from that are used), Every Breath You Take by The Police (song is played, cause the reader likes it), protective Joel, no smut just sensual stuff. Hopefully I got it all!

Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Okay! Here we go! First one shot so please be nice to me, okay? No smut, just all fluff and sensual talk, since I've stated that I feel weird about writing smut (for now.. mwehehe). Reader is not described apart from having hair long enough for Joel to comb his fingers through it, and that she likes music.

Joel was busy in the house, working on some circuit board. His glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes squinted slightly. He needed a new prescription, his vision has been getting worse over the years, but he always brushed you off when you commented on it. 

You watched him through the window, coming back from a small patrol. The only kind Joel would let you go on were the ones around town or right outside the walls. You weren’t scared exactly—just nervous.

Earlier, you’d driven his truck, and forgot to lock it once you got back home. You came out of the garage just in time to see Joel unlocking the truck with his spare keys. He paused, sighed, and chewed his bottom lip—fourth time you’d forgotten.

Sure, Jackson was a pretty safe town, but you know Joel. Doesn’t trust most people. Plus, men. With their trucks. You never understood that. Maybe it was a boomer thing.

His frustration–already high from construction– was only heightened when this happened. Which only resulted in a ‘stern talking to’ –as Joel called it–. You hated getting lectured. Made you feel like a kid. Which, compared to him, you are. 

Regardless, you ended up nodding along to his words, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I’ve told you, as soon as you get out of the truck, you lock the damn door.” Joel held up his keys, dangling them, “You insert, twist, and double check. Ain’t complicated.” 

You nodded, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn't cut it this time, hun.” He scratched his beard. “Show me how you lock it.” He nodded at the truck.

You scrunched your nose, and sniffled as you walked over to his truck, grabbing the keys from his rough hands, fiddling with getting them into the lock. Swallowing thickly, you lock it, then tug on the handle to show him it’s locked. 

“Good girl.” Joel murmured, patting your hip and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

That was about two hours ago, and you still feel weird going back inside the house. You have no reason to be. Joel wasn’t scary, except for when he had to put you in your place, but that was years ago. You knew his boundaries and he knew yours. Mostly.

But apparently his therapy sessions with Gale were helping. Which you didn’t know about until a week ago. 

You sniffled, your nose running from crying the cold. Then you open the front door quietly, hoping Joel wouldn’t hear you come in, considering he was working on that circuit board, and was half-deaf anyway.

You take off your jacket, put it on the coat rack, then wipe your nose with your sleeve. 

“Hey, darlin’.” Joel says, looking up briefly.

You swallow, your gaze low. The guilt from not locking his truck again shouldn’t be this severe, since he seems to have forgotten about it already. 

“Where abouts you been for the past coupla hours?” Joel asked, poking and prodding with some tools you had no idea what the purpose of them was. 

“Out.” You mumble, busying yourself with the fridge—nothing inside but water, a whiskey flask, and a half-eaten sandwich. You grumble quietly, then shut the fridge, leaning back against the counter, gazing at Joel’s hunched back.

“Out.” Joel echoed. He’s silent for a long time. He sits up, looking over his shoulder at you, “What’s the Ellie stance for?” He asked.

You fix your stance, uncross your arms from your chest, “I’m not-” You defend yourself then Joel tsks. 

“Tch, no, you are. Acting like a damn teenager.” 

You huff, he knew you hated being called that. “I’m not.” You argue. 

Joel stayed quiet. Ever since those damn therapist appointments started he’s stopped picking up your arguments. Or he just stays quiet until you decide to engage with him. The whole ‘I’m not responsible for someone else’s emotional state’ had you surprised but also a little upset. Especially with how dependent you’d become on him. 

He didn’t mind of course, you’re his girl. But the frustration and slight guilt or the damn hormones you had, made your mood swing like no other.

After a few minutes of nothing but the tapping of the tools against the circuit board, you walk over to his chair, and sit on the floor next to it. Joel paused, sighing through his nose. “The hell are you doin’ on the floor?” he asked.

You sit on the floor in silence, fiddling with the laces of Joel’s boot, your fingers slow, almost absent-minded. The clinking of the tools fills the space, but it doesn’t cover the ache in your chest. You’re still carrying the guilt, the weight of disappointing him—even if it was just about a damn truck lock.

But maybe guilt isn’t the only thing pressing on you. 

You shift closer, resting your cheek on his thigh, under the table. You feel him pause. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets out a soft sigh through his nose. Then—

“Tch,” Joel tsks, his tone low. “No, darlin’. Not right now.”

Your fingers trail up, finding the buckle of his belt, toying with it lazily. His breath catches. You smirk a little to yourself.

“Honey, I said no.” His voice is firmer this time, but his hand never moves to stop you. That familiar tension in his body tells you everything.

You sit back on your heels and chuckle softly, gaze dropping to the front of his jeans. Your hand still fiddles with his belt, not unbuckling it, but more tapping against the buckle. You nudge your nose against his inner thigh, shutting your eyes at the feeling of the denim against your skin. 

Joel groans under his breath, setting his tools down with a small clink. He looks down at you, kneeling, his glasses sliding off his nose a bit, but he catches them with his index finger, pushing them back up.

“I hate when you’re mad at me,” you whispered, voice small.

“I ain’t mad.” he replied gruffly, but the way his hand makes its way to thread through your hair says otherwise. “Just worry about ‘cha.”

“I’m sorry.” you muttered. 

Joel furrowed his brows, “Sorry don’t mean crawlin’ under tables and actin’ like a brat.”

You huff, “You like when I act like a brat.” You joke, hoping the crease between his brows would relax.

Joel huffs a breath that would’ve been a laugh if he weren’t so focused on you knelt before him, “Ain’t the point.” He runs his hand through your hair, being careful not to snag any fingers on potential knots. 

He reaches down with a low grunt, his hands going under your arms to help you up off the floor, “Don't want your knees bruisin’.”

You let him lift you, despite feeling bad for the way he grunts as you settle into his lap. Joel noticed, of course, and just tutted at you, leaning back into his chair, his hands settling on your hips. You lean forward, chest to his, then nuzzle your face into his neck. He smelled like work, he always did, even before you got to Jackson. The musky smell of pine and leather, or as you called it, ‘the old man smell’ just to get a rise out of Joel.

Joel noticed your silence, which meant you were fighting with your thoughts on what to say, “You’re mine to look after.” He started, then cleared his throat, the vibration going through his chest to yours. 

“You don’t have to worry so much.” You muffled against his neck, shutting your eyes tightly.

“That’s like tellin’ the sun not to rise.” He gently grabs your face with one hand, then kisses your forehead. “Just… lock the damn truck next time,” He muttered, though there was no malice to his tone. 

“Yes, sir.” you mumble, your cheeks squished between his fingers.

Joel chuckles, releasing your face, then pressing another kiss to your forehead. His hands settle back onto your hips, rubbing up and down your sides slowly, feeling the curve of your waist. 

You study his face, seeing the more prominent crows feet up close, and the crease between his brows from concentrating too hard. Your thumb comes up to smooth the crease and Joel huffs. 

“That’s permanent, I know. My fault,” Joel started, already knowing you were about to say he worries too much. Again.

You only hum, leaning closer, your nose brushing against his, and breath hitting his lips. His hand slides up to your back, pressing down so you’d arch into him. 

“C’mere.” He grunts lowly, and you do. Your lips connect with his, gentle and slow.

Your hands come up to the collar of his jacket, tugging him closer, though there was already no air between you two. He groans against your lips, a hand sliding into your hair, the other still on your back. 

He gently tugs at the hair at the base of your neck, pulling back, just enough to take a breath, “Damn things are foggin’ up.” He muttered. 

You open your eyes, cheeks flushed, as Joel pulls back with a huff of annoyance. He takes his glasses off with one hand, setting them on the table behind you without looking. You whine quietly; partially from not thinking about his glasses getting in the way, but also because you liked when he kept his glasses on.

“Should’ve left them on,” You whisper, your fingers combing through the gray curls at the nape of his neck, “I like them.”

Joel chuckles lowly, rough and breathy. “Can’t see shit when they steam up like that.”

You peck the corner of his mouth, then trail down to his jaw, his beard scratching at your lips, “Still think you look good, Daddy.”

You reach back to grab his glasses, using your shirt to clean them.

His hand stills against your waist.

“Haven’t heard that in a while.” Joel says gruffly. Which only makes you giggle quietly.

“Nuh uh,” You argue, putting his glasses back on his face.

“Jesus,” he breathes before kissing you again – deeper this time.

Joel pulls back after a moment, just enough to speak, his voice low and breathing a bit labored. “Go put somethin’ on. You like that one with the creepy stalker singin’ about love, right?”

You blink, lips red and swollen, “Every Breath You take? That is not creepy, it’s sweet.” 

Joel scoffs, giving your hip a pat. “Baby, the man’s talkin’ about watchin’ her every move. That’s not love, that’s a restrainin’ order.”

You slip off of his lap and sigh. “Whatever. You’d stalk me if I left.”

Joel snorts, picking his tools back up, “I’d just follow the sound of you talkin’ shit under your breath.”

You glare at him over your shoulder as you walk into the living room, flipping through the stack of vinyls he had gotten you over the years. You hum happily as the needle drops onto the spinning record, the guitar riff filling the house as you turn it up.

“Goddammit, girl.” Joel put his tools back down, realizing you turned it up way too loud for his liking despite his half deaf ass.

You flop onto the couch, laying on your stomach, using your forearms as a pillow. You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as you’re met with his thighs in your face, standing by the couch. 

“You know it’s creepy, right?” He murmurs, moving your hair out of your face. 

“And you know you’re old, right?” You shoot back, which only earns you a playful swat on your ass. You squeal and giggle, but huff when Joel turns the turntable volume down.

“I still got you.” Joel said, walking over to the couch, moving your legs so he can sit down. 

“Barely. All I get is beard trimmings in the sink and grunts now.” You huff, even if you’re only teasing him.

“Grunts, huh?”

“Mhm. And that one look you get when you’re about to say something mean but decide to kiss me instead.” 

Joel rubs your thigh, making you turn to lay on your back, and coax your head into his lap, “Such a terrible way of livin’.” He teased.

You only hum, turning your head in his lap, to be faced with his stomach, starting to play with the buttons of his flannel. He kept talking.

“-and Maria wants so many things done before Spring, I also reckon Tommy’s been lyin’ to me lately,” Joel rambled. Shit, was he talking? Too late, you’re focused on something else right now.

You manage to unbutton about three of the buttons at the bottom of his flannel, lifting it up to kiss his stomach, making Joel stop his talking and look down at you, keeping his glasses on his nose with his index finger. 

“Y’keep doing that,” He warns, “and I’m gonna take it as an invitation.”

You sit up a bit, “What if it is?” 

Joel takes his glasses off, “You wanna start somethin’ right now, sweetheart? While that creepy-ass record’s still playin’?”

You chuckle, “I don’t hear you getting up to change it.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, more hungry this time. Your hands are in his hair again before you realize it, and he groans. His hands trail under your shirt, warm and slow as he traces your spine. You lift your arms, and Joel rolls your shirt up, tossing it to the floor.

He lays you back on the couch with a short grunt, settling between your thighs, his flannel almost completely open. Oh, how did that happen? The sight made you giggle

“Goddamn-”

Knock knock.

The front door swings open. 

“Hey, Joel, you – OH MY GOD.”

Joel freezes. You blink, lifting yourself up to look over his shoulder, hair a mess, and shirt gone, but it was enough to give the full picture.

Dina stands in the doorway, her hand over her mouth.

Joel sighs like he just aged another five years, “Dina, for the love of-”

“Nope! No, no, nope,” she says, already backing out, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t see anything, swear to God.”

The door shuts with a clatter.

For a second, you both just stare at the now-shut door. Your heart’s still racing, not just from being caught half-naked, but from the warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours. He hasn’t moved. Neither have you. And maybe that’s the funniest part; how normal it feels to be interrupted like this.

Joel rests his forehead between your breasts, and groans into the skin, “She’s never gonna let me live that down.”

You chuckle, your hand still tangled in his hair, “She’s gonna tell Ellie, too.”

Joel groans louder, his cheeks dusted pink as he rests his chin on your sternum, “Goddammit.”

[katstarry]

no one noticed

eddie munson x reader

part i

masterlist ☆

part ii | part iii

summary: being paired up for a project with eddie leads to a beautiful friendship, it's inevitable that you gain a crush.

warnings: PINING, slow burn, fluff, slight self-deprecating thoughts?, reader is an academic achiever/seeks academic validation kinda (self insert lmaoo), reader has long hair, the upside down doesn't exist here, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: this is longer than i expected it to be, maybe i'll even make a small series of this :3 lmk if you guys would be interested!

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

the morning started out as it always does.

your alarm wakes you up, you get ready for school, say goodbye to your mom, and maybe grab a quick snack before heading out and driving to school. the usual routine.

it's your senior year, it's supposed to be the best year of high school. though, so far it has been very disappointing. you blame yourself for not being as extroverted as you hoped to be during your freshman year, now you don't have as many friends as middle school you had envisioned.

but you do have robin.

she's been your closest friend throughout the years, having met her in freshman year in the library, where you spent your lunchtime at, and you're okay with just having one close friend. you've come to peace with that. robin has been the bestest friend you've ever had, she's became a confidant, and you never have to put up a front with her. it's easy to talk to her, she has that sort of power somehow. what usually takes you a few weeks to become comfortable with someone new, it had only been a mere few days before being totally comfortable with robin.

as you walk into the school, you walk to your locker, seeing her right beside it.

"hey robin," you smile at her as she moves out the way for you, "good morning."

she returns your smile with her shoulder to the locker beside your own, one bookbag strap hanging from the other, "goood morning!"

you grab the materials you need for the first class of the day, "what's got you so happy this early?" you yawn.

robin shrugs, "can't a woman just be happy to see her best friend?"

rolling your eyes playfully, "of course you can!" you smirk at her, closing the locker and adjusting your bag on your shoulder, "...but maybe it has to do with a certain bandmate of yours?" you whisper.

she gasps, whispering back, "what! no. definitely not, definitely did not talk to her just a few minutes ago."

you laugh as the bell rings, signaling the start of the day.

"guess i'll see you at lunch?"

she nods, "can we go to the cafeteria today instead of the library? forgot my lunch today, woke up late."

you both begin to walk to the direction of your classes, "yeah that's fine, see you there!" giving her a side hug, you both go your separate ways.

it's now your class before lunch, history.

the day has felt longer than usual. you can't wait for it to be over and have your after school nap.

dropping your bag beside your desk, you sit and take out your notebook for the class.

the other students come walking in, he sits in his usual spot behind you.

you sit up straighter, god i'm so embarrassing.

usually, you hate having to have people sit behind you. it always feels like their watching your every move. of course, it's not true, but you can't help but think it. it's why you always sit in the back. but unfortunately, those seats were taken when you had walked in the first day of this class.

it's even worse when you think the person behind you is cute.

you move your hair to your shoulders, hoping it covers the sight to your notebook. you're just shading in the margins.

you look up when the teacher gets up from his desk, class is about to start.

"alright class, let's get started."

he walks over to the door and shuts it, and begins taking attendance.

"well, for today it'll be fairly easy. you won't hear me talk much today," the class let's out sighs of relief, the jocks who get along with him laugh playfully, "alright, alright. you won't be doing that after what i tell you."

oh no. you already know what he's about to say.

"we'll be doing a project! you'll be grouped up in pairs." immediately people begin to look at one another, already knowing who they want to be paired with, you look around, you don't really talk to anyone in that class. though, nancy wheeler has been kind to you, hopefully she'd want to pair up with you. but probably not, since barb and jonathan is in this class too. you can still hope though. any of them!

"before you get excited, i'll be the one assigning groups. it'll be at random."

now, the class really does let out sounds of disappointment and dissatisfaction.

"i told you, you wouldn't like it!" he laughs and clears his throat and goes back to his desk, grabbing a piece of paper and going back to leaning on his podium.

"alright, let's see here." he goes on to list the pairings, you anxiously wait for your name to be called.

please. please, please, pair me with nancy. or barb. or jonathan.

"nancy wheeler and-" please! "barbara holland."

well, okay. that's fine, who else is left? you'd been so caught up in waiting for your name that you hadn't kept up with who was called and who hasn't. jonathan! he hasn’t been called yet. please, please, please-

"y/n l/n and-" oh shit, that's you. "eddie munson."

oh shit, he's behind you.

the girl in front of you turns around and whispers to you, "good luck."

should you turn around? if you don't what if he thinks you're upset about being paired with him? you should probably turn around, the teacher keeps listing names, and you look back briefly.

he's already looking at you and you awkwardly make eye contact; you give a small smile and turn back around. okay that wasn't so bad right? dang it. you've tried your hardest to not talk to him. but if you think someone's cute you should want to talk to them, right? wrong. you never know what to say when you like someone, how can you even like someone without talking to them? you don't know, but it happened anyway. and now you're basically being forced to talk to him.

robin's going to love this.

"okay, now that you know who your partners are, i'll talk about what this project will be about. you and your partners will come up with a topic, it'll have to be a significant part of history. you'll make a presentation where both will have to speak in front of the class. you can bring in photos, poster boards, anything to aid the presentations. it's not necessary, but it could earn you extra points!"

he looks over to the clock on the wall, "... i'll give you until the end of class, which is about," he looks down to his wristwatch to double check, "40 minutes from now, to come up with a topic, come to my desk to let me know you've come up with something before leaving class, please."

clapping his hands together, he sighs, "alright! pair up!"

everyone begins to move to be with their partners, darn it. all you have to do is turn around. it's not that big a deal. as nervous as you are to talk to eddie, your grade matters more than a silly crush.

you turn around in your seat, grabbing your notebook and putting it in your lap. finally looking up you see him tapping his pencil on his desk, also looking up. the awkward eye contact again, awkward to you at least.

okay. maybe you can fail one project.

who are you kidding, your parents would look at you crazy if you came home with a failing grade.

"hey." you finally say, giving him another shy smile. god damn it why are you so awkward.

he nods, "hey." he leans onto his elbows, looking away, "it's alright if you wanna switch partners y'know? or if you wanna work alone, or something."

you look at him in surprise, "no! it's fine. i don't mind working with you, sorry if i gave that impression." furrowing your eyebrows, dang it maybe your nervousness made him think that.

he looks back to you, "really? i wouldn't want to bring your grade down, straight A student." he smiles. okay, now he's just messing with you.

you can't help the heat that rushes to your cheeks, so he must know about you then? how does he know that?

"funny that you think i would let that happen." you laugh.

he leans back onto his chair, arms now crossed on the table. "alright then, are you sure you wanna be my partner, then?" he looks at you, eyebrows raised.

"yes, i'm sure." you now lean on his desk, arms also crossed.

"do you have any ideas for our topic?" you grab the notebook from your lap, grab a pencil, and put it in between you both on the desk.

he sits up now, leaning on the desk, mirroring your actions.

oh no, he's close now, breathe.

he scratches the back of his neck, "uh... not really."

"alright, that's fine. uhm," you look at the clock, "we have about 35? 30? minutes, so we have time. we should just pick a few things and then we can pick the one we like best, yeah?" you write in your notebook, ideas, and underline it. you look back up and find eddie looking down at your notebook before looking back up as well.

"yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

you tap your pencil and bite your lip, thinking.

"hmm... we could do like the great depression or something." you murmur and write it down.

as you have your head down to write it, you miss eddie's panicked gaze. he's never really had much care for these types of things since usually whoever he's partnered with doesn't even bother talking to him and do it all themselves, doesn't even give him the chance to contribute. he quickly tries to think so that he can add something too.

"uh, the- what about the american revolution? or something? i dunno."

you look back up, "yeah! you wanna write that?"

you offer the pencil to him, "sure." he takes it, turning the notebook towards him, feeling a bit insecure about his handwriting compared to yours that's above his own. it isn't the neatest, and he never really cared about it, but he can't help it when you look at him like that.

the rest of the time goes by like that, going back and forth with ideas, your notebook page filled with both your handwriting.

"okay, we have like 10 minutes left. do you have a favorite?"

you tilt your head as you wait for an answer.

"uh," he bites his lip as he looks down at the list, "the invention of the printing press?" to be honest he just picked a random one.

"cool! i'm alright with that." you smile as you put a small star beside the idea.

"hmm... would you want to do a poster board? or anything?"

no, honestly he would not. but he looks at you and can tell that you really would, anything that would earn extra points, right? he smiles.

"i wouldn't mind it. i could buy the stuff for it." he doesn't have the money for it, but he'll just have to sell more of his stuff for it.

"really? no that's okay, i'm the one that wanted to do it."

"nooo," he gives you a pointed look, playfully scolding you, "i'll buy it. what do we need for that?" he plays with the end of his hair twisting it in front of his face. a nervous habit of his, you make him nervous. not that you realize.

"well, the board, some markers, we could use mine since i already have some, and some glue. we could print out the stuff we need at the library, once we find out whatever we need to print."

"alrighty then. we made a lot of progress today then, huh? i'm the best partner you could have! we're really an unstoppable duo, right here." he puts his hand up for a high-five.

you give him the high-five, ignoring the tingly feeling on your hand, and it wasn't from the impact.

"oh yeah, totally." you laugh.

"i don't like that tone." he squints at you.

"what do you mean? i'm serious! we are the best duo." you smile.

"alright, i believe you." he smiles and stretches.

the bell rings, and it feels like suddenly the day went by too fast now.

you stand and grab your things, writing your names on an index card and the topic for the project.

eddie stands as well, about to say something but you beat him to it.

"let's go turn in our topic."

he usually is out the door when they do this, okay.

you both walk to the teachers desk, you smile and give him the index card.

he takes it and looks up with a smile, "great topic!" he looks over at eddie, "hopefully she rubs off on you!"

you frown and look over at eddie, who gives him a sarcastic smile and nod.

you both walk out the classroom, "do you have lunch after this?" he asks.

you stop in your tracks, about to walk to the cafeteria to meet robin.

"yeah i do, do you?"

"yup." he smiles and walks beside you, making your way to the cafeteria.

"y'know i was always scared to talk to you." he gives you a side eye, before looking straight again.

"what? of me?" you look over at him incredulously.

"oh, totally. thought you were scary, y'know being a smarty pants and all."

ah, so he's messing with you. again.

"ha ha," you roll your eyes, though you're smiling, "very funny."

"you know those candies? what're they called? smarties? yeah, that's you."

"what? it's a candy!" you laugh.

"so? that's still you."

"okay, okay. i'm not that smart alright?" you shake your head, still smiling. you can't stop smiling.

he looks at you like you're crazy. "you're kidding, right? don't you have like, the highest grade in the class?"

you shrug, feeling shy. "could be better, though."

the cafeteria is in view now, and you desperately need to change the subject. "well, guess this is where we go our separate ways." you sigh dramatically.

"i guess so." he breaks eye contact and looks around, "you could uh, sit at our table. if you want."

"oh! uh... i wouldn't want to bother-" "you wouldn't be."

you smile at him and he swears he can hear his heat beating out his chest right now.

"thank you. but i was gonna meet with my friend robin. i'll see you tomorrow in class, though."

"right, yeah, that's fine. see you tomorrow." he opens the door to the cafeteria and dramatically makes way for you to pass through.

you wave him goodbye as he makes way to his groups table, you see robin at your usual spot.

oh you aren't going to hear the end of this.

[ssahotchnerr]

jealous!Aaron would be super interesting in a situation where the reader has a meeting with an agent that has vibes similar to him and Kate Joyner (Whoever the reader meets kinda resembles and ex or maybe even Aaron himself and they're oddly friendly 🤭)

the one

OMG cw; bau!reader, jealous!aaron, aaron's petty (and a bit insecure), established relationship (and a healthy one at that <333), vague allusions to sex, fluff wc; 1.8k

"your team will be stationed here." the chief of police led you, aaron and jj into one of the conference rooms, complete with a large table, vast seating and numerous bulletin boards. "our head detective will be in to assist you shortly."

"thank you." once he had exited, aaron exhaled a breath - more so a let's get this show on the road, "alright, let's get settled."

jj began unpacking the evidence from the boxes collected so far, as aaron and yourself hung up photos; crime scene as well as images of the victims so far.

as promised, the door soon opened, allowing the noise of the precinct to drift in. it ended as abruptly as it had started, the door clicking shut.

"mornin', i'm detective parker." you heard from behind you, the name and voice strangely familiar, causing you to slow. "it's real nice of y'all to come all this way to help us out."

jj introduced herself, and then aaron, but no introduction was needed on your end; you turned and your eyes connected with the voice, both of you recognizing each other instantly.

"no way!" you grinned, moving forward and bypassing a handshake for a hug. he reciprocated your energy, exclaiming your name as he embraced you just as tightly.

aaron immediately stiffened, and jj was equally taken aback, studying the man. the first noticeable thing, the resemblance. the dark hair, dark eyes, tall frame...

while aaron began to seethe, and jj took the initiative to vocalize what they both were wondering - she had also noted the vein beginning to bulge in his neck. "the two of you know each other?"

"we worked together back in the tuscon field office." you explained, turning back to parker with a smile. "that was what, three, four years ago?"

"has it been? doesn't feel like it." he released a hearty laugh. "look at you, you haven't changed a bit. you look good, and i mean real good."

a swarm of jealous heat filled aaron's body, and only grew as you and parker began chattering away like lifelong best friends.

eager to draw it to a close, he cleared his throat, loudly. it regained both your attention, and cut your small reunion short.

"huh, a bau profiler," parker said as he sobered down, his smile lingering as he gazed at you. "who would've thought."

jj inserted herself into the conversation again, intrigued yet perplexed. "so the two of you were close, then."

aaron refrained - with a large amount of effort - from physically rolling his eyes. clearly. he opened a file, solely to maintain his composure.

"oh, absolutely," parker answered for the both of you, while also throwing an arm around your shoulder. "there was one time we-"

"fascinating." aaron deadpanned as he interrupted, closing the file in hand, rather aggressively as it produced a quaint slap. his eyes rose and studied the agent's arm placement for a few, obvious seconds, his lips drawing into a tight line before continuing. "need i remind you we currently have three victims and a killer who is unraveling as we speak. it's in our best interest to work diligently and remain focused."

parker nodded, his cheeks producing a faint blush at the injunction.

"the recent victim's family still requires an interview. you can start there."

"the two of us can go," parker said, gesturing to yourself, "it's quite a drive away, could give us the opportunity to catch up."

"that won't be necessary, jj can accompany you." aaron stated firmly, not even looking at him, nose buried in his file again.

an amused yet disdained expression formed on jj's face, nodding slowly in confirmation. "that i can."

parker opened his mouth, probably to protest, but aaron had already turned his back. he surrendered and headed out, jj following.

"aaron." you transferred your weight onto your hand as you leaned on the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow.

"what?" he looked at you. despite his query, his eyes were a telltale - he knew what he was doing.

you arched your eyebrow more, giving him a look.

he sighed, shutting the file. "i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"he wasn't-"

aaron gave you a pointed look this time, prompting your words to trail off. he tore his eyes away from you again, allowing his next inquiry to exit his mouth more easily, "so, were the two of you...?"

"oh, no." you began to shake your head, but halfway, you hesitated. "well... almost."

his lips fell into an uneasy line, a pained expression painted on his face as his gaze shot back to yours. "almost?"

"we went on a few dates, kissed and..." you released a breath, choosing to keep the summary short, but the brooding envy in aaron's eyes deepened. "but nothing ever came from it. we were better off as friends."

after a moment though, you added, on the quieter side, "and besides, i transferred before anything really solidified."

the lines in aaron's face only grew, biting down briefly on his bottom lip.

"but it's in the past." you quickly reassured, bringing your hands to his cheeks for a moment to relieve the tension. "i won't deny that we were close, but you know how partnerships work. i depended on him, him on me, and the majority of our time was spent together. it caused a lot of emotions, all of which, are gone. i haven't even spoken to him since, seriously."

aaron wanted to counter, does parker know that? but from the earnest expression on your face, and loving look in your eyes, he withheld from doing so.

the bitterness on his face still didn't falter, but "okay. that's fine."

you still weren't convinced. "are you sure?"

"yeah. you're allowed to have a history, but that doesn't mean i need to be optimistic about working with him." he said as he exhaled a breath. he meant it, fully secure and confident in your relationship. he simply detested the idea of another yearning for you, especially one you had a past with, and one who looked quite like him - a potential competitive force.

you were his.

"of course," you nodded, with full understanding. "if the roles were reversed, i know i'd feel the same."

"and as long as he doesn't try anything..."

you laughed, your fingers playing with and then smoothing out the lapels of his suit jacket - positioning them in perfect place just as they belonged. "he won't. trust me, he's not like that."

aaron nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. if it weren't for the current setting, he would've brought his lips to yours.

"i have you." you offered him a loving, genuine smile, the affirmation to his just-previous thought calming his heart rate further. "i have everything i could ever want."

-

despite aaron being a bit (very) high-strung, and keeping a close eye on parker, he kept his word - he remained civil. naturally, he still was passive aggressive, short, and didn't dare smile while interacting with him.

the team noticed the 'chemistry' too. you knew they were whispering about it; they had gazed questionably between the two of you upon their arrival at the precinct, and through the substance of the case - the naturalness, the easy meshing, bouncing ideas off each other. but you had worked with parker for years - you knew how he worked, and likewise. it was like riding a bike, old habits resurfacing.

they also noticed the familiar characteristics to aaron (morgan of course teased you about it, you simply waved him off). and even penelope all the way back home asked about it, "so this guy, what's the story there?"

but despite the at-times, annoying attention - the case proceeded and resolved easily. within a few days, it was time to return home.

as the team settled other matters - exit reports, paperwork, etc. - you found yourself with parker, packing up and clearing out the conference room.

the two of you were alone for the first time all week, and you could sense it in the silence - a pending question. it was a matter of time before it was brought to focus.

"what do you think would've happened, if we would've given it a shot?"

you froze, facing him. "what?"

"you and i." his eyes searched yours, creating a sense of deja-vu. it was familiar, having spent so much time with him and once it had sent shivers throughout your body. but as strong as they seemingly once were - it wasn't like with aaron. it didn't leave you feeling lightheaded and giddy and as if you could simply burst at the seams.

when you remained silent, he continued.

"we were good together." he stated, insistently. "you can't deny it. good partners, a great team."

"yeah... we were," you agreed, fiddling with some papers as you thought. "but in the field. romantically, no. we couldn't see eye to eye on anything non-work related, don't you remember how much we bickered?"

"that was good for one thing, at least."

you ignored that, firm and conclusive in your answer. "we wouldn't have lasted."

"and he's in the picture now." he chuckled as he crossed his arms, a tinge of irritation present.

"yeah, he is." you hardened your voice - he knew it as your tell to quit it. "like i told you the night before i left. i couldn't stay. there was more for me out there. and after joining the bau, i now know it was in more ways than one. i love the work, although it's tremendously difficult and gruesome at times. i love the family it's given me. and most importantly, i love aaron."

parker nodded silently, rather disappointedly, but understanding nonetheless.

"i love him. he's the one, i'm positively certain he is."

he sighed as shoulders dropped, his words melancholy but supportive. "well, he's good for you. if anything about him being attached to your hip, or giving me the subtle death glare constantly the past few days, has something to say for it."

you laughed gently. "profiling the profilers?"

"oh c'mon, the way he looks at you? anyone can tell."

-

on the jet, you weaved down the aisle, past the team finding their seats, getting comfortable for the ride home. when you reached aaron, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

aaron's lips tipped upwards in a smile, his arms mirroring yours. "what's this for?"

you only tightened your grip, mumbling into his chest. he could hear your smile in your voice. "just 'cause you're mine."

[mia-can-yap-too]

synopsis :- You can only see colors after meeting your soulmate. You saw it. He did, too. He just walked away like an emotionally repressed cryptid.

warnings :- this is more crack than fluff, reader almost breaks in the boys locker room, canned coffee, parking lot confessions

a/n:- okay fine i inserted myself as the best friend SUE ME

@uzmacchiato for dividers

png by me dont steal pls

You were not asking for a soulmate.

You were asking for iced coffee and peace and a day where it didn't feel like the world was personally out to get you.

Your umbrella broke in the rain, you stepped in some gum, and your coworker tried to mansplain email folders to you again. You were already at 'burn the world down' levels of tired.

You came into the convenience store, hoping that maybe some cheap canned coffee would help. And then you touched hands with some guy that was reaching for the same thing and—

— the world exploded.

Color.

So much of it.

Your eyes blew wide. His did, too. You locked gazes.

The world blazed into reality.

Bright red fire hydrants, silver glossy soda cans, electric pink gum on the bottom of your shoe. And the stormy teal in his eyes that felt like a punch to the throat.

You opened your mouth to say something soulmate-worthy like "hi" or "Are you actually my fine shyt?" or perhaps the might, "Woah, shawty, can I get that number?"

He blinked.

And then, he walked away.

The cashier tapped the counter. "Ma'am. He left. Are you gonna pay, or do you need five more business days?"

You stared, stunned, at the exit.

Then, at your coffee.

Then, your hands.

"What the fuck just happened...?" you asked no one.

"Girl, I felt that," the cashier whispered. "Why'd your soulmate ghost you like a Netflix show that never got a season two?"

You left the store wet, confused, betrayed, and in full color. It was worse than heartbreak. It was rejection in high-definition lighting.

You spiraled. Just a little.

You even told your friends about him.

"He just left?!"

"He looked you in the eyes and then fled the scene?!"

"Was he hot?"

"Okay, but like, worth chasing down hot?"

"Maybe he's colorblind?"

"Maybe he's emotionally blind.."

You spend the next week checking every street, every Instagram story tagged 'Shibuya' like an obsessed Victorian widow. Nothing.

He just vanished.

You moved on. Or well, tried to.

The world stayed in color. Unfortunately, teal was everywhere. On street signs, on product packaging, on the Clavin Klein underwear ad featuring this super hot model named Leon Kennedy. Ugh, he wouldn't leave you alone (in memory).

You nicknamed him in your head. The Cryptid Bastard. My Ex-Husband. Pinkie Pie, too, ironically.

You tried Googling him (nothing).

You tried asking the cashier for CCTV footage (denied).

You even started writing passive-aggressive soulmate poetry like :

roses are red,

violets are blue,

I saw color,

and so did you,

so why'd you run,

you stupid shrew.

It didn't help.

Rin's POV

Okay. So.

He accidentally met his soulmate.

Saw color.

Felt a weird amount of chest pain.

And left.

Like a normal person.

It's fine. It's fine.

You probably didn't even notice. Maybe you thought it was a weird lighting trick. Maybe you don't know what he looks like. Maybe you've forgotten all about him.

He tried to focus on football.

Football is good. Football is safe. Football doesn't judge you when you meet your literal other half and then run like she's a debt collector.

He tried to bury it all in a mental soulmate box titled 'DO NOT TOUCH EVER'.

It doesn't even pretend to work. He opens the box everyday.

Because now everything is in color.

And it's the worst.

Green grass? Annoying.

Sunsets? Emotional terrorism.

The concerning brown of the canned coffee he keeps buying? It gives him heartburn now.

He doesn't even know your name.

All he knows is that he saw you once, made solid eye contact, and chose violence via disappearance. Now he's living in 4K Ultra HD regret like a clown in high-definition.

If fate ever brings you back, he's going to say something normal this time. Something not insane.

Like "Hi" or "Sorry I ghosted you, I have the emotional depth of a teaspoon" or "Please don't press charges".

God, he's doomed.

Also, has Isagi's hair always been that horrid blue?

Your POV

Months later, your best friend, Mia, forced you to come to a Blue Lock match with her. Something about needing to bag a guy named Isagi or something.

You weren't particularly fond of football. Too many rules. Too many men running around like angry toddlers with a ball fixation. Personally, you'd share the ball, but maybe that's just your opinion.

Then, he walked onto the field.

Number 10.

Black hair.

Stormy-teal eyes.

Rin Itoshi.

Your brain short-circuited.

It must've been obvious because Mia asks you if you're okay.

You stood up. You point at him. "THAT'S HIM! That's Ex-Husband! That's Pinkie Pie! That's–OH MY GOD, MY SOULMATE IS AN ATHLETE?!"

Rin didn't look at the crowd once. Of course, he didn't.

He played like his life depended on it. Sharp, controlled, aggressive. He scored two goals, and he didn't even celebrate. He looked as emotionally open as a bank vault.

You were left staring. Woah, that's your man?

After the match, you were unwell.

"I have to confront him."

"Girl, he's in the locker room."

"I'm breaking in."

"PLEASE, don't get arrested over a man who literally ghosted your existence," Mia begged.

You ignored her. While you didn't break into the locker room, per say, you waited by the players parking lot like a perfectly normal, not-at-all deranged person.

He came out looking well....HOT. Alone. Hood up. Earbuds in.

You stepped in front of him.

He blinked. "You..."

You gawked. "THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?!"

"I figured you would be mad."

"Mad? You triggered a soulmate moment and then VANISHED. I went full K-drama for three months!"

He didn't move. Just stared. "You still remember that."

"Oh, I remember it, Rin. I remember your stupidly symmetrical face, what's your secret? Gua Shua? AND, I remember the canned coffee too! AND, the color coming into my life on full blast before you ran away as if I was the plague!"

He scratched the back of his neck. "...I panicked."

"You... you PANICKED?!"

He nodded. "Didn't expect it. Didn't know what to say. Didn't want to ruin it by being...me. But I suppose I did anyways..."

You blinked.

"Oh my God, you're an emotionally repressed idiot."

"...Yes."

"I can't believe I fell for a hot wall of internalized issues."

"I play football for a living," he said flatly. "We all are."

You huffed at him. "You owe me coffee. A good one. And three months of therapy."

"...Okay."

You paused. "That's it? Okay?"

He shrugged. "I saw color. So did you. I wanted to run. But you're here now. You tracked me down. You yelled. You're terrifying. You...win."

You narrowed your eyes. "Is this you asking me out?"

"I'm asking you not to leave. Or yell anymore. I'll buy us coffee. We can talk."

A pause.

"Can we not walk in the rain, though?" he asked. "I associate you with weather-based trauma now."

You blinked. And then, you laugh.

Hard and loud. Not lady-like. The kind that took you both bt surpirse.

"...Fine. But you're paying."

"I already said that."

"And if you ghost me again, I will commit crimes."

He smirked. "Noted."

Ah Shit! Here We Go Again — Masterlist

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Rookie (ABC Series) - pg. 2

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

This list contains all fics and sequels after 12/25/2024.

Page 1 (fics and sequels posted before 12/25/2024)

Page 3 (series and blurbs)

Words to Die By

13k+ words | angst (to light fluff) | BAU!reader | Seven years after failing to become an LAPD officer, you return to Los Angeles as a literary analyst with the FBI's behavioral analysis unit to catch a serial killer.

Strikes to Die By 10.6k+ words | angst to fluff | Months after you kissed Tim, you have to save him and yourself without letting your emotions get in the way. His past follows him to the FBI, and you must decide if you want to be part of his past or his future.

Shoulder to Cry On

1.5k+ words | angst to fluff | When your daughter Mia is taken hostage, Tim Bradford holds you together and offers a strong shoulder to cry on.

Between the Holidays

1.0k+ words | fluff | Tim drops by the day after Christmas, and your family leads you to make an unplanned confession.

Wrong Start

1.1k+ words | brief angst to fluff | You're arrested for a crime you didn't commit. After you point Officers Bradford and Chen in the right direction, Tim decides you got off on the wrong start and wants to make it up to you.

Find Your Own Happiness

2.5k+ words | angst | After a falling out with your family, you move to LA and meet Tim Bradford. When he breaks your heart to give his to someone else, you're left completely alone.

Stood Too Close to a Devil (recommend 16+ for violence/trafficking)

7.3k+ words | angst, minor fluff | UC!reader | While investigating a human trafficking ring, you get in too deep. You're abducted and meet a group of women you can't leave behind. After months of fighting, you find your way home to the one safety they couldn't take from you.

Once In a Lifetime (The Rookie x SWAT documentary-style fic)

4.2k+ words | reader insert | Mid-Wilshire opens a case that requires seven police departments, numerous SWAT teams, and an unusual witness. As the public watches a documentary all about the case and the people involved, they see more than crime.

Anatomy of a Relationship

1.8k+ words | fluff | When your friend comes over in the middle of the night to talk about guy problems, Tim finds out what your relationships really mean to you.

The Memories Get to Kickin' In

3.2k+ words | angst to fluff | singer!reader | Tim gets roped into going to a concert. He doesn't expect to have his heart broken during the first song, or to apologize to his ex-fiancée.

Last Day to Live

2.0k+ words | angst to fluff | SWAT!reader | You take a shot meant for someone else, and your boyfriend Tim Bradford has conflicting thoughts about your actions.

Lock and Key

1.9k+ words | fluff | pregnant!CSIphotographer!reader | When Angela and Nyla need someone to go undercover in a women's prison, you seem like the perfect candidate. Inside with Lucy, Tim, and Angela nearby, you find more than a killer.

Save You Again

1.5k+ words | fluff, comfort | veteran!doctor!wife!reader | Years after meeting on a battlefield, you have to save your husband Tim again. This time, you're married and in the hospital where you work.

Reminiscent of Us 1.6k+ words | While you deal with the aftermath of treating Tim's previous injuries, you're attacked in the hospital and reliant on Tim to save you... from yourself and the danger you face.

Chemistry Partners

2.0k+ words | fluff | PO!reader | Tim and Lucy assist you in locating a parolee in violation of his conditions. Lucy notices the undeniable chemistry between you and Tim, but doesn't expect Tim's response when she points it out.

The People You Deserve

3.9k+ words | angst to fluff | platonic/found family fic | While training as a rookie, you have a devastating argument with your parents. Tim realizes that you need someone - someone you deserve - and sets out to become that person for you.

A Sacred Guardian

4.1k+ words | angst to fluff | Cybertronian!reader | Tim and Lucy experience a number of glitches with their new shop. When Tim loses control of the wheel, he and Lucy learn that they've become involved in a fight that is not their own. You save their lives and gain yourself a new position in the process.

A Sacred Guardian's Duty 6.0k+ words | angst to fluff | While assisting Tim and Lucy in a street racing sting, you're abducted by Decepticons. Tim challenges Optimus's leadership and learns that his experience with war won't help the Autobots... or you.

Still Find You

3.6k+ words | angst to fluff | You're abducted from your coffee shop and Tim has to trust his instincts to find you before it's too late.

Hook, Line, and NOPE!

4.4k+ words | brief angst to fluff | Tim Bradford gets hooked on loving you, but you play hard to get. After you finally admit that you feel the same, everybody says he's sleeping with the enemy.

Playing Favorites

3.2k+ words | angst to fluff | Tim trains you differently, uncaring that he's accused of playing favorites. When he realizes that the scars your trauma left go deeper than your approach to police work, he accidentally falls in love with you, and you're beside him for it all.

Anonymity

3.3k+ words | fluff | singer!reader | You and Tim Bradford have secret lives, but when you see one another, the desire to wear a mask disappears.

Anonymity [Track 2] 3.4k+ words | During your final tour show, you sing to Tim Bradford rather than the thousands of people watching. Despite the reason you're both wearing masks, you can see each other clearly.

Decibels

2.6k+ words | angst to fluff | During a city-wide crime spree, you push Tim away to deal with your trauma responses on your own. Tim proves to you that he can be a strength for you, not a weakness.

Break My Rules

3.8k+ words | brief angst, fluff | Smitty!reader | You have a rule not to date men who work with your dad - who just happens to be Quigley Smitty. After becoming friends with Lucy Chen, you meet Tim Bradford and realize that some rules hurt you more than they help you.

Damaged

1.6k+ words | angst to fluff | After a bad evening with your parents, Tim Bradford reminds you that you aren't damaged, and if your family won't be there for you, he will.

The Accent

2.3k+ words | platonic fluff | Cybertronian!reader (x Hot Rod) | You're shy, so when Tim Bradford sees you interact with one of your fellow Autobots, he's confused. Before he and Lucy learn that Hot Rod is more than a comrade, he wonders why you aren't so open with him.

Le Premier Accent (prequel) 2.2k+ words | fluff | When your alt mode is stolen by a well-meaning police officer, you become attached to him. His friend Lucy stumbles upon you and has a different reaction than the man you now guard.

Father's Faults

3.8k+ words | angst to fluff | Tim is distracted by his memories of his father, so you find an unprecedented way to keep him focused. After he lashes out at you for overstepping, he realizes that you understand and have your own memories to battle. Rather than bonding over that, you accept what's been between you since you first met.

Second First Mother's Day

1.6k+ words | fluff | wife!reader | Angela and Nyla take you out for a late Mother's Day gift, and Tim is left alone while your friends care for your babies.

Blood-Stained Aisle

7.6k+ words | angst to fluff | wife!SAHM!reader | One of your cold cases is reopened after an odd incident at a Los Angeles church. You return to the Mid-Wilshire station with your daughter and work alongside your friends, old and new, to solve a case that's haunted you and the city for three years.

Different Nervousness

3.8k+ words | angst to fluff | In your previous job as a waitress, your trust was betrayed by a boss who sexually harassed you. Now, your TO Tim Bradford makes you nervous. When Tim finds out why you distance yourself from him, he has a few thoughts he's willing to share.

Embarrassed to Be Loved

1.6k+ words | brief angst to fluff/comfort | shy!reader | After overhearing an officer joke that Tim must be embarrassed to be in a relationship with you because you're so shy, Tim reminds you that he loves you how you are. He also gets an apology.

[sugar-phoenix]

cowboy, you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly. ✦

synopsis: Boothill doesn't do things quietly. He's loud, and messy, and he likes doing things his way. Even though these all annoy you somewhat, the cowboy starts growing on you. And then one day, he does something unexpected. tags: f!reader, f/m, no smut, fluff, light angst, mentions of Boothill's past a/n: 2.5k words, this was a lot of fun to write. hope you guys enjoy it!

ao3 link here!

Your heels clacked as you walked down the halls, the ground littered with bodies and empty bullet shells. You sighed. Unlike Boothill, who left the remains of IPC soldiers and his mark everywhere in the form of bullet holes dotting the walls, you preferred to do your work neater, quieter. His loud whoops and hollers echoed down the corridor from ahead, making you cringe.

There were many things Boothill was in excess of. Too fierce. Too exposed. Too gleeful. Too loud.

You were not fond of loud.

“I got the place cleared for you, ma’am.” Boothill’s voice rang out like a bell.

“I noticed,” you responded, turning into the server room. In front of you, server towers loomed overhead, blinking with a million eyes. “You’re not very subtle, cowboy.”

“Subtle? Why would I wanna be subtle when I could strike fear into the heart of the IPC?” Boothill chuckled.

“Being subtle can be pretty scary,” you mused, going to the main terminal and typing the code you were given. “What could instigate more fear than an invisible threat you can’t see?”

“I dunno. I like to think that knowin’ who your enemy is and knowin’ that nothing can stop him is way more scary, lady.”

Boothill sank his pistol into his holster, then strode over to where you were standing, the sound of his body moving like oiled machinery.

“After all, ain’t knowin’ how you’ll die the most terrifyin’ thing of all?”

“Touché,” you conceded, scanning the database for the folder you wanted. Boothill waited at your side, and you felt a little shock that the man who was, only minutes ago a whirlwind of gunmetal and gleaming sharp teeth, could now stand so still.

Finally, you found the folder you were looking for, and you loaded it into a drive you inserted into the terminal. Boothill had offered the use of his own ports as a way to store the data, but you had refused. Data was no good to you if you could not parse through it with your own eyes.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you said as the download finished. “Let’s get out of this place.”

The cowboy at your side said nothing but smiled, flashing his razor teeth. You both stepped out into the hallway, only to be met with a new squadron of IPC guards.

“Looks like they sent the calvalry,” you remarked.

“Yeah? Well, if you know anythin’ about cowboys, you’ll know that we don’t take kindly to calvalry.”

And with that, he was off, shooting and hollering and kicking. You ducked back into the server room, letting the cowboy have his fun, and shook your head. When the sound of gunfire had stopped, Boothill leaned around the corner.

“‘S all clear! I took care of ‘em.”

You stepped out to find a pile of bodies and more bullet holes in the walls. Well, I guess this time it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like my handiwork?” Boothill commented at your slightly dismayed expression.

“Cowboy,” you sighed, “you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly.”

He only laughed, a rough raucous sound that reverberated down the hallway as the two of you made your exit.

✦✦✦

You stood in the middle of the ballroom in a shape-hugging red gown, fanning yourself with a paper hand fan. Eyes searching the surrounding crowd, you looked for the familiar cowboy hat. You found Boothill standing against the back of the room, looking absolutely miserable in his suit. A smile creeped up your lips. It took a lot of hemming and hawing to get him to wear that suit.

“I need my body bare, otherwise I’ll overheat,” he’d said.

“Boothill, darling, it’ll just be for the night. You’re going to cause an uproar if you just walk in with that sorry excuse for a jacket. It would be absolutely scandalous. We need to be subtle tonight.” You had adopted the pet name after a few missions with him. The two of you were slowly becoming fond of each other.

“What’s wrong with a little ruckus?” Boothill had asked. “I like ruckus.”

“I know you do, but just this once we could do without it. Come on. You get to cause ruckus every other mission we’ve had so far. You can live without making noise just this once.”

To your surprise, he conceded, taking the suit from your hands and walking to a room, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Now you felt a little sorry as you watched him. He looked like a dog that had been forced into a humiliating outfit just for its owner’s enjoyment.

Your eyes met, and you flashed your fan over your face. The signal. You had gotten what you came here for. Relief flashed over Boothill’s face, and he made his way through the crowd to you as you started walking towards the exit.

You stopped abruptly when you saw the exit.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Boothill asked, then, “oh,” as he saw what caused you to pause.

The archways were lined with more security guards than either of you had remembered when you first came in.

“They know we’re here,” you whispered. “They’re waiting to catch us on the way out.”

Boothill said nothing. You saw the calculations happen in his crosshair eyes. Slowly, he smiled, revealing his shark teeth in a devilish grin.

“Oh Boothill. No.” You said with dread.

“Oh but we don’t have much o’ a choice, do we?” he whispered. “Just let me do what I do best, darlin’.”

You looked at him, and he caught the worry in your eyes.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I always get out, don’t I?”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

Boothill smiled wider than he had the entire night, and stepped away from you, making his way back into the crowd. You reached under the slit in your dress, hand on the dagger strapped to your thigh. The feeling of the hilt under your hand grounded you. It wasn’t long until you heard three deafening gunshots, and glass raining down from above. Chaos and panic erupted, and over all of them, the familiar laugh you’d grown to love. You watched as the archways were flooded, and the guards rushed towards the cause of the ruckus.

Taking the chance, you merged in with the panicked crowd streaming outside the ballroom, as more gunshots echoed behind you. Once you were out, you rushed to your sports car, and got into the driver’s seat. It roared to life as you turned the ignition, and you took it out of the car park and drove it to wait in front of the entrance. Panicked partygoers ran around your car, but your eyes were focused on the entrance. The way you white-knuckled the steering wheel would definitely leave imprints.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered. “Come on, cowboy.”

A beat passed, then two, then ten, and Boothill was nowhere to be seen. You got anxious, watching the large golden arches that led into the ballroom with the giant crystal chandelier that hung above them outside.

Just when you were about to accept that Boothill had been captured, or worse, dead, he emerged from the entrance, a crazed grin on his face, his expensive suit torn in shreds. You sighed in relief. Just before he reached the car, he turned around, aiming upwards, and pulled his trigger. Five bullets flew through the air, severing the chains of the giant chandelier. The guards chasing Boothill were trapped in the ballroom as the light fixture fell to the ground in front of them, shattered glass scattering everywhere. Boothill cackled, then leapt over the hood, taking his seat in the passenger side. You wasted no time flooring the gas pedal, the car screeching away from the ballroom.

“Should teach those muddlefudgers not to waste money on showin’ off,” Boothill laughed.

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“Hard time wrapping things up neatly,” you said.

“That’s just my trademark, darlin.’”

The two of you glanced at each other, grinning wildly, as your car sped into the night.

✦✦✦

You gazed out the windows of the Astral Express. The endless expanse of space unrolled before you, a landscape of endless opportunities.

Boothill had been called to the Astral Express for a favor, and he thought you should tag along.

“They’re a pretty cool bunch, you should come meet ‘em. Who knows, they might come in handy for ya in the future.”

You didn’t need the cowboy’s persuasion to come and meet the famed Nameless. You were more than happy for a chance to come face to face with these trailblazers, to converse with them and see how they operated.

The Astral Express crew surprised you at first. They were less of an organized team and more like a ragtag family of people from all different walks of life. Pom Pom, the little conductor of the express, scrutinized you for a bit until they sniffed (disapprovingly or approvingly you couldn’t tell), and announced, “Pom Pom welcomes you aboard the Express.”

Soon after, you got to meet the rest of the Express crew. There was March 7th, the cheerful girl with bubblegum-pink hair. There was Dan Heng, the quiet, reserved young man who often kept to himself in the Astral Express' database archives. There was Stelle, the mysterious gray-haired girl who was apparently a repository for a Stellaron. She kept quiet at first, but soon you learned she had a joke for every occasion and didn't hesitate to crack one even at the most inopportune moments, to the chagrin of her companions. Then to the two stewards of the Express: Himeko, the red-haired, confident navigator, and Welt, deep in thought and with a walking stick he kept close to himself at all times.

 Boothill seemed to fit right in. He was the one who introduced you excitedly to Dan Heng, cackling and talking about how they were “best buds.” Despite Dan Heng’s embarassment at first, you could tell he enjoyed the presence of the cowboy. In that way, you felt a sort of kinship with him.

 The two of you hung out on the Express for a few days, as Boothill helped them with one of their trips. They were currently orbiting a planet named Jarilo VI. Boothill had encouraged you to stay aboard the Express and take a break, but today, Himeko saw you watching the window.

"If you want, you can go down with the rest of them," she said.

"I think I might,” you responded. “Forget what Boothill said about taking a break, I'm at my happiest when I'm working on something anyway."

She smiled knowingly.

It wasn't long before you landed on the cold planet, and it was an even shorter time before you found the crew. Stelle, March, Dan Heng, and Boothill were in a clinic, accompanied by a small child with bright yellow hair and a doctor who wore a large apron. You'd soon come to know that these two were Hook and Natasha, respectively.

Boothill made a show of being upset that you weren't on the Express, but you could tell that he was very happy you had decided to join them after all.

Apparently the crew had been on a wild goose chase, and to your mild disappointment they were finished with the whole affair. Stelle, March 7th, and Boothill all attempted to explain the situation to you, and Dan Heng kept sighing and correcting them every five sentences, so in the end you understood very little.

As the four of you walked out of the clinic, Hook caught up to Boothill and tugged at his pants.

"You aren't leaving, mister, are you?"

Boothill turned around, and in a manner you'd previously thought uncharacteristic, he crouched down and ruffled the young girl's hair.

"I am, sweetheart," he replied.

 "But, but, you're a member of the Moles now! You have to stay with us."

"Oh, and I'm only an *honorary* member?" Stelle asked, in mock anger. Hook giggled mischievously, then turned back to the cowboy.

"Also, I need your help with something," she added.

"Oh? What's that?" Boothill asked. Hook produced a strange trinket from one of her pockets.

"I wanna give this to my daddy, but I dunno how to wrap it up."

Boothill chuckled, ruffling her hair again.  “Your daddy sure is lucky to have a little girl like you.”

Then he did something that was so unexpected, the action of it was seared into your memory forever.

Slowly, he took off the bandana from around his neck, and laid it flat on the ground. Then, he took the trinket from Hook's hands and put it on top of the bandana, in the center. Deftly, and with a gentleness you'd seen from him very rarely, Boothill wrapped up the object with careful folding and gentle knots, then presented the object to Hook.

"There you go. And once your daddy opens it, you can wrap the bandana around your own neck, and I'll be there with ya and the Moles in spirit."

Tears sprung to Hook's eyes and she surged forward, hugging his neck and wailing loudly. Boothill chuckled, patting her back tenderly.

✦✦✦

The crisis with Jarilo VI solved, you and Boothill bade the Astral Express crew goodbye and went on your way. In the small spaceship you sat in, you gave Boothill a look.

What Hook and the Astral Express Crew didn't know was that the bandana he wore around his neck was very dear to him. A remnant of his past, a past that he had talked very little about with you, even though the two of you had gotten very close with each other.

Boothill sighed, feeling your gaze on him. "You wanna ask me about what happened with the girl, I can tell."

"Well, I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess that's fine with me--" you started.

"No, no it's fine. It's somethin' I should've told ya long before. It's just painful for me is all."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay for him not to tell you, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

"What I never told you before, darlin’, was that I used to have a little girl of my own."

You raised a hand to your mouth. Never in your life would you have thought that the man in front of you—loud, brash and reckless—was ever a father.

"Before I was a Galaxy Ranger, before I got this metal body that I have now, I used to be just a cowboy. And one day I found myself with a daughter. Precious thing, loved her to death." He paused, taking in a deep breath, then let it out. "The IPC, they came to our planet... and they took her away from me. Took her and my whole family away from me. Razed everything I had to the ground.

 “That bandana I wore, well. It was my only reminder of her."

"Oh," you said, understanding why he was so guarded about it in the past. There was a long pause as you waited for Boothill to talk again.

 "But that girl, Hook," he started again, "she… reminded me of my daughter." Boothill took a shuddering breath. He had lost his ability to cry a long time ago, and you knew this, but sometimes he did things that told you he was weeping, invisibly. Until now you hadn't known what about.

"They would have been friends," he said softly.

"I'm sure they would have," you agreed.

You thought about the way he wrapped the gift for Hook.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" you asked.

"Do what?" he replied.

"What you did with the gift. How you folded it."

"Oh, that," he chuckled. "Some things you pick up being a dad."

There was another pause before you decided to speak again. "Well, I'll admit I was wrong about you then."

 "Wrong about what?" he asked, and you chuckled a little before answering.

"Turns out, cowboy, you do know how to wrap things up neatly."

Boothill laughed then, a soft, light sound, and you smiled.

comments are also very appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

[ihavethedreamiesx]

Easy | Felix | Easy to Expert (1) [NSFW]

Lee Yongbok (Felix - Stray Kιds)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.9k

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Biting, One Singular Spank, He Gets a Bit Rough, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Don't do what they do.)

Summary: In which you can't normally get off and Felix doesn't like this one bit.

Author's Note: Imagine trying to write something like this with a straight face because you are at your uncle's house in the living room with everyone else there and you can't go anywhere else...

Also your friend's name is Yuna here and she's not a reference to any idol or anything, this was just the name that came to mind.

-> Part 2 <-

Revised (1/30/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

"He had the stamina of a work horse; I thought I was going to die."

"Really?" You weren't convinced.

"No, seriously. I have never cum that many times in one session." Your friend shakes her head, and you blink. You watched her take a swig of beer and you took another bite of chicken.

"You started without us?" Someone whines behind you, and you turn to see Jisung and Minho coming up to your table. The younger man pouts as he sits down in the empty chair next to you while Minho sits on his other side.

"You guys are half an hour late." Yuna sneers at them, waving a drumstick aggressively.

"Where's everyone else?" you ask.

"Seungmin can't make it, Jeongin is sick. Chan and Changbin are on their way from the studio. Felix and Hyunjin just left campus after dance practice." Minho lists off, waving his hand up to get the auntie's attention to get beer.

"Is Jinnie going to shower first? Poor thing looks like he fell in a pond after dance practice." Yuna bounces a bit as she talks since the waitress brings over the order of Tteokbokki you’d ordered.

"That's why they're late." Jisung speaks around a mouthful.

"Anyway, he ended up breaking up with me because I apparently wasn't enough for his libido." Yuna continues her story despite the fact that two of the boys had arrived and Chan and Changbin are arriving.

"Woah, what?" Chan laughs setting his bag down next to her and the other man sits across from Minho.

"Is this the same guy who said he wished he had two dicks to fuck twice as much?" Changbin asks as you watch his shirt tighten over his chest as he takes his jacket off. Everything he wears is so tight…You’re taken out of your zone-out when he scoffs, "My eyes are up here (Y/N)." Everyone laughs at you and your face tingles a bit, you take a sip of beer not meeting his eyes.

"Wait, what?" Chan asks again and Yuna rolls her eyes.

"Yeah. I think he is possessed by a sex demon or something, geez."

"Who are we talking about?" The oldest man asks. Yuna then recaps everything she’d told you to Chan who stares blankly at her the whole time.

"Okay, way more than I ever needed to know." He shakes his head and grabs his chopsticks.

"You don't even know the half of it." Changbin huffs and the other girl gasps dramatically.

"You ask me to tell you most of it!"

"Not everything! I really didn't care about who you did everything with first, that is a long-ass list."

"A list of asses?" Minho seems to tune in at a very specific time.

"Do I want to know?" A new voice groans as Hyunjin sits at the end of the table. Felix comes around to the other end near you and takes a seat.

"Yuna is sharing WAY too much again." Jisung's eyes got big to emphasize his point.

"Well, this started because (Y/N)-"

"NO!" You almost leap across the table to shut her up. That unfortunately makes the boys all the more curious and it’s getting steadily louder as they urge you to share. If not but to spare the rest of the patrons and workers, you finally relent.

"I just told her that I don't see too much point in rushing into sex in a relationship because I don't get much out of it." You don’t look at anyone, just cast a glare at Yuna, then back at your beer bottle.

"Well, you need to find someone else then." Minho tells you matter-of-factly.

"It doesn’t matter, and it's not like partners haven't tried…I just can't…I-I can't finish…" You mumble the last part, and it goes deathly silent. You can feel the eyes on you but for some reason, the ones to your left are burning. Glancing up to meet Felix's stare, you're startled by his expression. He looks…intense. You shift under his gaze. He knows you like him, and you knows he likes you, but not much has come of it. You two kissed briefly a few weeks ago but it was interrupted, and it hasn’t happened since.

"Wait, seriously? Have you ever?" Chan asks, he’d stopped eating. This is serious to him.

"Yeah, but it takes forever. I have to do it myself and it isn't easy." You shrug. Because of this fact you haven’t had very many sexual encounters or partners. It’s just frustrating when nothing ever comes of it.

"So that's when I told her that my last boyfriend might be able to do it since he got me off like six times at once." Yuna explains as she shoves more food in her mouth.

"Did your ex ever do it?" Jisung asks and you nod.

"Once." That isn’t why you’d broken up; he’d moved away for work and long distance doesn’t work too well so you drifted apart.

"Have I ever told you guys about my college roommate's girlfriend?" Hyunjin cuts in and quickly everyone is diverted over to his story and the fact that this girl was not loyal by any means. And neither was her boyfriend. Unfortunately for Hyunjin, he was both of their types, and he ended up having to switch rooms. The night continues and as more food is eaten, more alcohol is consumed. The rowdiness becomes too much, and you’re more or less kicked out. Yuna is drunk and Changbin promises to get her home in one piece, so he leaves with her on his back. Chan, Jisung, and Hyunjin follow suit since they’re all going to the same place, and you’re left with Minho and Felix.

"I'll walk her home. Go check on Jeongin, he might be asleep already but he's not texting back." Felix tells the older man who nods and says goodbye so you two are left alone. You only had one beer tonight and Felix didn’t even finish his, so you’re not even tipsy.

"I-I can get home okay; I didn’t drink much." You tried to wave him off.

"It’s okay. Just because you're sober doesn't mean I should let you go alone." He smiles softly and you internally gush over how pretty he is.

"Thanks." Beginning to head in the opposite direction of everyone else, you two walk in silence for most of the time, but it’s companionable. In your head you just keep replaying the small kiss from a few weeks before, not really sure why you’re looping on it. When you get to your building, you expect him to leave you at the door, but he opens the door for you and leads you toward the elevator.

"D-Do you want to come in? I have some cheesecake left that I can't finish on my own…" You can’t meet his gaze as you wait for the elevator.

"Sure, thanks." His deep voice is so warming, and you wonder what it would sound like whispering in your ear. You shakes your head to clear the thought and get in the lift to get to your floor. Keying in your pin code, the door chimes, and you let him into your apartment. You live alone and so your place has some clutter about. You hang your coat and bag up, changing to slippers, then move to clear the papers and pens off the couch. After moving the stuff into a more organized pile on the coffee table, you stand and turn to go to the kitchen, but instead run into Felix's chest. He’s wearing a grey turtleneck that is way tighter than you’d think it could be on him. His sleeves are already rolled up to his elbows and his hand moves to steady you when you stumble in surprise at his proximity. Compared to other men, he isn’t very tall, but he’s still quite a bit taller than you. When the hands that steadied you move from your arms to your waist, you’re pulled to him even closer. Your breath hitches and your hands instinctually grip the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders. When your eyes meet, he leans in and as his lips hover over yours, his deep voice rumbling through you.

"Can I?"

"Y-yes." Your hands move to rest closer to his neck and he kisses you. This one is different than before. Last time was chaste and soft, but this is growing heated fast. Felix tilts his head more and licks at your bottom lip prompting you to open your mouth. You moan softly as his tongue invades your mouth and when he groans back it’s like thunder shakes you. Reluctantly, you let him pull away so you both can take a breather.

"Is what you said true? You really can't cum?"

"M-most of the time." It’s embarrassing to talk about it in front of everyone, but for some reason it seems like Felix is taking it personally.

"Hm. If you let me, I might be able to help." He leans down some to say this right into your ear, then he sucks on your ear lobe. You shudder and tilt your head to let him get better access to your neck. He lays searing kisses along your skin, and you swallow hard.

"O-okay." You’re a bit reluctant since it hasn’t worked well before. At the same time, he’s turning you on way faster than anyone or anything else before. You’re not blind, or deaf, he’s incredibly attractive, and you’d be stupid to say no. Felix's lips pull into a smile against your throat and he sucks on that spot hard, his teeth digging in slightly. You moan louder than you mean to, and he can feel your throat vibrate as you do. Not realizing he could pull you closer, when he does you feel him hard against your stomach. His lips moves from your neck, which now have at least three bruises on it, back to your mouth and he dominates the kiss, taking complete control. Finally, to gain more oxygen, he pulls away from you and your head swims. He can sense that you’re dazed, so he wraps his arms around you and picks you up, carrying you to your room. Setting you down at the end of your bed, he kneels before you, the look on his face shocks you. You’re expecting a fire there, lust, but it’s so warm and soft, and you aren’t sure how to react.

"I'm doing this because I like you so much. I hate that no one makes you feel good like you deserve. But at the same time…" The hand on your waist digs into your flesh and his expression sharpens, "I want to be able to say I'm the only one that can say he do. Easy." His confession makes your walls clench around nothing.

"Will you let me?" Felix asks.

"Of…of course. I like you too-" He cuts you off with another devouring kiss and his hands wander under your sweater and helps you take it off. If you’d known this was going to happen, you wouldn't have worn such a plain set of underwear. As the make-out session continues he also removes your socks and pants, and he finally pulls back to take his own clothes off. You watch with rapt attention as his turtleneck comes off, and…damn. Felix is way more ripped than you thought he would be. Not quite to the level of Chan or Changbin, but… You’re even more enthralled as he takes his belt off and undoes his jeans to let them fall. His hard cock strains against the black fabric of his tight briefs, but he leaves them on as he kneels before you again. He stands as high as he can on his knees, making him eye level with you.

"Can I?" He reaches around your back, and you nod so he can unhook your plain nude bra. As he takes it off, he gently bumps his forehead against yours and flashes a smile.

"You're so pretty." He coos and you huff, looking away in embarrassment.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black." You mumble and he giggles. Felix lays a soft kiss on your lips then begins to move down. To your neck, collarbone, sternum, then down your right breast where he latches his mouth around your nipple. You exhale and let him do what he wants. He doesn’t garner much of a reaction, but it feels better than it normally does. He hums in thought and then he rolls his tongue around the peak of your breast, then his teeth slightly dig in, and you gasp. The corners of his mouth pull into a smile, and he sucks hard on your nipple again and your skin tingles. Goosebumps rise on your arms, and he pulls away with a pop and moves to do the same to the other side. Your breathing gets a bit heavier and as he pulls away from your chest, he presses his hand on your sternum, telling you to lay back. You do so and as you do; he straight up bites your left breast on the swell of the flesh. This pulls a surprised moan from you, and he smirks, pulling back.

"You left a mark!" You scoff and he laughs, "You're going to end up with a lot more, love." You gape at him and before you can answer, his mouth is back on you, kissing over your ribs. You sigh and he moves down to your belly button, then licks a path up to under your breasts. His actions heat your skin, and he moves back down to the waistband of your panties.

"You okay with this?" His fingers had slipped under the fabric to run along your butt, his face close to your covered pussy. He can smell your arousal already and can’t wait to bury his tongue inside you.

"Yes. How about I tell you if I'm not and you just do whatever you want." You finally tell him. You love that he asks and makes sure, but you just want him to keep going.

"Whatever I want?" He whispers to himself, and his intense gaze meets yours.

"Are you sure, love?"

"Y-yes." You feel like a small furry creature about to be devoured by a tiger.

"Hm." He smirks and his fingers digs into the flesh of your ass, dragging you to the end of the bed. Felix presses his face into your covered cunt and licks at your clit through the fabric. You twitch a bit, but not enough for his liking. He clicks his tongue and instead of pulling your panties off, he tears them off. The side hem is fraying a bit, and it allows him to rip the fabric, and he tosses the remnant away. You would have complained if it was a nicer pair. The display of strength is incredibly attractive. Once again, Felix's hands grip your ass, hauling you closer and immediately shoves his tongue into your cunt. You exhale harshly, laying back. It’s as if he’s a man lost in the desert and you’re an oasis. He’s practically drinking from you, devouring you. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue reaches as deep as he can get it. You grunt slightly, surprised at how good it feels. He notices that every time the tip of his nose hits your button that you flinch very slightly. Removing his face from between your legs for a moment, he takes his thumbs and spreads you open, and you squeal. It’s embarrassing, but you don’t say anything, so he keeps going, smirking as you cover your face. Licking another stripe from your core to your clit, he seals his lips around the little bud and sucks as hard as he can. Your hips jump slightly, and your breathing picks up, but it isn’t enough yet. Furrowing his brow, he pulls back again, tipping his head. If he wasn’t doing what he is, it would be rather cute. He has one more trick up his sleeve... He takes his thumb once again and rubs a circle over your clit to see how you react. Glancing up he pushes harder against it to fully expose it, then he leans forward to suck again. It’s a stronger feeling than before and it makes your hips jump again but then he does something unexpected, he places your clit between his teeth and nibbles.

"Fuck!" You twitch hard, he wraps his arm around your hips to hold them down, then he sucks again and gave another little nibble.

"F-Felix-" You gasp, and you’re getting close. It’s a different feeling than even the few times before. As he abuses your poor little clit, he quickly inserts two fingers in your rapidly wetting cunt. This makes you gasp again, and he can feel how tight you’ll be, but he’s figuring out you need a little bit of pain. Once more, he nibbles down, and at the same time he crooks his fingers up hard against your sweet spot and you fall apart. You see white, you’d never felt anything to this extent before. You slam your hand over your mouth, but he can still hear you nearly scream out a moan and he smiles cockily; your pussy walls clenching hard around his fingers and cum spurts out of your cunt. He holds your hips down, feeling the muscles twitch and spasm. It seems like it lasts forever and when you finally come down, you’re panting hard. He kneels straighter, pulling his fingers out of you, and notes that you’d draped your arm over your eyes, and he can’t tell if there’s tears or sweat flowing down your cheeks. As he stands, Felix licks his fingers clean, and he kneels over you some and pries your arm from your face. You look dazed, and he still can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears.

"You did so good, love." He strokes the hairs back that are stuck to your forehead.

"How the actual fuck did you do that?" You gape and he guffaws.

"It seems you like it to hurt a bit?"

"Hurt? It didn’t?" You seem genuinely confused. Are you really that insensitive? With how tight your cunt was around his fingers he thought for sure it would have stung a bit. Most of the time getting bitten somewhere that tender would hurt some even if it felt good.

"Interesting…" He thinks for a second then looks back down at you.

"Do you wanna keep going?" Felix brushes a drop of the moisture from your cheek, and you glance at him.

"Why wouldn't I?" He huffs at that.

"You look like you just run a marathon."

"Felix, if you can make me cum, I'm going to let you do it as many times as possible." You deadpan and his shocked expression softens, and he hums. He bends over and kisses your forehead gently. His hand grabs yours and he brings your knuckles to his lips so he can press another kiss there.

"(Y/N), I just want you to know, that I really like you, and I want to just hold you and love you all night." He admits and your heart begins to thud.

"But I think what you need is to be fucked senseless." His voice deepens even further, and his gaze sharpens. Your heart races even more, and it seems he’s waiting for permission.

"Oh, god, please." You say quickly and he chuckles.

"Scoot up." He kisses your hand once more then lets go and gets off the bed, letting you do as he requested. He goes and turns your lamp on and shuts the big overhead light off. He comes over as you pull your nightstand drawer open to make sure you do have condoms and that they aren’t expired.

"What's this?" He stops next to you as you grab the box, and his hand reaches in a grabs something else.

"Oh, uh-" Before you can answer he opens the box. He knows what it is before he asks. Inside there is a series of sex toys and it seems none of them could do the trick. Bullet vibrator, one looks like a rose with suction, there is a rabbit vibrator, but the one that shocked him the most is the butt plug. It vibrates too and the plastic still hasn’t been taken off of the box.

"Woah." He teases, pulling it out and you groan.

"Haven't tried it?"

"I…Nothing else worked so I figured it’s worth a try, but I got nervous…"

"Hmm." He’s thinking something, and you aren’t sure you like the look on his face.

"Another time." He shakes his head and drops it back in the box and puts it in the drawer again and takes the condom box from you.

"Hm." He hums again and you shoot him a look.

"What?"

"Have you tried anything with like ribbing or whatever?"

"Yes…doesn’t do jack. Even did the ones with like warming lube and stuff."

"…I have an idea but only if you're okay with it?"

"What?"

"I know it’s good to be double sure, but you're on the pill, yeah?"

"Yes."

"It seems you have trouble feeling stuff there, you would probably feel more without this." He rattles the box. He has a point, the only reason you use both is for security.

"We can get the morning after thing if you want-"

"That's fine." He seems to know what he’s doing, and you aren’t overly worried about it.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Felix." You assure and he nods, dropping the box back into the drawer, "They're the wrong size anyway." He mutters that to himself, but you catch it. Closing the drawer, he crawls back onto the bed and kneels at your feet, then casts you a look. You nod and he pulls your knees apart and for some reason it’s still embarrassing even though his tongue has literally been inside you. You’re neither a virgin nor a prude, but for some reason, since it’s Felix, it feels different.

"Relax, love." He smiles, pressing his lips to yours again and his tongue slips into your mouth. You whine when he pulls back and he chuckles, then maneuvers and removes his underwear and throws them somewhere.

"Fuck." You whine and you want him in your mouth.

"This is about you, love, not me." He pinches your nose, able to tell what you’re thinking from the expression on your face.

"Fine." You pout and his fingers go back to your cunt and gathers the wetness there and you watch as he strokes himself to get ready. What the fuck was he fed that despite his small size his cock is that big? Whatever it was also probably made his voice as deep as it is as well.

"Ready? I'm going to be rough with you." He warns, his sharp gaze rehardened, the softness still there underneath.

"Please." You let him just grab you, he spreads your legs open wide, a slight burn in your hamstrings. There’s very little time between the head of his cock meeting your cunt and him burying all the way to the hilt. It takes your breath away and he grunts at how tight your hot core feels around him. He’d honestly never had sex without a condom before either. After being inside your wet heat with no barrier, he don’t think he can ever do anything but, especially since he plans on being with you longer than he consciously realizes. You’re shivering at the sensation, his hot flesh searing through you, spreading you open so much so instantly. It stings some but it feels better than any other time and you aren’t sure if it’s because he’s fucking you raw or that he’s just that big. You don’t even want to know how much bigger Chan supposedly is. He contemplates letting you get used to him, but Felix is losing control fast, and it seems that you like it rough. His hands on your thighs spread them open, gripping the flesh, easily swinging your legs up so he folds you in half, your knees at your ears.

"Hold on, love." Using his dancing skills, he snaps his hips as hard as he can, and your next orgasm hits you. If you whited out before, you practically blacked out this time. It’s like water rushes over your head, your rapid pulse thudding in your ears, your blood audibly racing. He grunts and you can barely hear it through the ringing in your ears and he digs his fingers hard into the flesh of your thighs to hold back his own orgasm. Your walls are hugging his cock so tight, and you’re practically gushing around him. He hopes that he’d pulled some kind of seal off of you, and that he can get you to fall apart over and over and over. He wants to be the one that can say he fucked you stupid and that no one can ever finish you simply because they aren’t him. His ego shoots through the roof, and he wants to ruin you. When he first thought of going through with this, the plan was to show you how much he loves you, what you mean to him. But he had no idea what you like and what would finally get you off. If you need it rough, he’ll do it. Looping his thoughts to keep distracted from the vice of your cunt, he finally feels you relax, and you nearly go boneless, your legs in his grip losing all strength. You’re heaving for air again, not sure which way is up or down, how old you are, or even your own name. All you can think of is Felix.

"No!" You yipe as he pulls out, but he rolls you over onto your stomach, hauled your hips up, your face pressed to the pillow and he buries his cock back into your needy pussy, making you white-knuckle the sheets. He begins a truly relentless pace, and it’s the best thing anyone has ever done to you.

"You like my cock, love?"

"Fuck, yes!" You manage to get out, each thrust makes you silently scream, forming words becomes nearly impossible. Maybe the fact that he got you to orgasm allowed you to be more sensitive; then maybe because you’d tried for so hard for so long with no success, your body can finally let go. Felix has the key to not only your heart, it seems, but your cunt as well.

Leaning forward, he grips the frame of your bed for leverage and keep his thrusts just as hard but extremely shallow. The fat head of his cock beat against your back walls so hard that you’re sure they would forever be molded to only him. You feel another climax rising and your own hands scrambled to grip the wooden rods of your bed frame as well.

"F-Felix!" You manage to get out and you watch one of his hands leave the frame above you, and he smacks your right ass cheek and upper thigh hard, and you fall over the edge again. This time, he can’t hold back either, and he fucks as deep into you as he can and fills your womb with his cum. That sensation makes your climax flare to max again even though it had begun to dissipate, and your fluttering canal helps him ride out his own orgasm. You thank the Lord birth control exists because you never want him to cum anywhere but inside after that. As you both catch your breath, he slowly pulls out of you and the adrenaline leaves you and now you’re sore. Your clit, your pussy, where he’d smacked you, everything. You don’t think you’ll be able to walk tomorrow. When he fully withdraws, your hips slump down and you flop flat onto the bed, not able to move.

"Hold on, love." He leans over you and kisses your hot cheek, covered in tears from the intensity of what he’s just reeked on you. You feel him wipe your used cunt off with a towel and you whine when he moves you to pull the blanket out from under you. He makes a note to remove the comforter before fucking you on the bed again, because he sure is planning on doing it again.

"You're fine, pretty girl." He chuckles and crawls into bed with you. He shuts the lamp off, and the room is cast in shadow before your eyes get used to the dull light of the streetlights behind the curtain. Getting settled, he sees you’d laid on your side already, the only way you can fall asleep. Smiling, he curls around you, wiggling his arm under your head and wraps his other around your middle. He rests his hand on your tummy, holding you close. He has to be careful, your cute little butt pressed against his now-covered groin is enough on its own to get him riled back up. The arm under your head bends so his hand can rest on your forehead, and he kisses the back of your head.

"Goodnight, love." Felix hugs you as close as possible, loving being your big spoon.

"I won’t be able to walk tomorrow." You mumble and buries his nose in your hair and smiles smugly.

"If you can I won’t have done my job right."

"Thank you, 'Lix."

"Of course, sweet." Another kiss to your head.

"Go to sleep. I'll take care of you tomorrow. And every day after that you'll have me." His deep but quiet voice rumbles next to your ear, and you link your fingers with his on the hand on your stomach.

"I'll always have you, Felix."

"Good, because you're stuck with me now."

-> Part 2 <-

Master-List

[m-jelly]

hi! I love your fics sm! If its not a problem i would love to request a canon levi ackerman x fem! reader fic please?

Y/n is also a high ranking scout like levi and every one knows they're in a relationship for the past few months, even though they're both low-key about it. The problem started when some other lady started to hit on levi and flirt with him, and not just casually. She started to insert herself into their lives, getting way too involved in personal matters and y/n feels quite hurt by this. Y/N however puts her foot down and sets boundaries, and she's about to show the other lady her place but Levi beats her to it, successfully defending Y/N and showing that lady he's Y/N's man and doesn't let her disrupt their lives anymore. And once the other lady leaves, Y/N kind of just bursts into tears due to sheer relief and thankfulness because of she's so used to seeing other men entertain the other woman and didn't expect levi to stand up for her and him and he comforts her.

The problem is inspired by a real life incident i've seen lmao. You don't have to do this if you want to <3

Defending the line

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, fluff, romance, slight angst, Levi being a stud, protective Levi, comfort.

Levi puts his foot down when he finally realises that a woman is flirting with him. After sending her packing, he reinforces his love for you.

It started as a chance meeting while you and Levi were on a date. You'd gone to a cafe to enjoy cakes together, but the most popular woman in the town saw this as fate, a chance meeting. She had talked to Levi while you both waited before joining your table to continue her chat. She acted nice around you, but used you to get to Levi.

You know Levi didn't pick up on flirting because a lot of women flirted, however, they backed down when they knew he wasn't registering it. When it came to you, Levi flirted first. When you flirted back, he did notice and would turn a very cute shade of pink. So, you knew he wasn't picking up on this woman's flirting, but you could see it.

You assumed you'd never see her again after Levi gave her the cold shoulder. She was persistent, though. The next time you saw her, the two of you had gone to see the kids at the orphanage. She started helping Levi out, causing you to be left alone. You didn't mind because you played with the children and cooked, but you missed your lover.

Next, you went to a special event where the scouts gathered with other officials to celebrate a few things. You were supposed to be Levi's date, but she inserted herself in every conversation and pushed you out of the way. It was all getting too much; you knew you had to do something.

You'd organised a date for you and Levi. You were going on a walk before stopping for a picnic you'd made. The two of you needed this because things at the scout base had gotten rough. You both had a lot of responsibilities that weighed heavily on your shoulders. It was too much, so you needed just something good.

As you walked together, you smiled sweetly at Levi, who blushed hard at having your undivided love and attention. He had insisted on carrying the picnic basket, and you let him. You couldn't help but think how dazzlingly handsome he looked in the warm glow of the summer sun. Levi's heart was racing because he thought you were truly a goddess who'd come into his life to save him. He counted his blessings every day.

"Levi!" Her high pitched voice cut through the light, warm breeze. She rushed over in a summer dress. "Are you going on a picnic! That's perfect timing, I'm off too. I brought some food as well. I made it myself."

That was it; this was too much, and she needed to back off. You wanted to scream at her to leave you two alone, that Levi was yours, that she couldn't have him. She was doing all of this with zero care for you and Levi. She wanted this and was going to get it.

"Enough!" Levi barked. "Tch, fuck off would you? You're so annoying. You're like a shit that won't come out after months of trying. I've put up with you long enough. You've pushed this shit too far." He said your name. "I'm sorry it took me this long to notice, but you know how I'm clueless with flirting."

You gulped. "Mm."

He looked back at the woman. "Fuck off. I don't want you. I don't like you. I've never liked you. I'd rather sleep in shit for months then go near you." He put his arm around you and yanked you close. "This is my woman. This is who I love. I'm going to marry her and live the rest of my life with her. If you ever come near us again, I'll break your fingers." He watched her run off, allowing him to sigh. "Sorry about that. I should have noticed sooner."

You whimpered as tears spilled down your cheeks. "Sorry." You rubbed your tears. "I'm sorry."

Levi's eyes widened. He softly called your name before grabbing your upper arm and tugging you to a private spot. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Thank you for telling her to go away. I just...so many men..." You sniffed. "Men in the past have just loved the attention of other women. I thought...I shouldn't have...you're different and perfect."

Levi pulled out a hankie and wiped your tears. "Tch, damn cute brat. Don't cry, okay? I love you and only you. All other men are fucking greedy shits if they want more than their perfect lover." He kissed your cheek. "I want you and only you. No one can compare to you. I adore you with everything in me." He cupped your face as he called your name. "I love you."

You sniffed. "I love you so much, Levi."

He tilted his head and captured your lips. He kissed you over and over as you clung to each other. He forgot all about being in public a little and just focused on you, the love of his life. He'd always love you and want you. You were his dream.

He pulled back and smiled. "You okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, thank you."

He held your hand. "Let's go on our picnic."

You rubbed your tears. "Mm, yes."

Tags under

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[starchants]

hi! i don’t know if you write for spike (btvs) but could you maybe write dating spike hcs? sfw & nsfw?

william ‘spike’ pratt x neutral!reader ; dating headcanons.

word count — 884.

themes + warnings ; some lovely fluff, some hints of angst thrown in because of our beloved troublesome tortured poet and some nsfw content as well!

author’s note — hi my lil starling <3! i do most certainly write for our favorite lil bad boy spike, i hope you enjoy <3! depressingly, i believe, this is shorter than my one with angel but that doesn’t mean that i don’t love him any less! i just literally ran out of headcanons at the moment cause my brain stopped working whoops! i could always expand upon him on a later date like i can with angel.

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

alright let’s state the obvious about our favorite troublesome poet : he will write tons of poems about you. his favorite topic to write about would be about love, at least i headcanon from his former human life, and so when he finds himself enthralled with you, you become his center focus in his beloved artship.

even if you do not like poetry, still please be supportive of him especially when you learn why he doesn't write his poetry as often as he used to when he was human. you see, in my personal headcanon, william (his human self of course) had been seen as too soft for a man as he liked the more feminine oddities such as : poetry, flowers, jewelry, fashion, and baking. mind you, this is all my personal headcanons as to why he was seen as soft.

so this vamp would adore you so so much more if you were to let him be himself and perhaps show interest in the oddities that he likes. obviously he would be the most supportive of you but if he was super supportive of you and didn't receive any back, i feel like he’d be put off of you despite how he feels towards you.

if you are an artistic soul like he is, spike would proudly marvel over your art — no matter how melancholy it might appear to be. he would goat about how his partner is the best at (insert your craft(s) here) and it would get to the point that the whole scooby gang would in-synchronicity claim "we know!" which would turn him into a blushing stuttering mess as he tries to play it off that he doesn't talk about your craft(s) that much. he contradicts himself sometimes as we all know.

he is the definition of a badass with a good soft heart. y'all get stuck out in the rain? he`s sacrificing his good leather and placing it over your head as he moves the pair of you underneath something where you would be dry and then y'all can watch the rain fall down upon sunnydale in a pretty lil art form. anyone happens to look at you in a wrong or potentially harmful way? spike is throwing hands with his vamp face out to scare them halfway to death before he even touches them. he`s a little protective over you, that`s all.

he’s obsessed with your touch. he’s severely touch deprived even if he doesn’t show it — please show him that he is capable of love, one that doesn’t surround around the madness of the woman who he believed to have been his soulmate before you came into his life. the man would be so touchy with you in private, especially if you did any hobbies of his that he loves — meaning baking of course! he would wrap his arms around your middle and use his hands to help you with anything you need for baking. definitely the type of man to put you on his feet and the pair of you penguin waddle together to put the trays in the oven for whatever you’re baking.

speaking of him being obsessed with your touch … time for a lil bit of nsfw 😈

spike is definitely a switch with a bratty sub lean, i mean literally just look at this vampire. he tries to act like a badass who is known for causing trouble over the years and yet if you play your cards just right you can turn him from a brat into your precious boy, but that takes a while. i tend to headcanon that even though drusilla loved him in the way she did, she never got to have him this way, and spike only trusts you to show this side of him. despite the trust, he will indeed make you work for it like i said previously. but you know how to handle your troublesome boy and how to practically turn him into a puddle with your mere touch overtime.

he’s definitely a mean service dom though when he is in a the dominant state of mind. man loves to torture you and deny your orgasms left and right only for a few turns though and then sends you over the edge quite a few times after that. he turns you into a total mess for his own pleasure but the aftercare is spectacular fr!

his version of aftercare is ; cleaning you up with a towel while smothering you with kisses all over as soon as he wipes down each and every spot upon your body, then he goes and gives you a drink (whether water or your favorite soda or alcoholic drink or maybe a blood bag if you’re a vampire like him — y’alls choice!) before he goes off to fill up a bath with the rainbow colored child bubbles that he found at the store the other day, and then he carries you in there once the bath is all filled. then he goes on to wash your body and hair for you while making sure that you’re genuinely alright with whatever occurred during your time together, then he asks you for whatever you want or need — his beloved flower’s wish is his command that he wishes never ends.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Kiwi

Ship: Zayne x MC/fem!reader

Summary: Zayne knows life has treated him well—very well, when he has you by his side and a baby on the way. But even with all your reassurance and years spent together, Zayne finds himself questioning if he really deserves everything he has...

Word Count: 2,440 words

Warnings: angsty, very domestic, fluff, drabble, reader is pregnant, Zayne's in his head a lot, reader is depicted to like crime shows, use of nicknames "honey" (by Zayne, for reader) and "darling" (by reader, for Zayne), head nuzzles

Notes: Getting through more of Forseer's myth inspired this, so there's the angst element for ya! Written (mostly) before the main story update... The lyrics of the song in this fic belong to Sara by Fleetwood Mac!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Spring was coming to Linkon. Zayne could see it everywhere as he got out of his car and walked to the front door of his house. The snow had all but melted, leaving front yards a mushy, muddy mess. The icicles that had been camped out over the front stoop for at least a month had dripped away into nothing. And the sun was out, golden and warm, making Zayne's winter coat that had been necessary this morning a useless, heavy scrap of fabric draped over his arm now.

Perhaps I'll make her tea, he thought, inserting his key into the lock, and convince her to sit outside while we read today.

You weren't on the sofa as he had expected, though it looked like you had been recently. The TV was on a crime show, its volume low, but music was coming from somewhere inside the house.

"Honey?" he called, sliding his shoes off.

"Kitchen, darling!"

The sound of your voice was a soothing balm to Zayne's tired body. Tension drained from him as he hung up his coat. He padded toward the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, the sound of the music grew a little louder.

Zayne paused where he stood once you came into view in the open floor plan. You stood at the counter, humming to the song on the radio, your hips swaying in time with the music. You were a distance away from the counter, your baby bump in the way.

You hadn't realized he'd neared the kitchen, so Zayne leaned on the wall as he admired you.

There was a glass bowl next to you, cubed green fruit inside of it. You had a peeler in one hand and another kiwi, half-peeled, in the other. You'd broken out one of the spring maternity dresses you'd bought, a soft pink and green in color, flowing around your legs as you swayed in place.

Zayne had always thought you were beautiful—the most beautiful girl in the world, really, which was utterly cliché and perhaps childish, but he didn't care. But, staring at you now, he found himself realizing you had reached a new height of beauty, just standing in your kitchen.

You finished peeling the kiwi, still without noticing him in the doorway. You placed it on the cutting board and cut it. Each and every flick of the knife was precise and somehow gentle, like you were afraid of hurting the cutting board beneath if you pressed too hard.

Ooh, the laces... Undoing the laces.

You swayed as you scooped up the kiwi and put it into a small bowl. You were singing along softly now as you reached for the container of sugar.

Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart—never change, never stop.

Fingers pinched together, you sprinkled a light dusting of sugar onto the kiwi. You dusted off your hands over the cutting board, then moved to the sink with your peeler and knife in hand to wash.

But now it's gone. It doesn't matter what for, but when you build your house, oh, then call me home!

Zayne stepped into the kitchen, heading toward you. You certainly had been calling him home—for years. You'd been an intrinsic part of his life since you were kids, always interested in what he was doing, always there for him when he needed you, even if he didn't know it. More often than not, Zayne thought you knew him better than he knew himself.

Without you noticing, Zayne came up behind you. He put his hands on your hips, kissing your cheek softly. You hummed happily, a smile stretching across your face. You leaned back into him.

"You're home earlier than I expected," you murmured.

Zayne's hands slipped beneath your belly, cradling both you and baby. "I was ahead of schedule today," he said. "And I had no other appointments this afternoon, so I decided to come home rather than be in my office for another two hours." He lifted your bump gently, relieving some of the pressure on your body. You sighed softly, leaning even further back onto his chest.

He settled his chin on your shoulder. You rested your head against his, closing your eyes.

Zayne breathed you in. You smelled of your usual perfume, the beginnings of spring, and the laundry detergent the two of you used. Comfort swept over him, easing its way into his tired muscles. Tension slowly siphoned out of him, his shoulders relaxing.

How had he gotten this lucky? How had he become a man lucky enough to have the woman he loved relaxed in his arms, her very smell easing his body and mind when nothing else could?

He didn't deserve you. He knew he didn't, even if he couldn't really put his fingers on why. Elusive as the feeling was, it was overwhelming at times—enough that Zayne often found himself restless at night, tossing and turning until you woke up and coaxed him back to sleep in your embrace. And while he didn't deserve you, Zayne was a selfish man, keeping you to himself as he was.

You turned your head toward him, kissing his cheek. "I do so love when you come home early," you murmured. Zayne nuzzled into you, burying his head in your neck. You reached up and gently began massaging his scalp with your nails. Zayne let out a sound that was nearly a whimper. "How was work?"

"Good," he whispered. "Two back to back surgeries."

You hummed. "Tiring, then," you said. You had a marvelous way of picking up what he was putting down, knowing what he wanted to say behind what he did say.

That was probably how you'd gotten here in the first place. Years of Zayne biting his tongue when all he wanted to do was beg you to be his. And you'd known. All along, you'd known exactly how he felt about you, how it killed him to stay silent but felt like a fate worse than death to tell you.

Zayne mimicked your hum in answer. He whispered a soft warning before gently releasing his grip on your belly. You exhaled as you took the weight of the baby on your own again.

"Kiwi?" you offered, pushing the bowl toward Zayne. He'd discovered over the past few months that you liked to share your craving snacks almost as much as you liked eating them. And that the pout you gave him if he refused was a death sentence to his heart.

He pushed a few pieces of the kiwi onto a fork.

The smile you gave him as he chewed was enough to melt away the day's stress and tension from his shoulders.

"Sweet enough?" you asked. Zayne nodded. He leaned in, lips brushing against your soft skin—idle for a moment, before he truly kissed your cheek.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Mmm, good," you said. He released you, but kept one hand on your lower back as you picked up your bowl and started for the living room. "Lots of kicking." You patted your belly softly. "I got some cleaning done in our bedroom and I finished putting up the wall decorations in the nursery." You glanced at your husband, already sensing his raised eyebrow. "And I rested. Don't worry, honey."

The two of you settled onto the couch, Zayne reaching over to adjust your pillows and blankets, fussing over you as devotedly as he had since you'd found out you were pregnant.

You rubbed your bump. "They know Daddy's home," you said, wincing through a smile. "Kicking up a storm again."

Zayne's fingers twitched at his side. "May I?" he asked.

You wordlessly grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. The two of you waited and, a moment later, the kicking began anew. A smile twitched at Zayne's lips.

There it was. The life the two of you had created together. His love for you, his need for you—kicking in your belly, demanding to be brought into the world so that it may cry endlessly about how you'd loved each other enough to make something living and real out of it.

"I don't know why you still ask," you murmured as Zayne's hand moved over your bump, following the baby's kicks. "They're your baby just as much."

"It's your body they've made a home in," he reminded you.

You smiled at him, reaching out to pull him closer. You kissed him, soft but not chaste, and Zayne cherished the way you invited him in.

She's mine, Zayne thought as your fingers traced over his jaw. All mine and only mine.

Sometimes he hated it. How possessive he was over you. Had it not been for his need for you, had he not been so obsessed with you, had not pined for you so hard that you saw it and loved him anyway...maybe you'd have a very different life. Maybe you wouldn't be carrying his baby, but another man's, loving someone else.

A dark, disgusted feeling curled through Zayne's heart, icy and dangerous. He hated that thought even more than he hated his possessiveness.

You broke the kiss and rested your head on Zayne's chest, humming contentedly. The serpent curling around his heart loosened its grip.

You were happy with him. You liked your life as it was, here and now. You'd told him time and time again that you were overjoyed to be entering this next chapter together, inviting a little one with open arms.

Zayne wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned the volume up on the television. You hummed, settling in against him, and resumed snacking on your sugared kiwi. He watched you eat, taking the piece you offered straight from your fingertips. You met his eyes as his lips and tongue brushed against your fingers, heat in your gaze.

"Careful," he murmured, his hand moving to your belly. "That look is how we got here in the first place."

"Can't say that I mind," you said, a smile twitching on your lips.

Zayne kissed you again, adjusting to move as close to you as possible on the couch. You giggled into his mouth, then hummed when you realized he intended to linger.

Each kiss was much less reserved than the last, and, for a moment, Zayne wondered why he had ever kept such rigid restraint around you.

A loud bang made both of you jump. You realized first it had come from the television—rapid gunshots at the detectives by their fleeing suspect!—and the two of you laughed softly, pressing your foreheads together.

You rubbed your thumb over Zayne's cheek. "Someone's very affectionate today," you murmured, searching his face. "Everything okay?"

He nodded, nuzzling into your hand. "Let's just say I'm feeling particularly grateful to have you by my side today," he said quietly.

Your face broke into a smile that made Zayne feel a thousand pounds lighter. You cupped his face in both hands and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I love you," you whispered into his skin.

Zayne's throat felt tight. It never felt any less wonderful to hear those words, even though you'd said them countless times. Each and every instance was perfect. "I love you, too," he murmured.

Even if you deserved so much more, you loved him. You wanted him. You'd chosen him, time and time again, and he knew you always would. Even after all the times he'd thought himself unworthy and had tried to take a step back—you stepped with him.

The episode ended with the show's theme song. The credits began to roll.

"Shall we go read on the porch?" Zayne suggested as you turned off the television. He took your now-empty bowl of kiwi and placed it on the coffee table.

"Mmm, that does sound nice," you said. "I might fall asleep, though."

He chuckled. "That's alright," he assured you. He kissed your temple. "I'll be content as long as I'm with you."

Zayne grabbed both your book and his while you gathered up the blanket. The air was still pleasantly warm out on the porch, but the chill would arrive quickly as the sun began to set.

He steadied the porch swing for you, then sat beside you. You got comfortable against him, covering your lower halves with the blanket. He handed you your book and within minutes, you were both deeply engrossed in your novels.

Peace settled over Zayne, the small voice in his head finally quiet, banished by the comfort and familiarity of this routine. If told to pick, this was Zayne's favorite part of the day—coming home to you and existing together, taking personal time but being close should the other need it.

A few chapters went by before you closed your book with a yawn. You settled against Zayne's shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Tired?" he asked.

"No," you lied. "'m fine." You nuzzled against him. "Read to me?"

"Alright," he said, amused, flipping back a page to get to the beginning of the chapter.

Barely ten minutes later, Zayne felt your weight settle more distinctly onto him. Another minute, and your head was slipping a little on his shoulder. You were fast asleep, lulled by the sound of his voice as you had been so many times before.

Zayne adjusted your head and kept reading aloud to you, certain that you would wake with a jolt if he stopped. Just a little more. Just until dinner, and then I'll wake you.

With you asleep on his shoulder, Zayne felt like a teenage boy again, his heart racing with you so close and so vulnerable. He felt, oddly enough, like he had when you'd chosen him for the first time—giddy and boyish and overwhelmingly happy.

He turned and pressed a long, lingering kiss to your temple.

Yes, Zayne was a selfish, selfish man. But he found he didn't care. Not when being selfish meant providing you with a life that kept you happy. Not when he'd fall asleep with you in his arms, baby wiggling around inside you, just about ready to meet the world.

And the voice would come back, likely with the dawn as it often did, telling him he did not deserve you. But it didn't matter now and it would not matter then. It would never matter, with your warmth in his arms, and your love in his heart.

He kissed your temple again. "I love you."

Zayne closed his book and waited for you to stir awake at the loss of his voice, his eyes fixed on the sky, glowing pink with the setting sun.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Love and Deepspace // Zayne

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the L&DS taglist!}

[postmodernbeliever]

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

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you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down. 

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil. 

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other. 

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts. 

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon. 

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it. 

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile. 

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes. 

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!” 

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic. 

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen. 

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive. 

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?” 

“your sink is leaking.” 

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts. 

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them. 

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?” 

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?” 

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer. 

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.” 

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?” 

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine. 

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.” 

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?” 

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath. 

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time. 

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?” 

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured. 

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing. 

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation. 

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away. 

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,��� you whispered, blushing like a fool. 

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.” 

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck. 

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.  

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?” 

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,” 

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,” 

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you? 

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor. 

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.” 

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you. 

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,” 

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job. 

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance. 

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good. 

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life. 

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did. 

“okay, baby, okay.” 

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast. 

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over. 

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life. 

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze. 

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,” 

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once. 

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…” 

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out. 

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?” 

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it. 

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?” 

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss. 

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.” 

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you. 

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked. 

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science. 

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?” 

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered. 

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe. 

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?” 

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.” 

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling. 

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.  

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?” 

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second. 

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.” 

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular. 

“coming back to me, hm?” 

“yeah,” you giggled. 

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.” 

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised. 

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just…  agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

[haliotropes]

Please anything at all Rust x reader would legit heal my soul.

I need Rust with someone who is smart and capable but sweet and loving. PLEASE LET THAT AFFECTION-STARVED MAN GET CUDDLES. 😭😭😭😭

You Know Where You Are

A/N: Rated T ig, fluff for Rust, you are good for him, this will probably be inserted into the long form fic!

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You've slept on less comfortable surfaces than Rust's mattress, though it's thin and the floor is hard and the blanket is scratchy. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters to you but Rust's softening outline each time a car's headlights breached the slats of the blinds over his shoulder. Nothing but the way his breathing is even, soft, never held or heavy. His eyelids, always half-lidded, now seem so because of this rare pocket of peace and not because he's burdened with some horrific scenery.

Speaking of his eyes, they flutter occasionally, like he's trying to stay awake, but all he does it look at you. Which is fair, because all you do is look at him. It's all you do, but what you want more than anything is to follow the carved marble of his face. Your eyes trail from a muscle in his jaw that twitches, to the tendon it connects to, and then way the tendon disappears into his clavicle. And you laugh at your desired softness for him, and your stark nakedness, and the corners of your mouth lift despite exhaustion.

"What is it?" He asks through a small smile of his own, because your joy is sometimes the only thing that can save him from drowning.

"It's just ironic...you don't much like being touched."

He thinks carefully before responding. "Not unprompted, no."

Your hand, from where it rests between you two, flexes involuntarily.

"May I?"

He doesn't respond, but nods his head. Now, he holds his breath. He doesn't think you'll hurt him, far from it, but that your feather light touch on his volatile skin would shatter it. If that happens, you'd only get injured in the blast.

You raise a hesitant hand, one delicate finger out, and start by tracing a thin line from his brow to his cheekbone. From the first moment you met Rust, you yeared to touch this sharpest part of him, wondering if it could cut. It doesn't, of course. He relaxes almost instantly, the lines on his face fall away and he looks nearly ten years younger. He closes his eyes. He sighs.

Your thumb travels from his brow bone to his hairline, where you brush away a stray copper curl that has fallen onto his forehead. The tickling of his long eyelashes on the soft skin of your forearm proves to be too much so you pull away. But he catches your hand- swiftly, but still gently. Slowly, he raises your wrist to his mouth and plants a sort of half kiss there, mostly allowing parted lips to linger over the thin skin. His warm breath spreads in stark contrast to the chill of the night and your skin raises in goosebumps.

You dare. Lay your palm against the hollow of his cheek and stroke under his eye. His hand travels up and down your arm.

"Is this alright?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. His reply is no reply at all, only gentle breathing. When you eventually move again to pull your hand away, he instead moves it to his chest, right over his heart.

He wants to be felt. He needs to be known. Someone needs to look at him and know he's alive, he's human, he's here.

Your elbow grazes his scars. With his other arm, he draws you closer, now touching you with more care than ever before, and like this, you both drift off into a dreamless sleep.

[in-another-april]

summary/prompt + genre - You leave little notes around the apartment for Spencer. He loves them. | fluff

warnings - none

wc - 289

notes - idk what this is oops. inspired by this one pic i saw of his desk on set, i would insert it but tumblr doesn't let me add media for some reason 😔 also pls send reqs i beg

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It starts on one of the first mornings after you’ve moved in together: you have to leave before him and since he gets so few chances to sleep in, you feel too bad to wake him up. You leave a little sticky note on his end table, telling him you’re off to work, you’ll see him for dinner, and that you love him. You notice the note’s absence the next day but don’t think much of it, assuming that it served its purpose, and he tossed it after reading it.

The next time you write one, it serves as a makeshift bookmark after he’s fallen asleep during a late-night reading session. You draw a few silly hearts and doodles on it before sticking it onto the page, even though you know he’ll probably remember exactly where he left off. Just in case, you figure, never passing up an opportunity to do something cute for him.

You pass his desk the next day and the colorful paper stuck to it catches your attention, because what could Dr. Eidetic Memory possibly need post-it note reminders for? It isn’t until further inspection that you realize they’re the notes from you, and you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of lovesick, probably-pathetic-looking goo because oh my god he brought the silly little notes you left him to his workplace so he would see them every day.

When you ask him about it, he bashfully admits he keeps them there to look at and think of you whenever work gets hard, or he's having a bad day (or really, any chance he gets.) So now you’ve made it a point to leave as many notes around for him as possible, all filled with drawings, compliments, and cheesy pick-up lines just to make him smile.