#of course the idiot also has to realize he too is in love

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

Slow-Burn Confession

Summary: a fic that I wrote for the request (see my previous post). In short, both Nanami and reader are IN LOVE but have no idea how to confess and/or act around each other. "A toothrotting fluff" (c) ehehehehehehhehehehe

Characters: Nanami Kento x reader

Word count: 3.3K

Nanami was absolutely fazed.

Throughout the years of working in Jujutsu Tech, the idea of falling in love with someone from the college has never crossed his mind. It’s not that he proclaimed celibacy and followed it: in fact, he had his fair share of hookups. But unlike Gojo or Geto, he never walked around bragging about them, so people naturally thought that romance was completely irrelevant for Nanami Kento.

He thought so too — until you appeared in his life.

He remembered that day all too well: how you stepped in front of everyone, sunlight caught in your hair, and announced that you are a transfer from Kyoto and will be working with Tokyo colleagues from now on. Of course, Gojo was the first to greet you. The white-haired idiot straight up approached you and hooked his arm around your shoulders casually. That’s when Nanami saw it: a small smirk of disapproval and a hint of irritation in your beautiful eyes. Without realizing it, Nanami sighed in relief: Gojo’s charms did not seem to work on you.

Wait, why did he even care?

Since that day, everything has changed for Nanami Kento. He has never been in love, but he became literally obsessed with you — and he was determined to figure his way out through the intricacies of love and to win your heart over.

The thing is… 

He had absolutely zero idea how to do it.

~~~

As you climbed the stairs of college, you were wrapping yourself in a huge knit scarf. The autumn was unusually cold so you required an extra layer of clothes when going to work. Busy untangling the scarf, you didn’t watch your step and bumped into a familiar tall figure.

Nanami’s perfume, an infatuating mix of wood, bergamot and vanilla, hugged you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second and savoring just how perfect this man smelled. And then you lifted your eyes and met the steady gaze of his brown eyes.

His expression was unreadable and even scary. His sharp features and piercing eyes always made you feel smaller and more vulnerable — though you were a Grade 1, thank you very much. Also, you were helplessly in love with this man, and that made the whole situation so much worse.

“Nanami? I doubt he even knows what’s love”, Shoko let out a hearty cigarette puff when you asked her once about Nanami.

“Whaaaaat? This guy only knows work and drinking. Sometimes, cooking. Romance is not for him, babes”, Gojo rolled his eyes and made a face.

“Nanami is a very reliable man but I doubt he is interested in finding a romantic partner”, Geto said sympathetically. 

That was it. Everyone confirmed that Nanami Kento was the worst possible choice to fall in love with. But you just couldn’t help it (and frankly, didn’t want to fix the situation). Every time you managed to steal a glance at him, something hot, unfamiliar, and fuzzy started tossing in your chest. You craved his touch or at least attention — but he was way too scary and unapproachable to even try. And the way he acted around you: it was more than obvious that he saw you just as another colleague. Nothing more than that.

As you met his gaze, you just stood on the stairs, your lips parted slightly and your eyes opened wide in surprise. His expression remained unreadable, but then he jerked his hand suddenly — and you both stared at a rather huge coffee stain on your beige coat.

“Oh”. That’s all you managed to say.

Nanami’s face grew bright red and his expression became somewhat scary. You involuntarily took a tiny step back, as he reached out his hand and tried to grab your coat.

“I… let me fix this”, he mumbled, looking everywhere but in your eyes.

“Do I annoy him so much that he can’t even look at me?”, that was your thought as you just stood there in one place, with his hand clinging onto your sleeve.

“Yo, Nanami! Undressing a girl right in the street? Way to go!”, Gojo’s voice from somewhere behind carried a healthy dose of mockery, and Nanami’s face grew even hotter.

“Shit, shit, shit!”, he thought frantically, still unable to let go your coat. He just wanted to help untangle your stupid huge scarf, but it seemed like his body started acting on its own in your presence. Now he was standing there like an idiot, got your coat dirty and worst of all, made a fool of himself in front of you (and apparently, Gojo).

“Let’s just get inside”, you proposed quietly, trying not to look at his fingers and trying not to imagine how his hand would look on your neck. Or on your waist. Or in your hair. Dammit.

He nodded way too quickly and finally let go of your coat. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning”, he said in a weird voice and started walking without looking at you.

You just sighed and followed him. Seemed like you’d spend another day dreaming about this man finally looking you in the eyes and making the move.

~~~

After the morning incident, Nanami just could. not. focus. He had no idea how to approach you now. He also could not stop thinking about how he almost touched the skin of your wrist when grabbing your coat. The thought sent shivers down his spine and caused pleasant and exciting tingling in his chest.

You just got him in a chokehold.

He spent a few hours deep in thought but did not come up with any plan. As he finally worked up the courage to come to you, he found out that you were already sent on a field trip with the students. And obviously, you took your stained coat with you.

Nanami groaned quietly, returning to his desk. 

Just how on Earth do people confess to each other?!

~~~

When you got to work the next day, you saw a box on your table. The box looked quite presentable: in delicate pastel colors and with simple yet pleasing patterns. There was also something atop of the box: some money and a note that said “for the cleaning”. No signature or something else: just dry information. How Nanami-like.

You were more intrigued by the box though. After quickly shoving the money in the pocket, you opened the cover and an overwhelming and warm smell of cookies filled the room.

There was a whole assortment: chocolate, lemon, and even coffee cookies. Each one of them looked perfect, surely straight out of an expensive bakery.

“Woah, cookies? Who’d get you these?”, Gojo appeared out of nowhere, trying to reach for the box. You immediately closed the cover shut, preventing the heist attempt.

“I don’t know”, you lied, knowing damn well Kento got these for you. “But I need to find out what bakery they are from. I haven’t seen any sweet looking so ridiculously good”.

Nanami who just happened to pass your desk, perked his ears at your words immediately. You caught his gaze and smiled warmly, “Um, thanks for… everything. Where did you get these cookies from? I might become a regular customer”.

He opened his mouth and shut it immediately. “Then you’ll have to move in with me”, were the words he wanted to say but never in his life he’d admit that he spent the whole night backing these cookies for you. He’d also never admit that he imagined feeding you with a cookie, collecting crumbs from your lips with his own lips and covering your mouth in a sweet deep kiss while leaning you onto his kitchen counter…

“Shit!”

Kento shook his head in irritation and glared at you, involuntarily allowing you to catch this slight hint of his annoyance. He didn’t think you’d take it personally: he was mad at himself for being so sappy around you. But you couldn’t have known it, obviously. So instead of admitting his feelings, he just mumbled something and paced away, his usual composure and confidence radiating while his head was a wild mess of emotions and thoughts. 

And while you watched him go, your heart aching in an unusual manner, Gojo managed to steal a cookie and laughed diabolically, shoving the whole stuff in his mouth.

“Dat stuff’s good”, he mumbled. “Tastes like homemade ones”.

“Homemade? Nah, can’t be true. Kento would never…”, you thought, wishing desperately for these cookies to really be homemade ones. 

With a sigh, you took one and tasted it. As expected, it was out of this world.

Just like damned Nanami Kento.

~~~

Since then, you haven’t seen him around for almost a week. While your eyes were desperately searching for him in the crowd, Kento was nowhere to be found. Finally, you went straight up to Shoko who never made fun of you and was as supportive as possible for a person who spent a couple of years with Gojo and Geto.

“Oh, Kento is home, recovering from an injury after the mission. No biggie”, Shoko just casually dropped, 

An injury, huh?

“It’s now or never”, you said to yourself while taking a taxi after work and carrying a box of sweets in your lap. “After all, I can visit a colleague and check up on him. Right?”

The taxi driver caught your gaze in the rear mirror and grinned, as if reading your thoughts. Your cheeks grew hot and you looked in the window, trying to focus on anything but the thoughts in your head.

~~~

The sound of the doorbell was unexpected, to say at least. Nanami heard it while lying in bed, reading a book and trying to distract himself from the annoying pain in his shoulder. The wound hurt like hell for the first couple days but it got much better. Still, Shoko insisted he’d stay at home and even Yaga chimed in, basically forcing Nanami to take a few more days off.

When hearing the doorbell, he raised a brow in surprise and reluctantly got out of bed. At first, he thought of putting on something more presentable than a pair of grey sweatpants and a blue shirt, but honestly, the illness got the best of him and he decided he didn’t really care. It was probably a delivery he forgot about, so his home clothing was more than enough to deal with another overly enthusiastic teenager with a pizza box.

The door swung open and he froze in place.

“You?!”

As he opened the door and you met his direct gaze, you felt pinned to the ground. The sight of Nanami in his sweatpants and loose shirt stirred something primal and uncontrollable in you. You gulped loudly and felt your face growing insanely hot.

“I erm… I wanted to check up on you..”

As you spoke, you took an awkward step forward and obviously stumbled. He instinctively caught you, his strong arms wrapping around you and instantly flaring up a wildfire in his chest. He was about to say something…. but then he looked down.

“Oh”.

A box of sweets that you’ve been holding was smashed between you two, cream and jam all over his shirt and your much-suffering coat. Your face grew bright red and you tried to pull away but his hands were holding you in one place firmly, not letting you move even an inch. Only after a few moments, he lifted one hand slowly, delicately putting his fingers on your cheek and wiping cream off it. Holding your gaze, he put his fingers to his lips and licked the cream carefully, a tiny smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“Vanilla, huh, Good choice”, he said expertly, still holding you.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked in a tiny voice, kind of traumatized by your close proximity. His body was so insanely hot in all senses and the way his was holding you… 

You shifted a bit and suddenly felt it. Your eyes darted a glance below and he immediately released you, taking a step back.

“Much better now, thanks”, he couched, quickly turning around and gesturing for you to come in. “Did you come for anything specific or?...”

You instantly scolded yourself for the visit. Of course he wouldnt’ have expected you: he probably didn’t even think of you.

“I just wanted to check on you”, you mumbled in a weak voice, pulling away slowly. “Shoko told me you were injured”.

“It’s nothing”, he echoed, his eyes basically glued to you. “Wanna come in?”

Even if the Earth stopped spinning in space you’d be less surprised. “Come in like… in your house?”

In his head, Nanami groaned. Why did he even think you’d like to come in? You probably just stopped by with this stupid box. It was probably Shoko’s idea after all. Like he had any chance for your attention…

“If you don’t want to, it’s…”

“No, I want”, you stepped in confidently, leaving the remains of sweets on the ground in front of the porch (“will throw it away on my way back”).

Nanami’s brows raised in a mix of surprise and relief. You wanted to come in, that was good. Meaning his presence may even be pleasant for you. That’a s good start, right?

As you stepped in, you looked around, studying his place. As expected, it was neat yet surprisingly cozy. All his belongings basically radiated Nanami’s aura of peace and comfort. You spotted hell lots of books, a few candles here and there, and several intricate works of art on the walls. Overall, it felt oddly like… home.

Behind your back, Nanami coughed. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please”, you turned around, and he couldn’t help but flicker in awe. You looked so natural in his apartment. As if you lived here with him for a few years to say at least. He desperately wanted to come close to you and kiss you but instead, turned and headed for the kitchen, cursing himself for looking so unpresentable.

As you watched him go, you felt your face going red again. Kento’s loose shirt and sweatpants showed off his perfect physique of a damn Greek God. And if before that evening you were mostly interested in him as a person, now you simply felt like a feral monster who hadn’t seen a man in forever. You whimpered quietly and followed him to the kitchen, having absolutely no idea what to do or how to act.

From his part, Nanami also had absolutely fucking no idea what to do next. The very thought of you being in his house this late at night — that was something Kento had never expected. Yet, here you were, following him to his kitchen and looking too damn cute with your hair fuzzy from the wind outside and with this hint of pink on your cheeks. More than everything he’d love to pull you close and never let go but went to the coffee machine instead. After all, he promised you some.

“I like your place”, you finally said, breaking the silence. “It’s very… cozy”. 

He hummed in agreement, busy with the coffee and the cups. “Thanks. It took me quite some time to arrange everything to my liking, sugar”.

You blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

Kento looked back at you, his face going red. He picked up a sugar bowl from the counter and repeated, “Would you like some sugar?”

“Oh my god, I’m so dumb”, you muttered. “Two, please”.

He pretended not to hear what you just said but noticed the way you reacted to his words.

“Could it be?...”

All events and the tension of the past few months since you met just exploded in his brain, pushing him to the limit of self-control. At that very point, Nanami Kento gave in to the reckless abandon and decided to test the waters. 

“Fuck it”.

He handed you the coffee cup, his fingers obviously brushing against yours. As you savored this faint touch, you looked up and met his direct and piercing gaze. It wasn’t the gaze that you were used to see. It was something brand new. Something both alluring and frightening. Something that made your knees weak.

Kento took a small step towards you, his mind going blank. The world around suddenly stopped existing and he didn’t give a shit about anything right now. His eyes were locked on your face, and he took another small step forward. And another.

As he approached, you just stood frozen in one place, completely dumbfounded. Nanami Kento, the infamous stoic sorcerer with no love life (according to the colleagues), was coming up to you in his damned grey sweatpants, looking like he was about to devour you whole. You wanted to say something, ask him what’s going on or simply object against such straightforwardness — and then you felt the tight grip of his hand in your hair as he pulled you close till your lips crashed in his.

With one hand locked on your hair, his other hand gripped your waist, moulding your body into his. He kissed you so hungrily as if he had been hiding that starvation for too long and now, finally, he had you in his arms. Your hands shot up, one arm around his neck and the other tangled securely in his blonde locks. As his tongue was exploring your mouth deeply and hungrily, you let out a soft gasp, his name rolling off your tongue like a prayer.

“Kento…”

He pulled back a bit, lips swollen and eyes glowing with a dangerous gleam.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You gulped nervously and finally asked the question that’s been haunting you for all this time.

“So can I… assume you like me too?’’

You expected anything, honestly. That he’d frown and say something like “it’s too early to discuss things like that”. Or that he’d say he was interested in sex only. 

Instead, Nanami laughed.

He laughed openly, his eyes now full of weird happiness. You were completely taken aback by his reaction, but he didn’t give you an opportunity to pull away. Keeping you in one place with his arms, he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, grinning against your skin.

“I don’t like you. I love you, sweetheart”, he muttered in rasped voice. “I love you so fucking much, you have no idea”.

And that was it. His words broke through the dam and you giggled too, following his laughter. It was the laugh of relief, of finally letting go of all the tension and uncertainty between you two. Still laughing softly, he scooped you up and headed for his bedroom in long confident stride, shaking his head in amusement.

“Kento”, you called him quietly, still not quite believing it was happening and resting your head against his chest as he walked.

“Hmmm?”, he looked down on you, a smile curving his lips.

“Can you… put a tie on?”

He let out a bark of laughter and nodded, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Your wish is my command, love. But be prepared that this tie is gonna move from my neck to your pretty wrists in no time”.

Nanami looked you in the eyes, his gaze full of adoration and love. And that was the moment you knew.

“I’m stuck with you, huh?”, you asked softly with a smile.

“Forever, sweetheart”, he confifmed, kissing your hair and laying you on the bed gently. “Now gimme a second to put on the damn tie and I’m all yours”.

You giggled happily at his words, watching him rummaging the closet. 

Everything was just perfect.

And in about one minute after the tie was found, perfect became even better. Side note: you never knew you could be that loud.

[spencerrscardigans]

𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: “one day, i will stop falling in love with you / some day, someone will like me like i like you / until then, i’ll drink my coffee, eat my pie”

includes: best friends to lovers, no use of y/n, you work at family video with steve and robin, idiots to lovers, pining, angst, reader is emotional, emetophobia warning (2 mentions but no actual), fluff, robin buckley is a meddler, song inspired fic but i added a happy ending

a/n: this is the first ever oneshot that I have actually finished and am posting! yay me! I also totally didn't write this instead of doing my bio homework. this is barely edited and probably horrible but give me some grace because this is my first time writing one of these

word count: 5000

⊹₊⟡⋆

You were sure that the coffee and cherrie pie from the bakery down the street was the sole reason for getting you through your shifts at family video.

Sure, it helped that you shared most of your shifts with your two best friends, Steve and Robin, but the fact that you were hopelessly in love with one of said best friends seemed to get in the way of enjoying your shifts with them.

Robin helped make it more tolerable, however her looks of pity sent your way whenever a pretty girl came in to flirt with Steve just made it blatantly obvious how pathetic your feelings for him were.

Being one of Steve’s best friends also meant that you had to listen to every nauseating detail of his conquests with these women, making your inadequacy feel even stronger.

The bell on the door chimed, signalling that a customer had entered the store, and looking over you saw a pretty blonde around your age walk in.

You don’t bother to get up, knowing that Steve will be there to greet her before you can even stand up.

As predicted, Steve jumps up, stumbling over his feet to greet the girl. You sigh, and reach into your paper bag to grab your boxed slice of cherry pie which frankly has turned into a comfort food for situations like this.

Seemingly moving on their own accord, your eyes look up to see Steve leaning on the counter with a sly smile on his face, and you know that your feelings for him were futile.

“You know that Steve’s just an idiot, right? He has feelings for you, he’s just too blind to see what’s right in front of him.” Robin says once Steve is out of earshot.

“Or,” you start, dragging the word out, “there’s nothing for him to see. He doesn’t care like i do, he doesn’t like me like i like him. It’s okay, i’ve made my peace with it.”

Robin glances over her shoulder once more, and when she’s sure that Steve is distracted she grabs your shoulders, “he likes you!” she exclaims.

“He’s just too stupid to realize. Just tell him how you feel! I know society thinks that’s men’s job but frankly I think that’s sexist, and Steve’s too stupid to do it himself. All this pining would be over if you’d just tell him how you feel!” she says while shaking your shoulders to emphasize her point

“Rob, it’s never going to happen.” you shake your head at her.

Before Robin can argue back, the topic of your conversation starts walking towards you both, grinning while waving his hand in the air, and you make out messy numbers scribbled with ink on his skin.

The second Steve opens his mouth, you figure it would be in your best interest to tune it out, and you turn back to your pie as if it’s suddenly the most enticing thing in the room.

You let yourself enjoy your pie, and for a minute, let yourself pretend that you and Steve are more than friends, and that the sick feeling coursing through you is simply because of the coffee and pie and not heartbreak.

The bell chimes, indicating a customer has entered the store, and this time it’s your turn to jump up.

“I’ve got this one” you say, glad you have an excuse to get away from the conversation.

You hurriedly walk up to the counter, and you see a boy, about your age, scanning his eyes around the store.

“You need help finding anything?” You ask, mustering up a friendly smile.

“I’m lookin’ for something scary. Do you have Poltergeist? Or anything similar.” He asks.

“Over there,” you say pointing. “Do you want me to get it for you?” you ask.

“I think i’ve got it from here,” he says with a smile, glancing down at your name tag and reading it aloud.

You watch as he retreats, before finally stopping to scan through the movies. After a few seconds he reaches up, plucks the movie off the shelf and is making his way back up to the counter.

“Have you found everything you’re looking for?” You ask in your trained customer service voice.

He nods, before asking “So, have you seen this one? Is it any good?”

You respond, and soon enough find yourself too distracted by the conversation with the boy to notice the very familiar interaction that you had just previously had going on between your coworkers.

“You’re jealous!” Robin gasps.

“Shhhh!” Steve says, covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut up!”

“Ew,” Robin says, shoving his hand off her “You didn’t deny it!” She sing songs.

“I’m not jealous, i just think it’s inappropriate for customers to be flirting with the employees” He says defensively, eyeing the way the boys eyes light up with interest at whatever you’re saying, leaning over the counter slightly.

His comment receives a deadpanned look from Robin, “Dude, look at your hand. You literally were just bragging about how you scored that ‘totally hot girl’s’ number.”

Steve opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, but after failing to come up with something to say, he closes his mouth in defeat.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, “Okay, fuck, maybe I am.”

“Hah! I knew it.” Robin says smugly. “So,” she says, dragging out the ‘o’ “When are you gonna do something about it?”

“I can’t-“ he starts “I don’t know!” he exclaims.

“Let me guess,” she starts. “You’re going to call that girl tonight like an idiot and pretend like you’re not totally in love with someone else?”

“It’s been working so far.” he shrugs, and robin squints her eyes at him.

“Is it though? Is it?” she accuses, and Steve suddenly feels small under her stare.

“Just tell her, you dingus!” Too distracted, neither Steve or Robin notice that you’re back until your voice breaks them out of their argument.

“Tell who what?” you ask, and Steve and Robin both look at each other nervously, leaving you confused.

“She, uh, was giving me pointers for when I ask that hot blonde out.” Steve says, and you shudder.

“You’re such a boy.” You motion with your hand for Steve to move off the stool you were previously sitting on, and when he complies, you sit back down and take a sip of your coffee.

You make a face at the change of temperature of your coffee, and Steve laughs. “Gone cold?” he muses.

You shut him up with a glare, and the three of you go back into a comfortable silence as you stare at the clock, waiting for your shift to end.

After what feels like an eternity, the three of you start closing the store once your shift ends, and you plop down into the drivers seat of your car with a groan.

You start driving, and you hope that the soft music and pretty sunset is enough to bring you out of your spiral of thoughts, but when a familiar song comes on, a song that Steve showed you, you start to think that you’re cursed.

The song brings you back to the moment where you were sitting in the passenger seat of Steve’s beemer, your legs up on the dashboard despite Steve’s scolding that it’s ‘dangerous’, to which you would reply ‘whatever, mom”.

The sun was setting in the sky, similar to how it is now, you and Steve taking turns sharing music after arguing over what to listen to, Steve claiming that he had the better music taste, to which you would argue back that yours is better. After going back and forth, you ended up with a compromise of taking turns picking the music.

You remember that night vividly, because that was the night you caught the first glimmer of hope that maybe he liked you like you liked him. It was also the night where that hope was crushed just as quickly as it came.

You had caught him staring, but too distressed at what that could possibly mean you pretended you didn’t notice. You spent the rest of the night going over and over in your head of what that look possibly could have meant, driving yourself crazy to the point where Steve noticed that there was something wrong.

Steve stopped, mid sentence when he noticed that far away, troubled look in your eyes once again.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, seemingly bringing you out of your daze.

“Hm?”

“I said, what’s going on in that head of yours? I don’t think you’ve registered a single word of that story I was just telling you.” he says, with a slight laugh.

“Feels like i’m talking to a wall.” he teases, however you catch the glint of worry.

For a minute, you thought about telling him. You thought about spilling every thought that had been plaguing your mind since you realized that you were in love with him a few weeks back. You wanted to tell him you loved him. That you were in love with him.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words seem to catch in your throat, and tears start streaming down your face instead.

Not to sound dramatic, but Steve thought he could feel his heart breaking in his chest watching you, his best friend, breaking down beside him in his car. He wished he could wave a magic wand and take away all your hurt. Hell, he would even take all the hurt on himself if it meant he got to see you smile.

“What’s going on?” he asked you, “You know you’re my best friend, you can tell me anything.”

Steve hoped his words would reassure you, but instead you just sobbed harder.

You shook your head, and Steve figured that was you saying you didn’t want to talk about it, and he was right, partially, he just didn’t realize that it wasn’t just you not wanting to talk about it. He didn’t realize that the real reason you were shaking your head was because you didn’t want to be his best friend. You loved him, but not how best friends typically loved each other. You were in love with him.

You realized then, that that was all you would be. His best friend. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship, and you knew that if you told him how you felt, you definitely would, so you decided that it would be in everyone’s best interest to never let him find out.

Little did you know, those same fears swirled around in your best friend’s head as well.

“M’sorry, I promise I don’t mean to cry.” you tell him. “I’m just, i’m overwhelmed and confused.”

Steve caught the look that you were giving him, your pleading eyes begging him to not ask you what you were overwhelmed and confused by. As badly as he wanted to ask, he remembered all the times that you were there for him no questions asked, and he knew that as your best friend, that he owed you the same respect.

He settled with holding you in his arms while you cried into his chest. He whispered soft, reassuring words, not knowing that he was the reason you needed them.

Later that week, you’re sat by the counter, once again eating your pie, wondering whether your shift could go by any slower.

This time, it was just you and Steve sharing your shift, and at first it made you nervous knowing that Robin wouldn’t be there and you’d be left alone with Steve and your feelings for him, but it had been surprisingly going pretty well.

You noticed that Steve seemed tense as well, but after him brushing your questioning eye off, you decided not to bother him about it.

“What did that pie do to you?” Steve teases, noting the way you are stabbing your fork into the pie as if you have some vendetta against it.

“I’m bored.” you groan, dragging the word out. “I miss Robin.”

Steve brings his hand up to his chest, acting as though he was wounded. “Am I not enough for you?"

When you bark out a laugh, the corner of his lips twitch up into a smile as he gazes at you with a fond look that makes you feel like you’re about to vomit. Not out of disgust, but from the overwhelming feelings that he makes you feel. Vomiting is about the most accurate way to describe how it makes you feel, and you try not to imagine the look you’d receive from Robin if she heard that.

The door chimes, and with Steve being closer, he gets up to greet the customer. Just as he’s getting ready to ask how he can help, he pauses when he realizes that it’s the same guy who was in the store flirting with you the other day.

He clenches his jaw, remembering yours and Robins scolding that he needed to be better with his customer service, and grits out “Welcome to Family Video, how can I help?”

Just to Steve’s surprise, more like disappointment, the customer tells him that he was actually hoping to speak to you.

Hearing your name, you look up and smile when you see Matt, the customer from the other day. You get up and walk towards them, turning to Steve to tell him that you’ve got it from here. He begrudgingly leaves, but still stays in earshot.

“I’m just here to return this.” Matt says, setting the movie on the desk. You pick it up, and begin scanning it and clicking buttons on the computer.

“How’d you like it? You owe me that review you promised.”

“Well, i’ve actually spent the past couple days trying to think of the best way to tell you my thoughts, and I thought maybe we could discuss it over coffee?” he says, eyes hopeful.

You’re taken aback for a minute, struggling to remember the last time someone asked you out, and then wondering whether he meant as a date, or just as friends, but before you can think of something to say, Matt speaks again.

“I hope i’m not coming on to foreword or reading this wrong, I just think that you’re gorgeous and would love to take you on a date.” he sends you a shy smile.

“I, yeah, i’d like that.” you manage to sputter out, sharing Matt’s same shy smile. “I’m off tomorrow, but I work the rest of the week.” you tell him.

“How about noon? We could go to the cafe down the street if you’d like. Or anywhere else.”

“The cafe works. I’ll see you then.” You tell him, feeling giddy as a smile graces your face as you finish running through his return. Matt matches your smile, and waves before making his way out of the store.

You watch as he walks out the door and out of eyesight, and do a little happy dance, ignoring the fact that Steve is going to definitely make fun of you.

For a minute, the hopeless feeling that had settled over you because of Steve’s unshared feelings is forgotten, and you think that maybe won’t be as hard to get over him as you thought. Maybe you will find someone who likes you how you like Steve, and you’ll be able to stop falling for him.

“I thought you didn’t go on dates.” Steve says once you turn around, and the smile quickly falling off your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seeing the hurt look on your face, Steve quickly clarifies.

“You just always say that you’re more content staying single. That dating just causes unnecessary stress that you don’t have to have when you’re single.”

“I don’t know, I just changed my mind I guess.” you say, and Steve raises an eyebrow at you.

“What made you change your mind?” he questions.

“Why does it have to matter?” you say. “It just felt nice to have someone be interested in me.”

Steve accepts your answer, and you both continue to work in silence. You wonder why Steve doesn’t seem as happy for you as you expected, and it sends a pang through your chest.

The next day comes around fast, and after spending about an hour debating what to wear, noon finally comes around and you nervously step foot inside the cafe, despite the amount of times you’ve been here.

You glance around, and you spot Matt already sitting down at a table. You shyly walk over to him, suddenly uncomfortably aware of everything you do.

After the initial nervousness settles down and you both have ordered, conversation starts flowing easily, and you find that you and Matt have a lot more in common than you originally expected.

You feel comfortable around him, and after learning more and more about each other, you find yourselves talking to each other like you’ve known each other for years.

You like Matt, you really do, but despite how much you like him and how well you guys are getting on, a nagging feeling won’t leave you alone.

You know it’s wrong, but as you tell Matt about yourself, you can’t help but think about Steve, and how he already knows all this about you. Honestly, you think Steve knows more about you than you do.

Internally, you start connecting everything to Steve, and this realization suddenly starts making you feel both guilty and uncomfortable.

As the date starts to wrap itself up, you realize you need to be honest with him. Getting over Steve is apparent to be way more difficult than you anticipated, and you know it’s unfair to string Matt along when your heart is elsewhere.

You decide to just be upfront with him, telling him exactly as such, and Matt’s reaction is the exact opposite to what you expected.

He doesn’t seem upset, he just simply looks at you with understanding, and if anything, it makes you feel even more guilty.

“It’s okay, i’m just glad you were able to realize this and be upfront with me now. The heart wants what it wants, and I can’t blame you for that.” he tells you.

“I just feel so bad, I really thought i’d be able to do this, and I do really like you, but I just can’t.” you sigh, feeling disappointed in yourself.

“It’s that coworker of yours, right?” he asks, leaving you shocked.

“How did-“ you start to say, looking at him with bewilderment.

“I noticed how he looked at you when I came by the store, both times, I thought there might be something there but was just hoping I was wrong.” he tells you, and it just leaves you more confused.

He doesn’t look at you in any way, does he? Seemingly noticing your distress at this new information, Matt continues on.

“He looked like he was ready to have me banned from the store,” he says with a laugh. “it’s clear as day that he has feelings for you, and you feel the same way, so just tell him.” you continue looking at him with bewilderment, but this time for a different reason.

“This was not the direction I was expecting this to go in.” You say with a breathy laugh.

“I know, believe me,” he says with a laugh, “I know this is definitely not how either of us expected this to end up, but I still would like to at least be your friend. How does that sound to you?”

“I would like to be your friend as well, I meant what I said, I do really like you, I just feel really bad about this whole situation.” you tell him nervously.

“Don’t, I meant what I said as well, the heart wants what it wants. So, friends?” he says, offering you his hand for a handshake, and you laugh. You take his hand, and shake it.

“Friends sounds good.” you say with a smile.

“Now that we’re friends, i’m telling you this as a friend, tell him how you feel.” he says sternly.

“God, you sound like Robin. Don’t make me regret agreeing to be friends.” you say lightheartedly.

You both say your goodbyes, telling him that now that he has friend privileges you can snag him any good movies coming in that he requests, and he promises to stop by the store sometime soon.

Driving home, you start to feel a sense of clarity come over you. You think that maybe telling Steve isn’t a bad idea, Matt only saw Steve twice and could say with confidence that Steve had feelings for you, maybe he was right?

But what if he was wrong? What if Matt was wrong and you make a fool out of yourself and ruin your friendship?

You realize that your friendship would be ruined either way, because thinking about it, you don’t know if you have it in you anymore to keep having your heart broken. You either tell him, and risk him not feeling the same way and ruining your friendship, or not telling him and end up definitely ruining your friendship because you can’t handle just being his friend.

If you’re going to lose him either way, you figure you might as well just tell him. Now you really feel like you’re going to throw up.

The next day, you work the closing shift with once again just Steve, and the entire time leading up to it all you feel is dread. You even consider calling in sick and asking Robin to cover for you, but you push through it and find yourself walking through the staff doors, getting ready to start your shift.

You and Steve start working as you usually would, closing shift on Thursday's always being quiet, him making his regular comments and you once again sitting on your stool drinking your coffee and eating your pie.

Despite Steve being your best friend and you both having worked together without Robin many times, you both feel the uncomfortable shift in the air.

“How’d your, uh, date go?” Steve asks, internally cursing himself out.

“It went good.” you say, sounding unsure. Steve raises an eyebrow at you in question, and you clarify.

“It went good,” you say, sounding more sure of yourself. “We had a surprising amount of things in common, and the conversation came really easily. Honestly for a moment it felt like we had known each other for years.” you tell him with a smile on your face as you think back at yesterday.

“Oh, that’s- that’s good. You’ll probably be going out with him again?” Steve asks, and it may be you going crazy, or did he sound disappointed? Is it bad that that makes you feel happy?

“Yeah, we will, I think. Not on another date, though.” you tell him, paying close attention to how Steve reacts. When he keeps a calm composure, just looking confused, you think that maybe you were just crazy.

“We decided that we’d be better as friends.” you clarify.

“Oh, how come? You seem to really like him.” he asks, and you think that this might be your opportunity to tell him how you feel. You pause for a minute, trying to think of the best way to word what you are going to say next.

“I realized that my hearts," you pause, "elsewhere? I do really like him but I didn’t think it would be fair to string him along if I wasn’t fully in it.” you tell him carefully.

“Elsewhere? Like you have feelings for someone?” you nod.

“Why’d you agree to go out with him if you have feelings for someone else?”

“I don’t know, he seemed like a really good guy and I thought maybe i’d be able to get over my feelings but I was wrong.” you tell him, shamefully.

“It was nice having someone be interested in me." you begin to explain, "I figured since the person that I want to be won’t ever be interested in me, maybe it was time to move on. And it felt nice. Being in love with someone who only sees you as a friend sucks and for a minute I was able to forget about it. I don’t want to keep letting him break my heart again.” you explain.

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you as if you’re some difficult math question, and you feel yourself shrinking under his gaze.

“Who are you in love with?” he finally asks.

You open your mouth to respond, and once again, just like the time you were sat beside him in his car, you're unable to get any words out, and a tear slowly falls down your cheek instead.

You went over this conversation many times in your head, preparing how you were going to tell him, but now that it was happening, it all went right out the window.

Steve steps closer to you, and wipes the tear from your cheek, and the action makes you want to cry harder but you force yourself to keep your composure. You tell yourself all you have to do is get this over with, and then you can cry as much as you want.

“How do you know that he isn’t in love with you too? What makes you so certain?” Steve asks, figuring his first question was too difficult for you to answer.

“He flirts with other girls all the time. And I get friend zoned practically on a daily basis.” You manage to mumble.

“How do you know he isn’t doing what you were trying to do by going on that date? What if he thinks that you don’t like him back, and that’s why he does that?” Steve asks, and you wonder whether there’s more to what he’s asking. You chalk it up to him just wanting to make you feel better, and sigh.

“I don’t know whether this is just Robin getting to my head, but is the guy me?” Steve finally asks.

Your silence is enough of an answer, but then you finally nod your head in confirmation. “It’s okay though, one day I will stop falling in love with you and we can pretend this never happened, some day I’ll find someone who likes me like I like you and we can go back to normal.”

You honestly think at this point you’re more trying to reassure yourself than you are Steve. You reason that he’s the one who made you fall in love with him, so you’re allowed to try to reassure yourself.

“What if I don’t want you to?” he says, and your eyes go wide, thinking that he has to be messing with you.

“What if I don’t want you to stop falling in love with me? What if I don’t want to pretend like this never happened? What if I don’t want you to find someone else? Because you won’t need to, because I do like you like you like me.” he continues, and you shake your head, not believing him.

“Look at me.” he commands softly. Instead of doing what he asks, you stubbornly close your eyes and face your head down, scared to look at him. Scared that if you look at him you’ll see that he was joking and you’ll be stuck feeling humiliated.

Steve gently brings his hand under your chin and lifts it up so your head is facing him, but you refuse to open your eyes. When you hear him let out a little laugh, you feel glad that you didn’t look, fearing the worst.

“Hey, look at me, please.” he says, and his begging tone is what makes you finally peak your eyes open.

Steve’s close, closer than you realized, and his eyes are looking right into yours, and you don’t see any mocking or teasing looks in his eyes like you expected.

His eyes leave yours, slowly traveling down to your lips. “I can prove it to you if you don’t believe me.”

He looks back up at you, silently asking for permission, and all you’re able to say is a breathless “okay.”

He grins, and slowly leans in, allowing you time to change your mind, and when you don’t, he finally presses his lips against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed, and his hand that was under your chin comes up to softly cup your jaw, and suddenly all you feel is him.

At this point, the tears that you had trying so hard to hold in finally stream down your face, however this time for an entirely different reason. All the love that you had been suppressing down was finally released, the emotion pouring out of you as you kissed.

Steve pulls away, noticing your tears, and his eyes widen in a panic. When you respond with a laugh, he calms down and wipes your tears.

“I knew it,” he starts. “you do taste like coffee and pie.”

You’re both grinning, and he leans down and kisses you again. If you thought the first kiss was a lot, this one nearly knocks you off your feet with the force of passion that he kisses you with.

His hands move down to your waist, pulling you even closer and you let out a squeak of surprise. Your hands move on their own accord to grip at his collar, and the groan he lets out is nearly enough to make you faint.

This time you’re the one to pull away, feeling like you’re about to run out of air, and you both are left flushed and breathing heavily.

The bell on the door chimes, bringing you both out of your daze. Steve sighs and sets off to greet the customer, with a promise that this will be continued later, both of you with a giddy feeling you didn’t have at the start of your shift.

[lunarriviera]

hi hey hello i have started watching a new crime drama and I AM OBSESSED. it's called 雪迷宫 or, for some reason, The First Shot, although it should be more properly Snow Maze. it's a period piece set in 1997 and it's produced by ZHANG YIMOU which must be why the production values are actually good??? anyway i am here to tell you all about it and why you should be watching it okay here we go

first of all there's a big hot dumb cop, zheng bei. yes that's huang jingyu and you might not like him because of his apparently quite sketchy personal life but all i care about in this case is that he's tall, and thoughtful, and a police captain who's protective of his people and a little bit of an idiot. my catnip tbh. (i guess he was in addicted too? somehow breaking the you-can-only-be-in-one-BL rule?)

(ETA that by "dumb" of course he's not dumb at all, only by comparison; cf. my own stupid meta on this fascinating topic)

then there's an effete genius consultant, gu yiran (wang ziqi), who knows everything there is to know about drugs. he comes from the south to help these ignorant northerners form an anti-narcotics unit. he's such a massive nerd, the team doesn't like him until they realize that he runs 10k every morning and can outrun motorcycles and is actually quite useful. then suddenly it's no longer "gu-laoshi" but is all "ran-ge" this and "ran-ge" that. he can't dance for shit. i adore him.

there's a superb seven-samurai style Assembling The Team sequence in which this cop is brought in as the muscle. Her nickname is mad dog yao and she kicks the ass of an entire club at one point. we love her. her only problem is that, not unlike zhang haixing in tibetan sea flower, she will in fact fight a wall. here's gu yiran's face after a drug dealer mistakenly underestimates her and she stomps on him.

one of my favorite things about this drama so far is how poor the police are. it's 1997 in a dinky northern precinct and these cops ain't got shit. no computers. rudimentary cellphones. barely any forenic analysis, and most of that is on pieces of paper. no bullpen. no interrogation rooms. they have to interview suspects at their desks.

captain zheng is so underpaid he can't even afford a real pointer for his situation board, he has to go outside and get a literal stick.

drives his dad's chicken delivery van. has to slam himself against the front door to open it. everything about this is absolutely perfect.

i'm only on episode 7 but this shit is already brotastic. please behold:

yes that is an actual line from the show. yes gu yiran has to live with captain zheng, they can't afford fancy accommodations for him. turns out there's a trundle bed made out of paper clips but that's okay, they still get plenty of cosy domestic time together.

and that's also what i already love about this drama—in spite of being about anti-narcotics, it's also very slice of life, very daily city life, with meals and neighbors and friends and family and did i mention food, there is so much eating in this drama. it's gorgeous. also i'm improving my colloquial chinese by leaps and bounds.

of course you are you stupid service top, now take care of the baby.

and those are just some of the reasons why you should be watching the first shot, which is funny and suspenseful and unexpectedly brainy and well-cast and has beautiful opening credits. there are 19 episodes on youku's youtube channel right now and the subs are shockingly high quality. i'm hooked, and also so mad at my day job because i can't just binge it, pls join me in this handbasket

[maybeamiles]

literally begging my OC's to just kiss already. One of them keeps describing how much he's in love with the other and the other is like, "oh wow, he sounds like a lucky guy" THE GUY IS YOU. YOU ARE THE ONE HE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU DUMBASS.

[yamsfrecklvs]

tits, ass or thighs?

ft. kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, tsukishima, atsumu, osamu

warnings: i mean... the title speaks for itself i think! implied fem reader ; also not proofread

MDNI!!!

☆ kuroo : tetsuro is a simple man. there isn't a single thing he doesn't like about you. but the man absolutely adores thighs. put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt and he'll fall to his knees. to be fair, he's a man of taste, so not only does he love thighs, but he's also a sucker for ass. can and will smack it whenever he can, not even in a strictly sexual way, but simply because he likes having his hands on you. ass and thighs will absolutely be used as a pillow, there's no debating it. he will also not so sneakily squeeze your thigh while sitting down or grip it while he’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat. hell, he’d die between your thighs if he could, because let me remind you, this man is an EATER. (just leaving this here)

☆ iwaizumi : i mean, have you seen him? ass. he physically cannot function if he sees you in tight skirts or pants and his hand can always be found in your back pocket if you two are walking together. definitely lightly smacks your butt to celebrate or tell you that you're doing a good job (throwback to him smacking makki's ass bc he scored a point). loves loves looooves to leave marks on it - fingerprints, bites, hickeys, you name it - and he will shamelessly stare at it in public.

☆ oikawa : i think we can all agree on the fact that this man loves tits. seriously. doesn't care if they're big or small, he just loves your chest. he will absolutely use them as pillows and/or slip his hands under your shirt while you're cuddling. loves to see you walk around the house without your bra on, bonus points if you're wearing his clothes. and if there's one thing that makes his knees weak it's seeing tan lines on your chest - one look and he's over the moon. he also probably has a thing for cute lingerie, especially cute bras - or rather, he has a thing for taking said cute lingerie off of you.

☆ bokuto : don't ask him. he genuinely cannot choose, it's physically impossible for him, especially because he's got his hands all over you 99% of the time. probably has a slight preference for ass but he doesn't even realize it. you definitely have his handprints all over your ass because he cannot for the love of god control his strength but he also profusely says sorry if he ever hurts you. either way, wear anything remotely tight or revealing and he's gonna lose his mind.

☆ tsukishima : he will never ever admit it, but tits. he says he doesn’t care and claims to love every part of you equally, but you’ll definitely catch him lacking if you wear anything low cut. of course, he isn’t the type to shamelessly stare at your boobs, we’re talking about kei after all, but you know him, and you can tell his eyes linger on your chest just a little more than usual. and also, they’re the first place he reaches for when cuddling gets a little spicier. probably likes leaving marks on your tits because they’re not as visible as your neck and because he swears that ‘hickeys are stupid’. he still does it nonetheless. again, doesn’t mind if they’re big or small. he just loves them.

☆ atsumu : take a good look at him and tell me this man isn’t a certified boob lover. seriously. bonus points if you have your nips pierced. he just loves boobs. back hug? his hands are finding their way on your chest. cuddling? his face is pressed between your tits. doesn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot while gawking at them, either. he’s just completely enamoured with them, probably loves to suck on them too. also, i feel like he has a thing for girls with tiny waists, don’t know why. he too loves to spoil you with pretty lingerie and definitely loses his mind whenever he sees a bra strap peeking out of any of your shirts.

☆ osamu : now, hear me out. osamu miya loves to cook. he also loves a woman who EATS. for this reason i’m a firm believer of osamu being a man who loves thighs. loves having his face between them, using them as a pillow, biting into them. he will go insane for thigh highs and absolutely adores when they get bigger as you sit down. there’s nothing this man appreciates more than a pair of pretty legs showing up under a short skirt. he would gladly be crushed by your thighs, but he doesn’t dismiss ass either. generally, i think he likes everything - but thighs, they’re his utter weakness. expect many, many hickeys and marks all over them. and, just like kuroo, i just have the slightest feeling that osamu is a munch - make him suffocate and he’ll die happy.

@yamsfrecklvs

[euthymiya]

i do (the practice round) — ft. gojo satoru

satoru doesn’t drink often—but when he does, it’s always because there’s something heavy on his mind. you figure out just what it is as you shove a wasted satoru into your car in the middle of the night

before you read: fem reader ; non curse au, suguru never defects ; established relationship ; drunk gojo, mentions of alcohol ; mentions of marriage and proposals ; banter

notes: i am binging jjk season 2 and i think satoru’s bum ass would definitely ruin his own proposal and never even be aware of it

Sometimes, you appreciate Suguru’s company. He makes it tolerable to deal with the handful that is Satoru. With a boyfriend as…eccentric as Satoru is, having someone as a voice of reason keeps you feeling sane sometimes. But sometimes, you also hate Suguru.

Right now, it’s the latter. You wouldn’t consider yourself on the list of his top fans now that he’s left you with a drunk, stumbling, and absolutely difficult Satoru to wrangle into your car and take home.

“Stupid Suguru,” you grumble, “I told him not to let you drink too much.”

Curse Suguru for leaving you for some random woman at the bar, and curse him for letting your lightweight boyfriend drink as much as he has. Satoru doesn’t even drink often—and certainly not this much.

You can’t help but wonder what got him here in the first place.

“Hey,” Satoru snaps, swatting your hand away as you shove his six-plus-foot-figure into the passenger seat, “don’t touch me. My wife will be mad.”

You pause, blinking before looking at him amused.

“You don’t have a wife, Satoru,” you snort. A small part of you thinks he’s an idiot, of course, but another part of you feels a thumping making itself abundantly clear in your ribcage, somewhere deep in your heart.

Wife. You like the sound of that, you think. You walk around the car, entering the driver’s side as Satoru sits and simmers in his despair.

“Don’t rub it in,” he whines, slumping against the dashboard of your car as he groans. “I don’t have a wife yet. Been trying for ages.”

“Trying what—”

“Every time I think v’got the perfect chance, s’ruined by somethin’ or another.”

“What are you talking about—”

He pulls something shiny out, dangerously at risk of dropping it with how wobbly his hands are from the alcohol in his system. You pause. Blink. Stiffen. Sit there in absolute silence as he stares at the ring in his hands woefully.

“Had it for weeks,” he says pitifully. And then, because he’s just as wasted as you suspected, he holds it out to you. You can’t find it in you to move, just staring blankly at it. “Think she’ll like it?”

“Who?” You croak, playing along.

“My girlfriend,” he grumbles. “You’re not very bright.”

“And you’re not very polite,” you snap back half heartedly, ears still ringing from his words just moments ago. Think she’ll like it?

He means you, of course. He doesn’t realize he’s speaking to the very person he’s supposed to present the ring with, but you suppose now you understand just why he’s taken to drinking so much this evening. He must be quite on edge as of late.

“Polite my ass,” he huffs under his breath, pulling you from out of your thoughts.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” You challenge.

He does. He kisses his girlfriend (you) senseless quite often, in fact. Maybe more than he should…perhaps even at places he should not.

“I do,” he says haughtily. “My girlfriend loves me. She’s obsessed with me, actually. She couldn’t live without me. She kisses me on the mouth all the time. Among other places too.”

You want to slap his shoulder at that last comment—it just about takes you everything not to. “Your girlfriend is crazy for kissing that mouth of yours,” you tease.

Satoru doesn’t appreciate you talking poorly of his girlfriend (you) like that. It’s offensive. You can tell as much from the purely insulted look on his face as he gasps, “don’t speak about my baby like that! This is why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I do, actually,” you grin. He doesn’t believe you—the disbelieving snort he lets out instantly would offend you if it was anyone else, maybe. But Satoru pulls a fond, easy smile across your lips.

It feels like muscle memory.

“You have a boyfriend?” He asks incredulously.

“I do,” you grin.

“You love him?”

“I do,” you confirm. He looks unconvinced, but shrugs anyway.

“Is he a loser or something? Dating you?”

“He is,” you grin wider, “a total loser.”

“Makes sense,” he snickers. And then his attention is back to the ring in his hand, his long, nimble fingers fiddling with it before he murmurs, “I hope she likes it.”

“I’m sure she will,” you say softly, biting your lip as your eyes feel just a bit misty.

You mean it, too. He’ll never know that, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“You really think so?” He asks quietly. Shy. Satoru has never been shy—he’s so many things. Loud. Outspoken. Stubborn. Maybe a little shameless. But shy doesn’t usually describe him.

He seems to unlock a few hidden sides of himself around you. You think you want to unlock a few more.

“I do,” you say for the third time that night.

It’s practice, you think, for the real thing.

Imagine revealing on your tenth anniversary “btw i actually knew you were promising weeks before you did it. You showed me the ring and everything.” He’d claw his eyes out lolll

[guiltyasdave]

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot. 

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin. 

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men. 

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him. 

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!” 

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now. 

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.” 

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows. 

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.” 

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less. 

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet. 

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t. 

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you. 

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss. 

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous. 

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed. 

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.” 

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to. 

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators. 

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.” 

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.” 

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now. 

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?” 

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight. 

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to. 

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger. 

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work. 

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again. 

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day. 

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available. 

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up. 

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong. 

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?” 

“Javier is fine.” 

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask. 

“Why do you not like me?” 

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know. 

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?” 

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–” 

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths. 

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.” 

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are. 

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to. 

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him. 

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply. 

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep. 

You’re the one taking it personal. 

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed. 

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for. 

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?” 

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this. 

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–” 

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you. 

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?” 

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead. 

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years. 

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him. 

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself. 

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá. 

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun. 

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.” 

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you. 

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out. 

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?” 

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. 

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car. 

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed. 

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know. 

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

[dragonsholygrail]

Do Hybrid!Readers count?

I’m thinking of a monster Reader being kept for research purposes and catching the attention of the newest hire. Cheeky, beastly Reader with an awkward, nerdy scientist who unsuccessfully tries to hide his infatuation. He stares for too long, finds pathetic excuses to work overtime, and pretends to be deeply interested in whatever topic involves Reader. Lately, he’s been spotted reading a book about Reader’s kind, particularly mating habits. For, uh, science, mind you.

Alternatively, it can be a human Reader in a monster lab. I just found the dynamic funny. :)

Aaaah, yes yes! It definitely counts, I love this sorta dynamic. It can be really hilarious and a ton of fun ^_^

None of the Scientists in the lab could really figure you out. You were a giant beast who appeared naturally incredibly threatening. So all the scientists had been a bit hesitant to get in close and really figure out what kind of Hybrid you were exactly.

But they just had to. Because for some reason, some idiot had accidently leaked to the press that they had you in custody. Before they knew it there were countless pictures and articles plastered all over the internet about you. People wanted answers and they sadly had to be the ones to get them. So they brought in a specialist.

The young Scientist stared up at you in awe the first time he met you. He couldn’t actually believe he was meeting you up close. He didn’t know how to react. In fact, he didn’t know anything at all when it came to you. You see, he wasn’t actually a hybrid specialist. He was a scientist, that part was true! Everything else may have been a slight exaggeration on his application.

He just wanted to see you so so bad. He had to. The moment he saw those pictures of you he knew the two of you were meant to be. You were the reason he had never totally clicked with humans, couldn’t keep a partner, and had never fallen in love. His heart was waiting for you.

And now that he was with you, he needed to know everything about you. Not only to sate his own desire but also, ya know, to keep his job. Or else some foolish human might try and separate him from you again. It left him fawning over you constantly, watching you all day everyday, always staying late just so he could be alone with you for a couple hours, and butting in whenever someone tried to talk about you. Because of course he knew you best.

His growing knowledge of you left him convinced you were nearing your heat. Your restless behavior. The way you kept banging against the glass trying to get to him. Over the weeks you had noticed his interest and his care and yours had grown just as much. You had chosen him as your mate and he wanted to be there for you.

The only thing he could think to do was read books on mating behaviors. Of just about every single Hybrid species you could possible be.

Stacks of books surround him in the lab. His interest of you hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. Not by a long shot. But they brushed off his strange behavior if jt kept him closer to you and them farther away. They avoid him now too, looking at him like the absolute freak he is as they realize what he’s reading.

Their worry doesn’t decrease when he later explains how you need to mate soon in order to keep you in check. They look at him like he’s truly gone insane and maybe he has. The wild look in his eye has only grown more intense the more he’s been around you without truly being with you.

He convinces them with the idea that you’ll be better after you’ve mated. Easier to handle. More open to having experiments done on you while your body is sated and exhausted after being fucked for hours on end. While in reality, from what he’s studied, the opposite is true.

He doesn’t plan on letting them go anywhere within a mile of you. Not with injections, chemicals, and especially not with their grubby little hands. No, only he can touch you. Only he deserves to be near your beauty and grace.

After you mate with him you’re going to be even more wild and destructive, your instincts inflamed and ready to fight. He’s gonna use that to get you two out of that lab if it’s the last thing he does.

Meanwhile the other scientists don’t suspect a thing as they stand a safe distance away from the cage as it opens to let the young scientist inside. The metal door snaps shut once he’s inside and he feels like he can finally breathe now that there’s nothing keeping you two a part.

Mirroring smirks grow on your faces, your expressions speaking of a secret just between the two of you. And as you both finally meet each other in a passionate embrace, you know this will be a wild night that will end with your freedom and a mate by your side.

[arieslost]

falling for you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: you and oscar should be more than just friends, but neither of you realize it until you’re on vacation… and his girlfriend is there, too.

word count: 2,956

warnings: angsty moments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

PART TWO

shoutout to my dream journal- i got this idea from a dream i had in 2021. also disclaimer, i love lily, she’s so sweet. we’re pretending that oscar is dating someone else here ok thanks <33

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

For the first time in your life, you were regretting taking a vacation, and it was all Oscar Piastri’s fault.

Your family and the Piastris had been going on vacation together for as long as you could remember, and you’ve been best friends with Oscar for just as long. He was in the background of every defining moment of your life. He could say the same about you— best friends forever.

And then, like the idiot you are, you went and fell in love with him. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or when; all you knew was that you woke up on the second day of your vacation, walked into the kitchen, saw him pouring himself a bowl of cereal, and it hit you like a damn truck.

“Good morning, sweetie,” your mom says, barely noticing your slightly panicked expression as you realized that you were very much in love with your best friend.

“Morning,” you mumble back, unable to tear your eyes away from Oscar.

He notices you staring at him, your eyes as wide as saucers, and frowns. “You okay? There’s still some of this in the box, I saved it for you.”

Great. Of course he has to be so thoughtful all the time.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Thanks, Osc.” You squeeze his arm as you pass by. He smiles at you, like he always does when you do that, and you want to die a little.

Especially when his girlfriend enters the room.

It’s the first time either of you have a significant other during your annual vacation time, and while you had aggressively lobbied against it (Oscar obviously had no clue), your parents and his parents had agreed to let her come. You were furious about it for weeks and couldn’t figure out why.

Well, now you know.

You can’t even enjoy your cereal, especially not when she kisses Oscar for everyone to see and then makes direct eye contact with you and smirks when he’s not looking. So, you decide to spend the entire day completely Oscar-less, as much as you wish you could just have him all to yourself like you always do when you’re here.

The thing is, you’ve never liked his girlfriend, obvious reasons aside. Even before Oscar started dating her, you’d never gotten along with her. It was like she had a personal vendetta against you, and always tried her hardest to be touchy with Oscar whenever she saw that you were in her line of sight. The most infuriating part is that literally no one else ever notices her behavior except you. Not even Oscar, your so-called best friend. Normally, you’d go to him to vent about something like this, because he’s always understood you in ways that no one else ever will. Now he’s the last person you can go to.

It sucks. You’re angry at your parents, his parents, and especially him for asking if he could bring her along in the first place.

You end up spending your entire morning and most of the afternoon at the beach. You don’t put on enough sunscreen because there’s no one there to make sure you use the proper amount. You hate getting sunburn, but you’d take that over seeing Oscar with his girlfriend. By the time you get back to the rental, everyone is off doing their own thing. Your parents are putting together a puzzle in the living room. Oscar’s parents have the door to their room shut, and you can hear the TV playing. You don’t have the courage to go looking for Oscar himself– once you see that he’s not in your shared room, you know that he’s either out or in his girlfriend’s room. Either way, you don’t want to know.

That was another thing that makes you wish this vacation never happened: Oscar had been allowed to bring his girlfriend, but the only condition was that the two of them had to sleep in separate rooms. That meant the two of you shared a room like always, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take every possible chance he could to go to hers, meaning you’re alone most of the time.

You might as well just pack up and walk home to save yourself the struggle of five more days.

It doesn’t seem like anyone is around to hear, so you let out a loud, frustrated groan as you flop back onto your bed. You look to your right, past Oscar’s bed, at the flowy curtains hanging in front of the doors that lead to the deck outside. One of the doors is ajar, and the slight breeze makes the curtains flap gently.

“You okay, sweetie?” Of course your mom heard you from all the way down the hall.

“Yeah,” you reply in a way that makes it very obvious that you’re not okay.

“Ah, I know that tone.” Your mom says, crossing the room to sit at the foot of your bed. “You need a boyfriend. You wouldn’t be this mopey if you had someone here with you, too.”

Like Oscar does. “You’re telling me,” you scoff bitterly. “I guess I’ll try a little harder for next year.”

“Well, are there any boys you’re interested in?” She asks, rubbing your leg comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, turning your head away from her so she can’t get a perfect view of your face heating up as you think about your best friend.

She hums. “Yeah, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“It’s Oscar, isn’t it?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Ugh! Leave now, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Nice try.” Your mom pries your hands away and gives you a look. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea that you like Oscar. He doesn’t exactly have the most stable lifestyle.”

“He doesn’t need stability, he’s rich.” You shoot back. “I don’t even care about that, Mom. I’m not exactly interested in him because of his lifestyle.” You consider not saying it, but you’ll feel better getting it off your chest. “And his girlfriend is a bitch.”

“You’re right,” your mom says, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I hate his girlfriend. I’ve always thought that you’re much better suited for him.”

“No kidding. Known him his whole life, everyone thought we were dating growing up, we’ve gone through just about everything together. I guess that simply doesn’t compare to the girl he’s known for five whole months.” You’re being snarky now, and you can’t find it in you to care. It should be you dating Oscar.

Everyone else seems to think so except him.

Your mom laughs, but in a way that you know that she agrees with you, as childish as you’re being. She continues to rub your leg, and the comforting motion has your eyes drooping. The stress of your newfound feelings and the warmth of the sun on your skin is more than enough to tire you out.

“Nap time?” She asks eventually, and you nod slowly.

“Mhmm.”

“I’ll come wake you up before dinner.” She kisses the top of your head, gets up, and then says something that has you wide awake. “Hey, Oscar. She’s sleeping.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll be quiet.” You hate the calming effect his voice has on you, even though now just looking at him has sent your heart racing.

One of them shuts the door, and shortly after you can feel the bed dipping under Oscar’s weight as he lays down next to you.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Missed you.”

I missed you more. Jerk.

“I know you’re awake,” he continues. “But you don’t have to talk to me.”

Good.

“I guess I deserve the silent treatment.”

Your resolve cracks a little, because he sounds genuinely upset. As much as you want to, you don’t open your eyes, but you do turn around to face him and move closer in the process. You can smell the faint traces of his cologne, and you have to fight a sigh of contentment. Damn him for always making you feel so safe. Besides, you’re a little cold now thanks to the air conditioning.

Your eyes nearly fly open in shock when he wastes no time in pulling you closer so you’re properly cuddled into his side and puts his arm around you. He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, before he moves around a little and leans his head against yours.

The logical side of you is screaming to quit the sleeping facade and confront him right here and now about this rather intimate behavior, but the side of you that just discovered the strong feelings you harbor for your best friend tells you to just play along and enjoy whatever alone time you have with him. It’s not hard to pick which side to listen to.

The two of you stay this way for so long you start falling asleep again, and it only gets worse when he starts rubbing your back. It starts out very subtle; at first, his fingertips just move up and down along the fabric of your shirt. He stops for a moment, like he’s considering the outcomes of his actions, and then flattens his palm against your back and continues the up and down motion. You bury your head in his chest, mostly to hide the fact that you’re turning red but also because you just want to be closer to him. He hums a little when you do it, and you have to stop yourself from weighing the logistics of whether or not you could get away with kissing him right here and now.

You have to fight the urge to sleep, wanting to soak in every moment of his strange but welcome actions. Maybe this is all just an elaborate dream– either way, you’re not going to sleep through it.

The sound of him sighing again catches your attention, but you’re entirely brought back to reality when he starts moving.

You fully give up. You don’t want him to go, so you say his name quietly and look up at him.

He sits up a little to look back at you, and you reach up to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb. “We’re on vacation. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“So are you.” He points out.

Of course he’s picked up on it.

“It’s complicated.”

“Talk to me,” he encourages, shifting so he can keep you close. His little polite cat smile nearly has you spilling your guts to him about how much you wish you were the one he was kissing in front of everyone.

You press your lips together. “I… I can’t, Osc.”

You always hate his crestfallen expression, but you hate it more when you’re the cause of it.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Just… not this. Anything but this.”

He hums again, but not in the happy way that he did before when you were practically trying to crawl into his skin. This is more like a hum of concentration.

You have a moment of hope, thinking that maybe he’ll just let it go, but you know your best friend better than that. It doesn’t change your shock when he speaks again.

“Okay. I think I know what this is about.”

“I seriously doubt you do.” You can’t help but laugh a little. How could he possibly know about something that you yourself only just discovered?

He gives you a specific look then, a look that you have always despised being on the receiving end of. It’s a look that tells you he’s expecting you to explain yourself and see if he’s right. He usually is right, which only makes it worse.

“No.” You shake your head, starting to try and find a way to get up. “No, Oscar, don’t make me say it.”

He isn’t having it though: his arm stays snug around you, and he puts one of his legs between both of yours, hooking his ankle around yours so you can’t escape.

“Oscar,” you whine. “No fair, with your stupid reflexes.”

He whines your name back in the same exact tone. “Shouldn’t try to get away from me, then.”

You let out a groan of frustration. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Someone walks out into the hallway, and the sound of the footsteps coming towards your room makes the both of you freeze. The two of you are in a rather precarious position, with your limbs tangled and Oscar practically on top of you. Not that you necessarily mind, but if anyone walked in right now, eyebrows would be raised.

Oscar seems to be thinking along the same lines as you, meeting your wide-eyed stare with his own but not making any effort to move away. It clicks in your head at that exact moment, just as it did in the morning when you walked into the kitchen.

He does know.

“How?” You whisper, too wrapped up in your disbelief to even be embarrassed.

“I know you better than anyone,” he whispers back, head whipping towards the closed door when you hear a creak, like someone’s weight is shifting on the floor.

The footsteps recede. You both let out a breath, turning to face each other again. You’re close. Too close. Close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

You remember the last time you were this close to him— you were both 14, playing hide and seek at midnight at a friend’s birthday party. He’d accidentally chosen the same hiding place as you, a desk with a rolling chair in front of it, and you’d been forced to squish together underneath the desk in order to conceal yourselves well enough. You were mad that he chose the same spot as you because it raised the likelihood of being found, and he’d just giggled at you every time you glared at him. You remember how much you loved his giggle, and how you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss his smile.

Well. You really have been in love with him this whole time.

You want nothing more than to crawl under the bed and stay there for the rest of the vacation so you don’t have to look him in the eye. You never want to speak to him again. You want to tell him everything. You want to push him away. You want to hold him closer.

“Tell me I didn’t ruin our friendship.” Is all you can think to say, and Oscar reacts immediately, brushing your hair out of your face and hugging you tightly.

“Honey, you could never ruin this.” He presses his nose into your hair, brushes his lips against your head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry,” you grumble into his chest.

He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to alternate between playing with the ends of your hair and drawing shapes on your shoulder with his fingers. He’s always been affectionate with you, but this is a whole new level, and your overthinking has you worried that you’ll lose it entirely as soon as the two of you have to leave this room and face the reality of the situation. You close your eyes, trying your hardest to soak up every little detail of this moment in the event that you never get another like it.

You know Oscar thinks you’re asleep when, much to your dismay (and maybe his, too), he gets up and gently lays you back against your pillow.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” you hear him say, and then you feel his lips press firmly against your temple, his hand leaving the most featherlight touch on your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The soft material of a blanket covers your body, and the door opens and shuts. Your tears waste no time in soaking into the pillowcase.

You’re regretting this vacation, but it isn’t Oscar’s fault.

He’s not the one who fell in love with the one person he can’t have.

Things change, but not at all in the way you expect. Oscar still throws an arm around you for every picture and hoists you onto his back without hesitation for the obligatory piggyback photo that has been a vacation tradition since forever. His girlfriend still looks at you like you’re the pebble she can’t get out of her shoe, but for every dirty look and intentional display of affection, Oscar is there to make up for it. He goes to the beach with you and makes sure that you apply enough sunscreen, he goes to the amusement park with you even though he hates most of the rides, he takes you to breakfast at the risk of his girlfriend throwing a fit when you get back. She does, but he doesn’t care. He does it every year, and he tells you that he’d be damned if he didn’t keep up with it.

Maybe he pities you. It doesn’t matter. You can live with never even having a chance with the boy you think you’ve always wanted something more with, so long as you can continue to call him your best friend.

He leaves for his next race on the last day of vacation, and his girlfriend goes with him. You support him from home. He calls you every single day.

Oscar has never been able to go more than 24 hours without hearing your voice. He’s never been able to fully express just how much he needs you, and now he has to face the obstacle of breaking up with his girlfriend before he can even try.

note: this fic was low key my personal everest and i changed the ending at the last second because i hate angst. if anyone is interested in a part two, let me know because i’d be happy to write it at some point!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @littlemiss-arabella @notturlover @verstappensrealwife @oliveisunstable @hauntedphotographybookstaco @maddie-bell @hood-jabi @jupiter-je-taime @uzisplanet @akiraquote @average-f1-enjoyer @xo-mya1 @beth-712 @bingewatche @alex15marie @ana2delusional @tomhollandfics @cixrosie @simpluvrs @meko-mt

[jjkamochoso]

How JJK Characters React to You Describing Them as Your Type When Todo Asks

Fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: pretend you’re in a huge group with all of the students present when this question was asked :) also, I went with the anime adaptation of the characters rather than the manga, just fyi!

There’s a part 2 here! in which you react to them describing you as their type :)

Yuji:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

“Yeah y/n, we wanna know!” Yuji said, excitedly. You figured there was no harm in sharing, Todo and the group were just looking for fun to distract them for a little bit.

“Okay, well I like guys that are average height, not too tall or short. Super strong, of course, with a cute, goofy smile. Oh, and colored hair is always fun too!”

“Oh man, he sounds so cool! If I find any guys that look like that, don’t worry, I’ll send them your way!” Shaking your head and laughing, you got into a conversation with Megumi while Nobara yanked Yuji out of your earshot.

“Yuji! Don’t you realize what y/n said?!”

He rested his chin in his fingers, deep in thought for a few moments before he answered.

“No? Should I have?”

Nobara didn’t hesitate to whack him on the top of the head.

“They literally described you, idiot! Don’t you own a mirror?!” Yuji’s mouth opened in a big smile. This was great news since he had a big crush on you!

“Y/n! I have to talk to you!”

Megumi:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

You sighed. You didn’t want to join Todo’s antics but you had no choice.

“You don’t have to answer him. It’s a stupid question anyway.”

Megumi’s voice came unexpectedly from behind you. You smiled inwardly at his protectiveness.

“I appreciate that Fushiguro, but I might as well. Let’s see. I like moody boys on the lankier side with dark black hair and dark blue eyes. He has to love animals too.”

You looked at Megumi to see if it registered that you were talking about him. All of a sudden, he sported a deep blush and excused himself from the group. Todo gave you a hearty smack on the back for your response.

“I’m proud of you for baring your soul like that to the one you love,” he said, tears rolling down his face. “Y/n, go get your man!”

You turned to look at your friends who all just shrugged their shoulders. Looks like you’re off to find Megumi then!

Nobara:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

You had no hesitation answering this question, you loved to talk about things like this, gossip and crushes and the sort. Besides, it was time Nobara knew how you felt!

“I thought you’d never ask! I really like short girls with short hair. If it’s a vibrant color, that’s a plus. Spunky personalities are the best and I need someone who’ll keep up with me when I go shopping.”

Looking over at Nobara, you saw her jaw drop and you knew she understood what you were getting at.

“Y/n! You liked me and you never told me?! This whole time?!” she shouted, running towards you. You didn’t know whether she was going to hit or kiss you so you took off running as well. Gotta love the feisty girls!

Maki:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

“This stupid question again?” grumbled Maki. You were a bit nervous to reply to Todo. You had a huge crush on Maki but she was, well, intimidating, to say the least. To be fair, so was Todo, and you heard what happened to Fushiguro so you went with the safest bet.

“I like girls who are on the taller side and insanely strong. Light eyes, dark hair. Straight to the point, always. And uh… glasses.”

Maki hadn’t moved a muscle and you cringed, fearing the worst. Best case scenario, she would ignore you ever said that. Worst case, she’d beat you up. When she came over and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, you gulped.

“Y/n. We’re talking about this somewhere else.”

(Spoiler alert: when you were somewhere else, you kissed🤭)

Inumaki:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

Todo was on your last nerve. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but why should you be expected to tell everyone your personal business like this? In front of both schools’ students, no less! When you were filled in on what happens when you don’t answer truthfully, you resigned to the fact that you were exposing your true feelings to everyone today, whether you liked it or not.

“I like shorter men, preferably with medium length blonde hair, and bright purple eyes. He doesn’t talk much but more than makes up for it with his top tier sense of humor.” You noticed that Inumaki never broke his gaze from you as you spoke. You shuffled over to where he was sitting to explain yourself, but this time it was you who couldn’t find the right words.

“Mustard leaf?” Inumaki broke the silence first, basically asking you what was wrong since you marched over there and hadn’t said a thing.

“Look, Toge, I’m sorry if I—”

He tugged on your sleeve, stopping you. In his hands was a note that read, “I like you too” with a little smiley face at the end.

Yuta:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

You weren’t sure how to answer Todo. On one hand, you didn’t want to expose your crush on Yuta. On the other, would be it so bad for the truth to be out there? He was a kind person that wouldn’t drop your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way.

“I really like average height guys with longer dark hair and big, dark blue eyes. Personality wise he has to be extremely loyal and caring. Oh, and good with a sword.”

“Sooo… Yuta?” questioned Panda, and you nodded in agreement, your face warming with a blush.

“Wait, me? Really?” Yuta’s eyes lit up as he broke out into a hopeful smile. You nodded again.

“Oh man, that’s great!” he exclaimed, and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve liked you for awhile too and I just thought maybe you didn’t feel the same but you do! Which is amazing!” You laughed softly at his rambling. This school year just got a whole lot better!

Gojo:

“Y/L/N sensei! What kind of man is your type?”

“Todo, isn’t that wildly inappropriate to ask your superior?” you answered, a joking tone present.

“Maybe, but we’re curious! Please, sensei?”

“Yeah, sensei! It’s just for fun” Yuji chimed in.

“And it’s a team building exercise to know something so personal! You’re always saying we need to communicate better,” added Nobara. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I meant that to be an exercise among you children, not me. But I will entertain this for only a moment, so listen carefully,” you told the group and they cheered like their favorite baseball player hit a home run. As you were about to spill your secret, you spotted Satoru leaning against a wall, clearly interested in the secret you were about to spill.

“I like super tall men who are lean but extremely strong. He has to be very funny and goofy but with a kind heart. White hair and striking blue eyes are also a must.”

Maki’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she exclaimed, “You like that blindfolded idiot?!”

As the kids clamored at the newfound information, Gojo took that time to approach you and the students.

“Excuse me everyone, but me and my new lover must depart,” he announced, taking your hand dramatically while leading you away to laugh at what just happened.

Noritoshi:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

You groaned. You really didn’t want Noritoshi to know about your infatuation with him. It was no secret that he had more important things to deal with than schoolyard crushes so you were afraid to confess in case it made him uncomfortable—or worse, dislike you!

“You don’t have to answer the immature question, y/n,” Noritoshi spoke up when he noticed your discomfort. You were grateful for him but you wanted to keep the peace among your classmates and judging by the death glare Todo sent to you two, you’d better start talking.

“Thank you Kamo, but I value harmony among friends so I will answer this for Todo’s amusement only. I like tall men with a bit longer dark hair and gray eyes. Having an honorable character and being good with a bow is the way to my heart.” You felt Noritoshi tense up next to you and you refused to look at him out of fear of rejection. He took you by surprise when he leaned over ever so slightly to whisper to you.

“I was caught off guard by your confession but I can’t say I don’t feel the same. Can we discuss this later?”

Todo:

“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”

Your eyes went wide when Todo’s booming voice reached your ears. You were super into him but no one knew. You knew you couldn’t fool him with a fake answer, though, and if you were going to feel his hand for the first time, you’d rather it be from holding it with your own than having it curled in a fist and connecting with your face.

“Um… I like men that are extremely tall and buff. Dark hair, tan skin. And passionate, of course.”

“Hm! That’s a great answer! He sounds hot,” replied Todo, smirking, “but unfortunately for that perfect fake man, I’m taking you on a date first because you’re my type!”

You definitely weren’t expecting this!

Mai:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

You rolled your eyes. This big oaf is going to jeopardize your friendship for sure. You really liked Mai but you figured she wasn’t into dating and all the lovey dovey stuff.

“Do I have to answer?” you asked, praying Todo had a change of heart.

“No, y/n, we all wanna know. What’s your type?” Mai chimed in, a sly grin on her face. You gulped.

“I… like women that have short, dark hair and dark eyes. If she’s taller than average that’s cool, and I love a snarky personality.”

“No way!” exclaimed Momo when she realized who you were talking about. You refused to look anyone in the eyes out of embarrassment and fear. What you weren’t expecting was Mai grabbing your hand and leading you somewhere else. Hopefully it was to talk and not get beat up!

Momo:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

You huffed in annoyance. There were always some sort of antics with this guy! You had liked Momo for awhile now but she was like an enigma to you. You could never get a good read on her so maybe telling her how you felt outright would be a good thing?

“I really like girls with blonde hair and blue eyes, and short, too. Having a cute personality is a plus as well,” you answered, hoping that was straightforward enough.

“Wait a minute, that sounds exactly like me!” Momo exclaimed, blushing slightly. You sheepishly nodded your head.

“Because it is. I have a crush you.”

The whole group erupted in a chorus of “aww’s” and “how adorable.” You were nervous that you had accidentally made her uncomfortable but your fears disappeared as she came over to sit next to you. When the students were distracted by another topic, you felt Momo’s hand rest over so slightly on top your own and you knew you made the right decision to confess.

Miwa:

“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”

Before you spoke, you met eyes with Miwa. It almost seemed as if she was anxious to hear what you had to say!

“Girls with dark blue eyes and are average height are my type. I also really like girls with kind hearts and are down to earth. Blue hair isn’t too bad, either,” you finished, smiling nervously. Both of you were blushing messes while Mai scoffed “Get a room!” Your classmates were just happy that the secret was out in the open—they were tired of you two dancing around your feelings for each other!

[itaipava]

— f1 boys: the ones you catch staring at you and the ones that catch you staring at them.

THE ONES YOU CATCH STARING AT YOU. . .

LANDO NORRIS can’t stop looking at you. everyone can see how in love and enchanted by you he is just by the way he looks at you with so much love, affection and a beautiful glow of admiration in his eyes. and honestly he doesn’t care if you caught him staring at you or if someone make fun of him for it, he’ll simply keep looking at you the same way but this time with a lazy smile on his face. you try to maintain eye contact for a while, but his gaze is so deep (and in love) it makes you feel shy and fuzzy inside, and when you look away first, he laughs softly and walks over to you, kissing your forehead and calling you beautiful.

DANIEL RICCIARDO sometimes can’t help it, he’s so mesmerized and intrigued by every little detail of yours that he gets lost in that moment. his bright eyes follow your every move as he makes a mental note of all your mannerisms and quirks and how beautiful you are. and he just realizes he’s staring too hard when you points it out; he somehow looks more delighted at being caught than embarrassed. his eyes have nothing but warmth and love as you look at him across the table, and he instantly leans forward, his chin resting on his palm, letting out a dreamy sigh along with a simple smile, totally undramatic, ‘i think you’re the most beautiful person in the world’ and you might think he’s joking, but he really says it with his heart.

MAX VERSTAPPEN doesn’t understand why, but everything you do is charming to him. even the simplest and most mundane things became more beautiful and light to him after he saw you do them; it’s as if you’ve given a new meaning to his life. and when you turn to look at him after feeling the weight of his gaze on you, all you can do is smile; the way he looks at you with all the attention in the world, his eyes shining with love and compassion but also curiosity makes your heart flutter in your chest. he just pretends he hasn’t been caught looking at you like you hang the stars and moon in his sky. but if you look very closely, you will notice a slight flush in his cheeks; you tease him about it and he seriously denies it, avoiding eye contact, but one accidental look at you amidst the bickering, he’s a goner of course, with a fond little smile already tugging on his lips.

OSCAR PIASTRI has his heart racing and red cheeks as he quickly looks away when he realizes he’s been caught staring at you for too long, and for a while, he looks anywhere in the room even when you try to get his attention playfully, but unfortunately, the lovestruck boy can’t help but steal a few too many glances in your direction when he thinks you’ve looked away only to get caught again.

THE ONES THAT CATCH YOU STARING AT THEM. . .

CARLOS SAINZ blatantly looks back at you, his gaze on your face light and unwavering; so full of adoration and love it sends a shiver down your spine. and when he knowingly asks why you are looking at him, you tell him that you enjoy doing it because he’s so beautiful, to which he can only smile sweetly and say, taking your hand in his, “i like looking at you too... you’re too pretty to be real”

CHARLES LECLERC is one of those who keep throwing glances in your direction, a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips, and when you’re seemingly unfazed, he takes that as a challenge, looking right at you and holding eye contact until you’re the one who eventually looks away; only then, he cracks a gleeful grin, playfully poking your cheek while coolly yet fondly saying ‘cute.’

LEWIS HAMILTON is one of those who notices you staring for a while now but acts otherwise only to suddenly whip around and face you with the goofiest grin. having caught off-guard, you turn away, flustered, and he coos lightly ‘aw come on don’t get all shy on me now’ and cups your face gently to make you look at him so now you’re two smitten idiots, smiling at each other, utterly and hopelessly in love.

[ambers-archive]

got love struck ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .˚ ✧ ˚　

in which spencer wants your anniversary to be perfect, but everyday is perfect with you. word count: 2.1k cw: purple scarf cameo, idiots in love, fluff, happy ending, established relationship. (english isn't my first language, minimal proofread!) pt1 what if all i need is you (can be read as standalone)

Spencer closed the tab on his computer, a frustrated scowl forming on his lips. For days, he’d been scouring the internet, spending sleepless nights hunched over his desk, searching for the perfect anniversary gift for you. It was your first year together, and everything had to be perfect.

But nothing felt right. Every idea he considered was quickly dismissed. He shut his eyes, trying to quiet his overthinking mind.

You two met at his favorite coffee place, he noticed you right away when he realized you stole his seat. 

You had yourself perched against the chair nuzzled against the rest of the wall. 

And after a week of ogling you across the room he finally got enough courage to start a conversation over a book you were reading. Then with shaky fingers and some mumbling he finally had the courage to ask you out, suggesting a tour of the city since you just moved.

Spencer knew his demanding work schedule wasn’t easy on you. You were so patient, understanding, and kind—perhaps too kind, he often thought. Canceled dinner dates, postponed trips, missed laughs, and missed love were all too common. Yet despite it all, you always met him with a reassuring smile.

“I know you’re busy saving lives,” You had told him once, as the two of you cuddled in bed after the third missed date in a row. He hadn’t had anything better to offer than a string of apologies, and he feared one day it wouldn't be enough.

“Hey pretty boy, what’s got you so upset?” Morgan asked, his voice pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.

Spencer took a moment to collect himself before turning to Morgan. “I’m trying to figure out a good anniversary gift for her.”

In a room full of profilers he didn’t think they’d be so keen on his social cues, but of course they noticed him constantly fidgeting and sneaking quick glances at his phone. 

Emily was the first to find out about you.

The teasing lasted months.

Penelope was rushing toward his desk with her tea in one hand and Morgan’s coffee in the other.

“You have to go all out!” Garcia exclaimed, barely containing her excitement. “Chocolates, flowers—oh, please tell me you’ve got the whole day planned!”

“Calm down, baby girl,” Morgan laughed, taking his coffee. “I’m sure our genius over here has something in mind.”

Spencer sighed. “I want to make it special since it’s our first anniversary, but I just don’t know what she’d like.”

“Well, what are her love languages?” Penelope asked, ready to unleash her vast knowledge of relationships.

“I think it’s quality time,” Spencer replied, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought about you. “She’s always engaged in our conversations, making strong eye contact, putting her phone away, asking questions. She also lingers after dates.”

He paused, recalling the moments you’d linger on your doorstep after he drove you home, the way you’d breathe him in after a kiss, your forehead resting against his. “She never seems in a rush to leave, like she values every moment we spend together.”

Morgan grinned, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look. “There you go, pretty boy. Think about what she loves, what makes her happy. That’s the key.”

Spencer nodded picked up his phone, scrolling through the list he’d made of all your favorite things.

He stopped on a picture of you smiling back at him from the screen, a photo he’d taken during one of your many picnics. Your hair had been flowing in the wind, your eyes crinkled with your smile as you explained the meaning behind one of your favorite songs. It was the same photo that graced both his phone and laptop backgrounds.

“She loves almost every kind of art,” he whispered, his heart swelling with affection. “Renaissance literature, realism paintings, classic books. And she’s really outdoorsy too.”  He whispered, his heart expanding, pumping. thump, thump- laced with love.

He thought about the countless picnic dates, the times you’d coaxed him out of bed for a run or a hike. His mind wandered to what you might be doing right now—your second class of the day had likely started, and he imagined you taking notes, doodling in the margins.

Penelope and Morgan exchanged amused glances, their lips quivering with smiles as they listened to Spencer’s lovesick ramblings.

“Looks like Reid’s got it bad,” Morgan whispered to Garcia, who stifled a giggle behind her hand.

“He really does,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hadn’t seen you in two weeks, four days, twenty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds—far too long. He didn’t want to waste another moment as he approached your door, your favorite flowers in hand. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait another second, as you opened the door before he could even knock.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. Every day, he found himself falling for you more and more. You gave him a shy smile, stepping out to wrap your arms around his taller frame. He hugged you back immediately, burying his head in the crook of your neck. When you finally pulled apart, he took a proper look at you, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. In that moment, and in every other, you were the epitome of beauty—a vision that left him utterly mesmerized.

“These are for you,” Spencer said softly, offering you the peonies. He realized they paled in comparison to you, but nonetheless, he held them out.

“You never forget them, Spence,” you said, your voice equally soft. Spencer chuckled, half-offended that you’d think he ever could—eidetic memory or not.

“I’m glad you like them,” he replied, taking your hand as he led you to his car, opening the door for you. “I have the whole day planned.”

“Yeah?” Your head rises of its own accord against the car seat. 

"I really want it to be perfect." 

It’s already perfect because how much better can it get you thought? You're in his car, your favorite songs playing in the background and his hand never leaves your side. 

“It already is.” You say grazing your thumb over his knuckles. 

You finally reach the place away from everyone else. “There’s a trail nearby and a perfect place for a picnic.” Spencer whispers, slipping his hand into yours again. 

It fits so perfectly.

You smile, squeezing his hand “Lead the way.” 

In a field of daisies Spencer pulls out a blanket, carefully placing his gifts as he pats the spot next to him. You nestle against his taller frame, he smells like sandalwood, coffee, and home. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him, he smiles down at you playing with your hair absentmindedly. 

“You. Always you.” You get the familiar, but nevertheless oh-so welcome kick in your stomach every time he smiles at you. 

“What about you?” He asks in return, and you shrug, not able to convey all your emotions. 

“I'm thinking that I want my gifts.” You say slightly pouting.

With a shy smile, Spencer untangled himself from you and reached for the presents. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package and a small painting, both wrapped with care.

“I hope you like them,” he said, his voice tinged with nervousness.

Your eyes lit up as you unwrapped the gifts, revealing a limited edition of Sylvia Plath’s work—a book you’d mentioned offhandedly that you’d been searching for. Your gaze met his, overflowing with emotions you hadn’t known were possible. You always believed in love, but this? This was beyond anything you’d imagined. It made all the heartbreaks of the past worth it because they led you to him.

You abandoned the gifts, flinging yourself into his arms. He laughed, catching you as you both tumbled onto the grass. Spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “I’m glad you like them,” he replied, still holding you.

“How did you even find it?” you asked, marveling at the book.

“Brittney Johnson—remember the missing persons case we solved? Her dad’s a book collector. He was really grateful and said if we ever needed a favor, he’d be happy to help.”

You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. You’d spent so long building walls around yourself, convincing yourself you didn’t need a relationship. But with Spencer, those walls crumbled before you even had a chance to put them up.

“I also wrote you a card, my handwriting isn't the best, but I know you like words of affirmation” Spencer said, reaching into his bag. But before he could present it, dark clouds gathered overhead, and raindrops began to fall, dampening the ground.

“Seriously?” Spencer groaned, quickly sheltering you with his jacket. The chocolate and sandwiches were ruined, along with your clothes. The two of you hurried to the car, making sure the gifts were safe, and finally found shelter inside.

“I’m sorry our picnic was ruined, angel,” Spencer said, helping you fix your hair.

“It’s not ruined, Spence. We can have a night in, order some Chinese, and finish a new episode?” you suggested, trying to cheer him up.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, though he couldn’t hide his disappointment as he started the car.

𐙚 ✱ ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .

Back at your apartment, the two of you hurried inside, drenched from the rain. You kicked off your shoes and quickly disappeared into your bedroom, returning with dry clothes for both of you. You handed Spencer his sweater, the one you’d “borrowed” long ago, and couldn’t help but smile as he accepted it.

“Hey, I was looking for this,” he said, pulling on the warm sweater.

“Sorry I stole it,” You replied, not the least bit apologetic.

He shook his head, following you to the kitchen, where you were setting up takeout containers on the counter. The sweater smells like you and he thinks he should let you keep it. It smells like cherries, winter warmth and like the love of his life.

“I love that you did. I feel closer to you whenever I wear it.”

You blushed, grateful he couldn’t see your flushed cheeks as you turned to grab plates. Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“This isn’t how I planned our anniversary,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

You turned in his arms, cupping his cheek as you gazed into his warm eyes. “Spence, it was perfect. It’s not about the flowers or the gifts or the picnic. It’s about being with you.”

Before Spencer could respond, you gently stepped out of his embrace, suddenly remembering you still had his gift to give.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said with a smile, rummaging through the gift bag. You walked back to him, holding up a beautifully knitted purple scarf.

“My mom’s been teaching me how to knit, and this is the first thing I made. It’s for you. I know you get colds easily, and keeping your neck and chest warm can help reduce the shock of inhaling cold, dry air, which irritates your respiratory tract. I even stitched my name on the end, so a part of me is always with you.”

Spencer’s face lit up as he accepted the scarf, immediately noticing how it carried your familiar scent.

“This is so thoughtful,” he said, his eyes soft with appreciation. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been this concerned about my colds. Although, just so you know, wearing a scarf alone won’t prevent you from catching a cold. Colds are caused by viruses, usually spread through respiratory droplets or by touching contaminated surfaces.”

You smiled at his rambling, finding comfort in the way his mind worked—it was like a love language all its own. Chuckling softly, you wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting it just right.

“It’s the thought that counts, angel,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s already my favorite scarf.” He then brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them.

It's in the quiet, messy, beautifully imperfect moments like this, spencer thinks: where love is felt in every heartbeat, every glance, and every shared breath.

thank you so much for reading <33

[yandere--stuck]

would u ever write more for stanley.. its so dry out here.. stanation is suffering in a drought……….

You're so right, I'm so sorry, Stanation!!!!

---

💰 Stanley's obsession for you manifests into rocketing between pitiful internal justification for his possessive feelings for you and deep, deep self-loathing and disgust with himself while trying to distance himself from you. Oh, and who could forget, Stanley allowing himself to indulge in fantasies of you returning his feelings and living out happily ever after together. Ha, like that'll ever happen! … But, a man can dream, can't he? Just nice, sappy, romantic stuff, you know? Cuddling together in bed, making the kids breakfast with sleep still in both your eyes, watching the sunset together on the porch, and scaring off any lousy creep that tries to take what's his with one of his many guns. In fact, he may already be doing that last one.

🎲 Talks a big game and acts like a tough guy around you, but it couldn't be further from the truth - at least when it comes to you. In reality, when Stan's around you, he feels one second away from breaking and acting like a lovesick puppy. He feels like a kid with a crush! He hasn't felt this way since he was a young man! It'd be embarrassing if it, if you, didn't make him so happy. He just feels lucky he hasn't turned into a babbling, blushing idiot in front of you or the kids. That's for when your backs are turned. There have been some close calls, though. Like the time he got so lost in listening to you speak that he hadn't realized he'd started resting the side of his face on his hand while staring at you, hearts practically in his eyes. The moment he realized, he'd run off from you with a shout of, “Nonspecific excuse!”

💰 Stan is a bit of a collector, and that certainly doesn't stop with you. He loves snatching little keepsakes from you. Nothing you'd miss, or nothing you'd miss for long. Discarded doodles, forgotten gloves, change that had fallen to the floor unnoticed, and occasionally, your phone, to make sure he didn't have a competition. Everything he keeps goes into his study. He also likes swiping your unfinished snacks or drinks and finishing them himself - he thinks of it as an indirect kiss (yeah, he's gross, what of it?) And it's hard to admit even to himself, but he gets a certain thrill whenever he snaps a candid shot of you from one of the polaroid he swiped from stock for “store use.” That's not all, though! He goes through security camera footage and rifles through it for cute videos of you - ah, but hey, you're always cute, aren't you? He saves them all and watches them religiously. He also may secretly go through Mabel's scrapbook to find pictures of you and make copies of them for his own personal collection, always making sure it gets returned to Mabel seemingly untouched. It's probably the most organized collection he has! And, of course, he's put a framed picture of you right beside the one of Mabel and Dipper in the laboratory downstairs. It makes Stan think of an imagined, impossible world where you and he raise the two together. Your own little family.

🎲 Another fantasy he indulges in is drugging you up and keeping you hidden in the laboratory. It'd be so easy. You're so trusting of him when you really shouldn't be, when he doesn't deserve to be. It'd be so easy to steal you away all for himself. Gravity Falls is a weird town. Strange things happen, and they either go unremembered or unspoken. Sure, you'd be missed, but it's not like the police force in town would get very far. Heck, he'd put more faith in his grand-niblings cracking the case than Blubs and Durland! And, well, you stole his heart first. It's only fair. And Stan would take such good care of you, he knows it! He'd keep you all nice and drugged up. Maybe you'd be euphoric and clingy, or your brain too foggy to escape or do much for yourself, or maybe he'd give you something so that you're too sick to even consider leaving for the hospital lest your condition worsen any further. You'd need him. That's all he'd ever want.

💰 Stan is very protective of you. He tries not to be so obvious, but his temper had such a short fuse when it came to you. You were just so sweet, so nice, even to a scumbag like him! You were so good with the kids, always such a help around the shack, even going so far as to visit on your day off just because you liked the Pines’ company. Liked his company. I mean, how the hell could anyone think they're good enough for you? Nah, nah, nah, he's not letting any mouth-breathing idiots in this town try to make moves on you just because they're too stupid to realize you're outta their league! And if he even thinks he hears someone a bad word about you, he'll be up in their face, cussing them out and making threats (as well as very rude hand gestures.) It's embarrassing for him afterwards, though. He doesn't want to think he's losing control and becoming more obvious, but with how Mabel claims it was ‘so sweet’ of him to be so protective of you, he can't help but worry.

🎲 Stan gradually becomes more physically affectionate with you. “Accidentally” brushing his hands against yours, leaving a hand on your shoulder or arm for a bit too long, nearly embarrassing himself by wrapping you up in a hug in front of everyone. He just can't help it! He's… He's in love! He's in love with you, and he wants to be with you. You make him happy just by being near him. You make his life better just by being in it. He wants to hold you, hug you, kiss you, be with you, and keep you with him forever. But, Stan also knows he can't. You'd never agree to it, surely. No matter how much Stan wants to think otherwise. Old bastard like him, he wasn't good enough for you - but then again, he thought no one was. But he could take comfort in you just being near him (if you ever tried to leave, he doesn't know what he'd do…) That way, at least, he couldn't screw anything up. That's all he'd do, anyway. It'd fail, just like all of his other relationships and all because of him. He should know better. He should know that he's a fuckup, that he destroys everything he touches, and that everyone he's ever known has suffered because of him. He just… He just wishes he could be closer. He knows he's not good enough for you to love him or need him and that he never will be, but God, does he wish he was.

[rsatoru]

bbzzzz bzzzzzztttt...

your phone has been buzzing over the coffee table for two minutes. two minutes and 14 seconds.

sigh

you rise from the table—the very table overflowing with godforsaken paperwork the godforsaken higher-ups have assigned you to finish. you’re trying to focus and get everything finished as soon as possible, but the obnoxiously person trying to call you on the phone wouldn’t let you right now.

͏͏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀toruru !! ^_^ (ate ur cookies) (do not answer.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ringing . . . ✆ ⠀⠀⠀ 1:27 pm⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀answer ၊ decline

of course, it’s no other than your idiot of a boyfriend

clicking the answer button, cause who are you to resist him anyways? . . . “satoru.” you say unimpressed. “baby!! :D” the cheerful voice on the other side exclaims.

“aren’t you supposed to be on a mission right now?”

“uhuh,” satoru scoffs, “’m on the same mission you forced me to go because you hate me so much!”

“satoru, sigh it’s your job, your responsibility. you can’t just ditch an order from principle yaga because you wanna stay at home cuddling me.” you respond

“can’t a man just have some quality time with his dearest girlfriend in peace?” satoru whines over the phone

“toru, baby,”

“fine.. :(” oh, you were so sure you could almost hear his smile turn into a frown. that being said, “why’d you call?” asking, looking back over at your unfinished paperwork, oh the higher ups might just beat your ass.

dating satoru means also having to deal with his long phone calls. you’re aware you could easily just hang up on him, but unfortunately for you, sometimes you don’t even realize you got too caught up in the moment. you love him too much, too much you can effortlessly handle his obnoxiously long phone calls—and he doesn’t even talk about anything important or necessary! and you think, maybe, you’re just as down bad as he is for you.

“oh yeah! heh, sorry babe, your voice made my mind go blank.” — “you’ll never guess what kind of technique these so called first grade cursed spirits have!” and he asks you to turn your camera on—in which you did-

revealing a bunch of cats spawning and jumping everywhere “look at the kind of domain expansion this guy has!” satoru was in an innate domain with cats just swarming the area. satoru called you to show he was in an innate domain with cats just swarming the area. because he knew.

“oh my gosh.” you say in shock. staring at whatever is happening in your screen. “toru toru! bring me one! maybe that one or or-” the cats were so cute. you absolutely loved cats. you adored them, each and every one you’ve ever seen. whether they were strays on the street or pampered pets, they were all just so adorable.

because he knew you absolutely loved cats.

these cats though, were aggressive. aggressively cute though—trying so hard to scratch your boyfriend which was impossible, all attacks were effortlessly blocked by his infinity.

“uhhh, uhhh.. no can do sweets. just look at these sly pussies trying to scratch my glorious face! i can’t let them do that to your even-more-glorious face. they’re dangerous! can’t let them hurt my baby.” he responses.

“uhm, no. you’re just rambling satoru. they’d love me.” you retort. satoru was more of a dog person—he doesn’t know such shit about cats. he doesn’t like them. but you teach him anyways; how to properly hold them, what kind food you shouldn’t feed them, etc etc,

and he actually listens.

“no baby! anyways, you know that guy over there? yeah, him. he can create pizza with cursed energy and throw it at me! it’s surprisingly strong to be fair.. but y’know they stand no chance against me.” there goes his ego as always.

“anyways—what kind of pizza do you want? tell me which toppings and i gotchu baby.”

“so you’re telling me, you’d rather get me pizza, imbued with cursed energy, which you say is pretty strong, but not cats?” you hiss, raising a brow over the phone.

“uhhhh... yeah? ( ' ⩊ '𖦹)”

this is so dumb tbh but i jst had pizza for dinner i couldn’t not think about my glorious king

[ponderingmoonlight]

Realizing your true feelings for Gojo after he stands up for you

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...

Warnings: literally wrote this in my break at work so don't come for me lol, fluff fluff fluff, reader getting insulted

Oh, how much you hate the way basically everyone looks at you. Well, not technically you, to be exact. It’s rather the person walking next to you who drowns in attention every time you are forced to go out together.

Not that you’d understand the hype. Gojo Satoru, the blessed one, the honored one, the strongest fucking jujutsu sorcerer of your lifetime.

“What’s wrong? Feeling left out, (y/n)?”

And probably the biggest pain in your ass.

“You’re such a whore for attention it hurts”, you bite back while rolling your shaded eyes the way you always do the second he opens his mouth.

His laughter vibrates through your body, annoys you to the core. When will this madness finally come to an end? When will they finally begin to send you onto missions with Geto, Yu or fuck, even Nanami? Why on earth does it always have to be him?

“Caught me there I guess. But it’s not my fault that I’m easy to look at. Not like you.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath in and out, to calm your tingling nerves and stop your fist from twitching. That fucker has some really good nerves. Only the sound of his name next to you simply drives you insane, let alone his stupid comments and oh too annoying voice. Is there really anything good on Gojo Satoru, something you might like?

“I hate you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Aww, don’t be like that, (y/n). We both know that isn’t true”, he purrs, ready to grab your shoulder when you yank away.

“I’ll break your fucking nose if you touch me, jerk.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

“I’ve never seen you around here.”

The sudden soft female voice that interrupts your rambling catches you off guard.

There she stands, an undeniable beauty with curves in just the right places and blonde hair that looks like strands of gold. The bluest eyes, the most breathtaking smile. And of course, her gaze is fixated on Satoru.

“That’s because it’s my first time here. After all, my eyes definitely wouldn’t have miss someone like you”, he replies with that cheeky grin you know oh too well, the cheeky grin that makes your blood boil in an instant.

Really? This is probably the worst time to start a flirty conversation. You were sent here to detect a special grade curse, to save this damned city from getting scorched. But he? He has nothing but her blonde hair and delicate smile in his pea brain

“Don’t you think that this isn’t the right time for a conversation like that?”, you mumble irritably.

“We’re just having a little talk. Who are you, his girlfriend? I highly doubt that. A girl like you would never have a chance with a guy like him.”

You have to blink a few times when her sugary voice spits at you with pure venom.

It shouldn’t bother you. Why would it? Gojo is the last person walking on earth you’d be in a relationship with, the last person who would ever want you. You, with your average looks. You, being a grade 2 sorcerer who has nothing special to offer. You, who never actually allowed herself to like Gojo. You, who is nothing compared to the woman standing in front of you.

Then why do her words feel like a knife in your heart? Why are you standing there like an idiot, sunglasses barely covering your pain? Why does his presence next to you suddenly sting so badly?

“Pretty disgusting words for someone with that face. Do you really think the world belongs to you because you look good? Let me tell you something: Apart from being hot, (y/n) is also unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic. Someone as simple-minded as you should better avoid me. Now get lost, will you?”

What.

On.

Earth.

Did Gojo Satoru really stand up for you? No, did Gojo Satoru just call you “hot, unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic”? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute. A cruel storm of butterflies almost causes your guts to turn, makes you see stars. Are you dreaming, maybe? This can’t be reality. It’s impossible that-

“Hey, are you okay? I hope you don’t trust that stinky girl”, Gojo speaks out softly.

You can sense the way he eyes you up and down through his sunglasses, the little pout on his face revealing that he’s truly worried. Is that really the boy who teases you until you lose your mind completely? God, how much you hate him, how much you want to punch him into his stupid perfect face.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. But what is that little part of your brain that almost dies in excitement, then? What are those strange butterflies that never invaded you since you joined Jujutsu High?

“Hey, look at me.”

Your eyes dart upwards, get greeted by his bright blue orbs that look down at you in a seriousness you’ve never seen before.

“Tell me you don’t believe her.”

“She said nothing I don’t already know”, you reply dryly.

He shakes his head, still staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Who is this guy? What are those feelings? Why aren’t you able to look away like you always do? Gojo is only playing with you the way he does constantly. His bright blue orbs aren’t to be trust and you know it.

“I would choose you a hundred times before someone like her, (y/n).”

It’s like all life drained from your body, blank eyes staring at him in shock. This really has to be a dream. When was the last time Gojo has been nice to you? Probably never. He constantly teases you, drives you inane, makes you mad, makes you regret your decision to come to Jujutsu High and also…

Makes you feel save, makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel affection.

Affection? For Gojo?

“I…I have to go”, you blurt out so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet while trying to haste away.

He’s only picking on you like he always does. Gojo Satoru, considering a romantic relationship with you? You huff out loud, cheeks redden by the sheer thought of the dumb look you gave him. You aren’t better than the girls you despise so much, after all. He truly managed to wrap you around his finger like everyone else, even though you told yourself over and over to hate him.

What a pathetic jerk you are.

You spin around so fast you almost fall over, only to get caught in a pair of strong arms.

“You don’t believe me”, Gojo notes while keeping you in place.

“Why would I?”, you press out, not daring to look at him once again.

You need to get away from this cursed place, away from the honored one. It’s time to go back to normal, back to hating him with all your heart. Because this is all he is, right? Gojo Satoru is nothing but your rival…right?

“Maybe I can convince you with something else.”

Just when you’re about to protest and freeing yourself, he pulls you even closer and presses his lips against yours.

Time stands still, the lenses of your sunglasses pressing so violently against Gojo’s skin that they crack.

This.

This is the stuff your wildest dreams are made of, a dream you didn’t even allow yourself to think about. If there’s one thing that always seemed impossible to you, it was this. Why would you ever be more than Gojo’s rival, what is the purpose of seeing anything apart from a pain in the ass in him?

This right here.

Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him as well, pull him closer and closer, take in his delicious scent. The sheer feeling of his lips collapsing into yours leaves you breathless, makes your lungs ache in the urge for air.

Until he lets go of you while panting hard, now glowing eyes fixated on you so intimidating that you feel yourself blushing.

“Believing me know?”

“You stained my sunglasses”, you breathe out mindlessly.

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[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Aventurine hc's

At first he hates the realization he's actually falling for someone

It eats away at him every second, this reminder that he's not, and likely never will be, in a great position to just have a normal life...

He's a pawn, always has been, so why would he put someone else through that?

Especially you...

But God if it isn't impossible not to love, to keep his fluttering heart from hoping, yearning for just your warm touch

Just the sight of you is enough, he decides to himself, as if that makes any difference in the end

It's obvious he dotes on you, his teasing remarks and genuine smiles are impossible to miss...

He follows you around in his free time, happily inserting him with a smug little grin, as if it's completely normal to have a IPC executive tailing you constantly

You're entertaining, or that's his excuse

He has to keep you safe, it's not like he trusts any of these other idiots to do it, and getting to watch you huff at him paying for everything is only a bonus

In that stage he enjoys being subtly possessive

You're not his, sure, but seeing you in his hat and sunglasses, or maybe with one of his cute little calling card chips fastened into a necklace, constantly on you...

His arm around your shoulder is enough to denture most people immediately, definitely not looking to get into a scuff with the "loose cannon of a gambler" he's generally seen as

When you're finally together he's not keen on taking his hands off you

Whether it's a light arms around your waist, just securing his spot by your side with an occasional squeeze, or his hand grabbing desperately at your hair as he focuses on pressing a kiss to every inch of your face with steadfast resolve

His favorite thing is just resting his chin on your shoulder, his pretty eyes staring up at yours endlessly

It's the perfect position, of course, arms around you with easy access to your neck, and it usually ends with your face hot to the touch by his intimate little kisses pressed so lovingly to your skin

He does have an appearance to maintain, so self care days where he paints your nails, washes your hair in a joint shower or bath, and drags you out to buy expensive clothes are must

Money is meant to be gambled or spent, it's not for hoarding, and that's abundant obvious by how he throws it around

It's another form of possession, really, seeing you decked out in what he's bought you, it gives him a sense of pride

It's hard for him not to project his childhood fears onto you, too

Like if he notices you're not eating, not drinking enough, brushing off a small injuries

He's seen plenty of people die to all those, and fighting down those blaring alarm bells can be difficult at the best of times

You'll often find a glass of water and small snack with a cute little note when you wake up, if he can't be there himself to make sure your needs are met, and he's expecting a text as soon as you're up to confirm you're fine

Anytime without contact for too long will consume him, gnawing at his insides, eating him slowly until he sees you again

He hates it, it's such a painful disadvantage in his line of work, but god if he can't help it...

He's very quick to scoop you up and pepper kisses to your pulse points immediately after, nuzzling against the physical feeling of your heartbeat and your warmth

He also can't help shaking off the mindset that he's merely a chip, to be used when  useful and discarded after

He knows that's not the case with you, knows it... But it's impossible to not feel a bolt of pure fear when you're unhappy with him, as if his worth is tied to his ability to be perfect for you

Pet names are obviously a must, and you might start to joke he doesn't actually know your real name with how rarely he uses it

You're his "darling love", his "perfect match", and, of course, his "adorable sweetheart"

He'll pout a bit if you don't reciprocate the absurd level of endearments on your end too

He probably won't even respond to "Aventurine" after a while, pretending not to hear you with an unmistakable smile, until you properly address him

He's left wondering how he's ever lived without you, and if he ever could again