#or why it keeps ending with them making out

[secretlovezz]

Whiplash

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: you've been avoiding Eddie like the plague and he's desperate to figure out what he's done to deserve it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort?? idk, kissing, fluffy ending, pining, idiots in love, use of y/n, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader is a crybaby ig idk she reacted how I would soooo, lmk if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 2010

A/N: Not really proofread and kind of written in a rush cause I wasn't feeling it about halfway through so sorry if you can tell 😞

You weren't there... again.

Your absence from your usual seat to the left of Eddie leaves him in a deep state of confusion his eyebrows furrowing in thought. This was the fifth day without your presence at his side, almost an entire week without your voice giddily telling him about the book you were reading or a new recipe you've tried, almost an entire week of being deprived of that perfect little gleam in your eyes when you looked at him rambling about something you enjoyed, and his heart ached in deprivation.

And because of this, he could with full confidence say you were avoiding him- but as to why he had no idea.

Eddie's silent at the lunch table staring at nothing in particular, and though the guys -especially the freshman- had finally learned to normalize Eddie's peculiar-ness and oddities this new silence and bleak aura had them surprised. He was stuck in his head racking through everything that's happened in the last week that could have possibly scared you away from him.

He thinks about the time he asked you for help with his math homework, but that couldn't be it considering that definitely was not the first time he'd asked and definitely was not the first time you'd happily agreed to do so. He reminisces about when he'd come to visit you during your shift at the local library in boredom playfully bothering you as you re-placed books onto the shelf.

He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing comes to mind for your sudden evasion.

"Dude, you think any harder and steam will come out of your ears," Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie, "What the hell's wrong with you anyway?"

Eddie leans back in his chair and dramatically throws his head back to look at the ceiling, his hair flows behind him and moves as people walk by, "She's avoiding me."

Dustin's head snaps up, still chewing his food he inserts himself into the conversation, "Who? Y/N? I just talked to her last period, she seemed fine," He shrugged.

At that Eddies head pops back up, eyes locking with Dustin's in a way that leaves the younger boy cringing, and the crease between his brows intensifies, "So she's still talking to you guys but not me?" He starts to pout a little by the end of his question.

Everyone sends looks to each other before slowly nodding and Eddie's forehead loudly makes contact with the cafeteria table, the guys wince in response.

"Well... have you tried- I don't know, asking her about it?"

The glare sent in Mikes direction after his question almost makes him apologize. Eddie heatedly scratches his head and groans in irritation; he'd tried more than a handful of times to get ahold of you, tried more than enough times to just hear your voice again but nothing worked. When he waited by your locker you would walk the other way, when he called you, you hung up as soon as you heard his voice, and worst of all you would throw out the little notes he sent you in class as you walked out and away from him once again.

"Duh! Of course I have," Eddies reply is laced with annoyance and frustration, "But I can't ask her anything if she keeps running away- I mean come on! She won't even look at me, man." His voice is soft and emotional when speaking his last sentence, He runs his hand over his face weakly and suddenly he feels like he's being pitied. He doesn't want that.

He hastily moves to pick up his things, thrusting the items into his little lunch box with more force than necessary with a pout on his tired face before standing from his seat and angrily walking away across the cafeteria, from the table and the others. They all sigh when he makes it past the cafeteria doors and after a silent moment Jeff is the first who speaks up, "So- When do you guys think they'll get over themselves and finally get together?"

《----------♡

When the last bell rings after what feels like years to Eddie he's swiftly making his way out of class and out of the building, but now what time would usually be spent merrily walking to his car and making plans to see you during the weekend was spent instead making his way into the woods strolling past trees and going to the little picnic table placed in that clearing he visits every once in awhile.

He stares at the ground and his feet as he treads, kicking rocks, stones, and branches on the way.

Eddies just about there just a few trees away from the clearing before he hears footsteps other than his own a little ways ahead of him he pauses head finally lifting to look in front of him and waits to see who appears.

To his surprise you pop into his vision and his round, brown eyes widen. He goes to take a step forward his body automatically and urgently trying to get to you, desperately needing to be near the drug that is you, but he stops himself to observe.

You sit at the table and pull a book out from the satchel bag at your side and a humorous huff leaves through his nose, his face relaxing and lips curling up at the sight of you doing something you often enthusiastically spoke to him about before realizing that its a book he does not recognize, that you had started a new one, and you hadn't told him like you usually would have. The thought wipes the smile from his face in an instant and his brows furrow for the nth time that day.

He steps forward and does not stop himself this time, sauntering toward you almost as angrily has he had left the cafeteria without your knowledge as you are already too engrossed in whatever new story you were traveling into. When he sits across from you at the table you feel it shift with the added weight and at last realize that you are no longer alone.

When you eventually look up, placing your thumb in-between the pages you were reading to keep your place, your heart drops at the sight of the frustrated man in front of you. You try to move away but he quickly grabs your wrist urging you to sit back down, you look at him again and the anguish written on his face makes you find your seat.

Your gaze moves to your lap and Eddie doesn't let you go too afraid you run away again.

Eddie is the one to break the stifling silence, "Talk to me... please?" The sound of his voice makes your heart ache so guiltily it hurts, "Just- Just tell what I did wrong- tell me so I can fix it."

Though your mouth opens to respond nothing comes out and your eyes gloss over with salty tears. Eddie's hold on your wrist moves to your hand gently cupping it in his calloused palm while his thumb moves to continuously swipe over your warm skin.

Your cheeks warm at the intimate contact and it only makes your eyes well with my tears reminding you of why you were ignoring him in the first place.

"When you-," You struggle to get the words out of your closing throat but Eddie still listens patiently, "Last time... you- you did something. It wasn't a big deal to you- but um... to me it- it meant a lot and that's kind of the problem."

The brunette across from you leans in closer and tilts his head in confusion, "What did I do?"

You glance to the side in embarrassment but Eddie's thumb taps you twice to bring your attention back to the conversation, "Talk to me Princess; Tell me what I did so we can go back to normal, I miss my best friend."

You didn't want to go back to normal.

For the first time in days your eyes connect with Eddie's and you take in a shaky breath at the sight of his enchanting eyes. "You uh- you kissed me..."

Now he's confused. He had kissed you? When? He's sure he would remember finally getting to kiss you.

Your free hand travels to your cheek and it all clicks for him, the pieces falling into place. He can't help but let out a chuckle of amusement; you were right- he had kissed you, kissed you on your cheek, that is, a sweet little peck against your skin. His laughter dies out when you rip your hand from his, the tears in your eyes spilling over.

Eddie stands and rounds the table to you, "Hey hey I- I'm I shouldn't have laughed. Don't cry, sweetheart." His hands place themselves on your elbows as your hands move to cover your face. He starts to feel like that little kiss really did more than he had thought.

"Did it make you uncomfortable? I won't do it again I promise," You shake your head at his words, "Talk to me, baby."

"Don't do that! Don't call me those names if you don't mean it," Eddies eyes go wide at your outburst and his mouth opens to speak but you beat him to it, "you- you kiss me and call me those names and I- It's just too much... I like you too much."

All too quickly Eddie is forcefully removing your hands from your face and cupping your cheeks thumbing the tears from your skin, "I like you too much too."

"Don't be mean Eddie."

He connects his forehand to yours, both of your eyes closing at the closeness, "M'not, would never joke about that." His soft pink lips brush gently against yours as he speaks and your breath hitches. Your lips part slightly and your cold breath fans Eddie's face. "How can I show you I mean it hm? How 'bout... a real kiss?" He mutters. You nod all too briskly for someone who was just crying and it makes Eddie smile.

In the fullness of time Eddie presses his lips to yours and when he finally gets the taste of your lips on his he realizes he's waited entirely too long to do this despite being willing to wait an eternity for you. He's been starving for the absolute goddess that is you, now getting to satisfy that hunger digging in with no resistance and sliding his tongue past your lips flushed against him. The ache he had felt without you there fading once and for all as you kissed him back. Your hands atop his squeeze as a noise escapes the back of your throat and Eddie kisses you deeper at your audible reaction. He wants to consume you, wants to keep you so close you never leave his side, he needs it- needs you and makes sure it shows in the way he kisses you.

When he pulls away your both panting for air, Eddie's grin is smug on the top of your head and your arms are wrapped around him.

"I can't believe you made me feel like shit for an entire week just cause I gave you a lil' kiss on the cheek," Eddie mocked trying to get a quick quip in.

"Shut up! It totally freaked me out."

His loud cackle echoed in your ears and you smiled, pulling him closer and pressing your nose into his skin. Eddie's arms moved to wrap around you as well and his large hands snake around you also trying to squeeze you impossibly closer. He presses a fast peck on your cheek, then your temple, and then the top of your head. Eddie takes a deep breath inhaling the scent of you- memorizing it.

"Promise you won't do that to me again. Don't leave me alone like that again."

"I won't Eds, I promise."

"Besides! What are you going to do without me here being oh so entertaining huh?"

You laugh, "I have no idea."

[babyyhoneyyy]

I wanna kiss your neck H.S (pt.3)

He didn’t let up on the kisses, not when her hands held the side of his neck, not when he stroked her cheeks. “And you know I love you so, so much, right?”

”Uh-huh.”

She wasn’t able to get any more words in since he was kissing her so eagerly, and Y/N had to tug him from his hair as her head finally cleared. “You really fucking hurt me, Harry. I feel— felt so used.” Harry’s eyebrows came together downturned, like he was so saddened by her confession. Y/N almost thought he would cry when he swooped his thumbs under her eyes.

“I know, and I’m so sorry, baby,” he said softly, “let me make it up to you? I feel terrible.”

Or,

Part 3 to the one where Y/N and Harry are best friends, but they’ve crossed a big, fat line that says otherwise.

part 1

part 2

word count: 5k+

content warning: mature!! minors please dni!!

Harry called Y/N the next day like everything was normal. Like her entire sense of self-respect wasn’t torn into pieces. Like he didn't rip her heart from her throat and laughed tauntingly at the weak, pulsing muscle. She was dumbfounded on the other end of the phone, trying to keep her composure so she didn’t burst into tears.

In direct contrast to her, he was chirpy and enthusiastic, asking her if they could meet at her house to try out the new cafe they had been eyeing for the past month or so. Of course, Y/N lied and told him she was unwell. The fact of the matter was that she was perfectly fine— still walking, talking, eating and breathing like normal.

Except there was this hole in her chest, gaping and wounded, frayed at the edges which ached every waking second of the day. She hadn’t been able to think straight ever since Harry left her cold and freshly-fucked in her apartment the night before.

After his departure, she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed her body in the shower until it was red and raw; even then it was like she could feel his lingering touches and wet kisses against her skin. The thought of them disgusted her to no end. All she could see in the mirror were the bruises he left behind, the ones she wore on her neck, her hips. Blossoms on her skin that did nothing but remind her of how used she felt.

So she avoided her reflection and went about her day with her head low, afraid to catch a glimpse of herself in any reflective surface in her home. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that her Harry wouldn’t do such a thing, the image of the pretty brunette and Harry’s kiss against her temple flashed in front of her eyes and rendered her hopeless.

There weren’t a lot of people with whom one would take such an intimate photo with. Maybe with a mother, a sister, a cousin, a best friend.

But she knew the girl wasn’t any of those, and a terrible prickly possibility contaminated Y/N’s clouded mind; what if it was a lover?

A lover of whom she had no idea. A lover of whom her best friend never bothered to tell her of. A lover whom he lied about.

A lover whom he probably went home to right after fucking her.

For two weeks Y/N let her exhausted brain work itself to a number of conclusions— overthinking and overthinking and overthinking. A grey cloud loomed over her head wherever she went, covered head-to-toe in the most modest of sweaters and thickest of scarves to cover her story-telling skin. She felt terrible, a weight settling on her chest which consisted not only of his lies and deceit, but of the gnawing reminder that she really fucking loved him.

Harry was her best friend; the boy she grew up with, the one she shared all her secrets with, the one who knew of all her firsts, the one who was loved by all of her family, the one who she spent every birthday and every Christmas with. She could dislike him and she could be mad at him, but she could never hate him.

That’s why when he showed up at her door the following Saturday evening, she took a deep breath, threw away all the tear-stained tissues that littered her coffee table and let him in. A hundred red flags and alarms blared in her head telling her that anything would be better than confronting him right now, but she ignored them all because there was a part of her that yearned to be with him. To talk to him and confide in him.

She was already ignoring all of his texts and letting his calls go to voicemail. All she told him was that she wasn’t feeling well and whatever she had was contagious. Just staring at his words on her screen was enough to have her gut wrenching; texts like are you feeling better? and i miss you when can we hang out again littered their chats, unanswered.

Somehow seeing him appear at her doorstep after so long was a million times worse— he had a frown on his face and his hair was pulled back in a bun. He was dressed in basic grey sweats and a black top and he didn’t bother saying anything as he strolled right into her home with his lip pinched between his fingers. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She was well-aware of her tattered state and his question threw her right into another tizzy. Y/N was tired and overwhelmed from all the crying, a palm coming up to rub her forehead in distraught, “I told you I don’t feel well.”

“Well, you’re lying. I asked Em and she told me you’ve been at work this week, so you’re obviously mad at me or something.” He sounded angry, staring at her intently with his other hand on his hip, “why are you avoiding me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were like fire, seeping into her skin and burning her flesh as he expected an answer from her dishevelled state.

Y/N went to sit on the sofa and cupped her hand over the seam of her hairline. Her skull ached and she needed to find a way to cover her face which would inevitably be covered in sticky tears really soon if the conversation headed where she thought it was headed.

A second passed while she mulled over the question in her head and finally decided to rip the band-aid off in one go. “I want you to be honest with me, Harry.”

The soft tone of her voice caught him off guard as he watched her from the other side of the table, “‘course I’ll be honest, just tell me why you’re not talking to me.” When she looked up at him, her eyes were glistening, “last weekend, when you… when we…” she hoped he would understand what she meant without her having to verbalise the now tainted memory, “um. After that when you got that phone call… it wasn’t Niall, was it?”

Her words were heavy and they suffocated her. Just the fact that she let them past her tongue was enough to have her heart racing, bracing herself for a response. She tried to make eye-contact with him, but the slight downturn of his lips and rounding of his eyes told her all she had to know.

“What… what do you mean?”

“What I mean is you fucked me, Harry, lied to me and left me on that couch to go fuck your girlfriend right after.” Her cheeks became hot with anger as she watched his expression twist into something of confusion, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You lied about the phone call. It wasn’t Niall, it was some girl called Chelsea, who clearly needed you so fucking urgently—“

“—You don’t know what you’re saying—“

“—that you had to leave your best friend, who you just had sex with—“

“—stop it, you’re wrong, you don’t know what you’re saying—“

“—to go and fuck fucking Chelsea—“

“—Stop it, Y/N!”

Y/N fell silent. Scalding tears brimmed in her eyes and his loud baritone echoed in her head over and over and over again. She was practically vibrating with anger. His chest heaved as he took in her wet pupils.

“I didn’t fuck her— shit, I don’t have a fucking girlfriend. How could you… how could you even think I would do something like that? Do you really think that low of me?”

There was this sort of pleading in his voice. A desperation when he saw her parted lips and leaky sockets. The sight of her made his shoulders slump and eyebrows relax. Y/N pressed her lips together, watching him get on his knees before her so they were eye-level. Harry took her trembling hands in his.

“But you… the picture on your phone. You were kissing her.”

“Sweetheart, she’s not my girlfriend. Just some girl Niall set me up with a couple months back, we saw each other for a week before I broke it off. It was nothing special so I didn’t waste my time with you talking about her,” he explained against the skin of her knuckles. A kiss was pressed to the first boney globe of her index finger.

The cogs in Y/N’s mind twisted and turned as she tried to put the pieces together, still wary of his words; but he sounded sincere and honest, and Y/N was a firm believer in letting someone have the benefit of the doubt if the situation called for it.

“We took that picture ages ago. Way before you and I fell into this arrangement. She wouldn’t stop calling me even though I told her I wasn’t interested. I promise that’s all it is.”

Now, Y/N was a fool for Harry.

So when he dropped her hands and instead cradled her face, a very familiar moony look came over her glossy eyes. She felt herself slipping into that mindset again— the one where she was a puppy with a wagging tail for Harry. Where she wanted to believe whatever he told her. Where he was able to mould and bend her however he wanted, like she was a piece of clay and his hands were covered in glaze.

”You trust me, don’t you?”

They were a sinful collection of words designed to make her melt in the palm of his hand; a fruit of manipulation which she happily sunk her teeth into. It was what made her lean into his affections so easily.

He kissed her damp cheek. Her forehead. Then her eyes. Then her nose. Her jaw. Her chin.

Her lips.

It was the first time they ever kissed, painted in warm, salty tears and promises mumbled against worried skin. She sighed in defeat.

“Tell me you trust me.”

Another kiss to her smushed mouth, “tell me, Y/N,” he mumbled, “you believe me don’t you? I love you so much, you’re my best friend.”

a breath escaped her mouth amidst his soft assault, “yes,” she managed to whisper, “yes, mm—“

He didn’t let up on the kisses, not when her hands held the side of his neck, not when he stroked her cheeks. “And you know I love you so, so much, right?”

”Uh-huh.”

She wasn’t able to get any more words in since he was kissing her so eagerly, and Y/N had to tug him from his hair as her head finally cleared. “You really fucking hurt me, Harry. I feel— felt so used.” Harry’s eyebrows came together downturned, like he was so saddened by her confession. Y/N almost thought he would cry when he swooped his thumbs under her eyes.

“I know, and I’m so sorry, baby,” he said softly, “let me make it up to you? I feel terrible.”

Y/N froze at his words, feeling a little hesitant; all she had been thinking about the past week was the picture of that girl and the lie Harry made up so easily. Her mind had mulled over so many possibilities, and she hadn’t anticipated his explanation in any one of her conclusions. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him and still thought he was lying, it was just that the wound he left in her heart was going to take more than a few kisses to heal.

Of course his explanation helped her feel a little more sane, but there was a part of her that told her she shouldn’t let him go so easily— that she should dig deeper and ask more questions: why did he have to leave so urgently after the phone call? Why didn’t he just block the girl’s number if she was being annoying?

But then Harry slid his hand along her jaw and looked at her with his sorrowful eyes… his apology did sound sincere… surely she could forgive him and move on. She just didn’t want her questions to make matters worse; she didn’t want her best friend to think she didn’t trust him, but on the other hand she also valued her own self respect.

It was hard when he was staring at her with his lip between his teeth, begging her to let him make it up to her. It couldn’t hurt to let him, Y/N thought. Maybe it would be good for her. She could go for a couple of hours where she didn’t have to think about anything and could just feel.

Despite her brain telling her she was being irrational and stupid, falling for his sugar-coated words like a fool, her heart wanted to feel safe, and she felt most safe when she was with him.

Maybe that was why she nodded wordlessly and let him kiss her again, before pulling her off the sofa and guiding her to her room. He didn’t let her get too far from him, making sure every inch of her was pressed against every inch of him constantly. Harry had one arm around her waist and one holding her face to angle it up to him, “missed my baby so much,” he mumbled between kisses, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I missed you too,” Y/N sighed. Her arms slithered around his neck.

“M’sorry, Berry.” His kisses progressed down her jaw and her neck, where Harry took his time suckling at her (his) favorite spots and soothing them over with his tongue.

“M’sorry,” he nuzzled into her throat, “m’so sorry, my love.” The hand on her waist fell to her hip and Harry nudged her in the direction of the bed. He let her settle amongst her mound of pillows and stuffed animals and parted her thighs so he could fit between them. It felt so nice to have him close to her again; just his warmth and weight made Y/N feel at ease— something she struggled with the past fortnight.

His touch travelled down her neck, tracing the skin of her collarbones. He looped circles around the soft skin before coming back up to cup her jaw. His eyes never left hers and Y/N watched as he slowly leaned closer to kiss a line from the sensitive curve of her neck to her mouth.

This kiss was much different than the first. Y/N could practically taste the desperation on his tongue as he stroked it along with hers. She was whimpering against his mouth, especially when he pecked her once, twice, and then dug his teeth into her bottom lip.

“I missed this pretty little pussy,” he whispered. Y/N didn’t know when he sneakily brought his hand down to cup her where she was dripping over the fabric, but the contact was electrifying. His fingers pressed deliciously against her clit and he began grinding his hand against her slowly. “Missed tasting her… fucking her.”

He crawled further down her body and withdrew his touch from her cunt, instead focused on getting her top off. Y/N wasn’t wearing a bra so her tits were immediately bare, which did wonders for Harry as he groaned loudly, “fuck,” he cupped both of them, “need you so bad, baby.” He smushed a kiss against the swell of her right breast.

“You have me.” Y/N was barely able to get the words out of her mouth, lost in the sensation of his lips wrapping around her nipple. He suckled and kissed it, flicked his tongue against the bud and grazed his teeth against it all while his other hand slipped up to Y/N’s lips to press two fingers against her tongue. She was gasping and whining against his skin, biting down hard on his two knuckles when Harry began humming against her. The vibrations went all the way down to her heat, making her all the more wetter.

“You’re so fucking sensitive,” Harry said as he let go of her nipple. It was spit-slicked and pebbled. “I bet I could make y’come just by playing with these.” He knew how much his words affected her, and he knew how much she liked it when he gave both her breasts a squeeze. “Y’like it when I suck on them?”

He took his fingers from her mouth to draw lines along the seam of her bottom lip. She met his gaze again, “mhmm. It’s so good, H.” It was hard to finish her sentence, because halfway through it Harry lost patience and kissed her open mouth instead. Her chin was a bit wet because of the way she was sucking on his fingers, but Harry didn’t mind. If anything, he sort of preferred it that way— a little bit messy.

Another suckle to her bottom lip (he really couldn’t get enough), and he left to tend to the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. They were easy to get rid of, her pink underwear following. Harry didn’t waste a beat in parting her thighs wide and staring down at her leaky pussy, “you’re so beautiful, Ber.” He kissed her right knee, then her thigh. She was completely at his mercy before him; naked and needy. She was so wet she could feel it dripping down to the sheets.

A careful finger came to collect her arousal and push it right back inside of her. There was no resistance since she was so hot for him, so when Harry curled his finger against her g-spot, her back arched off the bed and she moaned loudly. His other hand rested on her mound, his thumb just above her clit, but not touching it. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her and not giving any attention to the bundle of nerves.

His thumb pressed into the skin there, tauntingly. “Harry,” Y/N whined, “touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He reasoned as he twisted his finger inside of her. Another joined it shortly. “No, you’re not,” she retorted. Her train of thought was lost as he sped up his thrusts. The tips of his fingers stimulated her g-spot perfectly. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from how she was just swallowing him up, snug and warm around him. He was doing everything which pushed Y/N to the edge apart from giving attention to her throbbing clit.

Y/N gasped when he barely grazed his thumb over the bud, “I thought you were making it up to me!”

Desperation was heavy in her voice and she raised her hips to chase his touch. Harry giggled, “I’m sorry, baby. You’re right,” he kissed her inner thigh.

Finally his thumb moved to her clit and he looped a big circle around it, making Y/N cry out loud. If he kept this up for a few more seconds, Y/N would come around him in no time.

Her thighs pressed tightly against his shoulders, trying to shut amidst the blinding pleasure, though Harry didn’t let her take his treat away. He also didn’t let up on his fingers, pushing and curling and circling until she was lifting off the bed and throwing her head back. The first orgasm of the night was phenomenal as Harry rid her through it, “tha’s it. You look so gorgeous when you come, Berry.”

He pulled his fingers out, drenched and dripping down to his knuckles. Harry wasn’t shy in the way he looked right into Y/N’s eyes and licked his digits. Her eyes widened when he groaned and came up to be face-level with her, and held her jaw tightly. He forced her mouth open and let a line of his spit mixed with her arousal fall onto her tongue.

It was filthy as he proceeded to lather the spit in with his thumb and it was filthy when he cooed at her, “swallow.”

Y/N was always eager to please him, so it wasn’t a surprise when she obediently followed his every command. Harry smiled at her sickly, “good girl,” he praised, “such a dirty little thing.” His hand slipped down to her throat, “but s’just for me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes— only you,” Y/N agreed, and she was rewarded with a hot, wet kiss to her lips. If kissing him felt this good every time, Y/N cursed herself for not trying this out earlier. He was skillful with his tongue, heavily stroking it with hers and moaning against her open mouth. They parted with a loud smack, and Harry got off of her to quickly undress.

Y/N watched hungrily as he tugged his shirt off and stepped out of his pants. His cock was revealed to her, angry and leaking at the tip. He hissed, wrapping a hand around it and tugging slowly. “Fuck me, please,” Y/N begged. She was practically drooling at the sight of him, all toned and 6 feet of him, tall and towering over her. He smirked cockily and climbed over her again, “s’okay, baby, don’t have to ask,” he tsked, “gonna let daddy fuck this needy pussy?”

His words almost made Y/N come on the spot. She moaned out loud and wrapped her arms around his neck, “yes, please.” The honorific did unimaginable things for her and Harry must have sensed it when she began trying to lift her hips and fuck down onto his dick, “I take it you like that, then?” he giggled, giving into her desperation and rubbing her clit with his tip, “mm. S’so good.”

Y/N didn’t even notice when he put a condom on, lost in the feeling of him running one hand across her chest and up her arm, linking their fingers together. He interlocked them and brought their joined hands above her head, holding them there and pushing into her at the same time. Her other hand tightened in his hair, and Harry moaned all deep into her ear. The sound travelled straight down to her pussy, which squelched with each slow, deep thrust he delivered.

His pace was delicious— pressing into all her favourite spots and barely kissing her cervix as he came down to the corner of her mouth and nipped her chin. “So good, Berry, always so good for me,” he said. Her fingers tightened against his. She was arching off of the bed and pressing her tits against his firm chest when he rucked into her, making her push up on the bed, “so good for daddy.” Y/N cried out loud.

A couple more minutes passed of him fucking her like that— skin right against skin, deep, and stimulating her g-spot perfectly. She was already sensitive from her first orgasm, so when he brought his free hand down to her clit and rubbed it through the wetness seeping out of her, she found herself coming around his cock a second time. This orgasm was more intense, and she felt like she would snap in half with the way he had her arching in pleasure, “look at you,” he hummed, “such an angel.”

“Please, please, please, daddy, fuc—“

She was babbling and mumbling, fucked out of her mind when Harry pulled out to reposition the two. He let go of her hand and flipped her over so that she was on her tummy. A sharp smack resounded in the room when he slapped her ass. He kneaded it as it jiggled and pushed into her again, “you’re going to come one more time for me.”

It was a demand that he expected to be fulfilled, forgetting the slow pace he set earlier and now fucking her harder and faster. Y/N felt like she would become a part of the mattress with how forcefully his thrusts moulded her to the bed. He slapped her right cheek, then her left one twice. His other hand travelled up the dip in her back and wrapped around her throat from behind.

The sounds he was making were only making the experience that much better; Y/N squeezed around him whenever he let out a particularly harsh or whiney moan.

His thrusts speedened, signalling he was close to coming, punching into her g-spot with every thrust. Y/N’s eyes struggled to stay open, “please don’t stop, daddy, please,” she begged shamelessly. Harry had a way of reducing her into nothing but a begging mess for him, and somehow Y/N was into it. Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth dropped open as she slipped her own hand down and circled her clit.

Harry whimpered at the sight. “G’na come, I’m gonna come,” she warned him.

The way she squeezed him was enough of a sign to let him know she was seconds from falling apart, “come for me, baby, come all over daddy’s cock. Pussy squeezes me so fucking good, such a good little slut, all for me—“

Praise upon praise tumbled from his bitten mouth as she came for the third time. Y/N was screaming and pulsing uncontrollably around him, and the sensation was enough to make Harry spill into his condom. He threw his head back and gripped her ass, mumbling her name over and over again.

It was like the orgasm was never ending, elongated with the way Harry continued fucking her until she had tears streaming down her cheeks. He took that as his queue to pull out and Y/N shut her thighs, letting Harry flip her over onto her back. Her chest was heaving and her hair was a mess, but he didn’t mind. He pushed some strands back with his clean hand and petted her forehead, then smoothed over her brows and kissed her eyelid, “y’okay, Berry?”

“Mm. You?” Harry giggled, “I’m great,” he kissed her swollen bottom lip. Y/N sighed against his mouth. She didn’t want him to leave her just yet, but then remembered that they were both covered in various juices and fluids and pulled him away with a grip in his hair. “Go get a towel,” she demanded. Harry rolled his eyes playfully, “so bossy. I should be calling you daddy,” he mumbled.

He got off the bed and took off the condom, tied it and disposed of it in the bin before tugging on his sweats. When he left to go get a towel, Y/N was left with an odd sense of deja-vu.

She hoped this time she wasn’t left cold and alone with a bleeding heart and weepy eyes after Harry fucked her. All she wanted was to enjoy this moment of bliss; she didn’t want to think about how things went south this time of the night just two weeks ago.

He came back after a bit and whistled a familiar tune as he wiped her thighs and between her legs. Y/N didn’t notice when he tossed a shirt and underwear her way, but she was grateful for the gesture and put on the garments. Once they were both clean and dressed, Harry dropped next to her on the bed and pulled Y/N to his chest.

He kissed her forehead, “I hope you can forgive me, Ber. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you,” he said. Y/N hummed and traced the swallows on his chest.

“Why did you leave right after the call?” She asked. She didn’t know why she felt scared as she did— she had no reason to be afraid. In fact, she had every right to be asking these questions. Harry owed these answers to her. A part of her was just scared of any outcome that would result in her breaking off her friendship with Harry, so she tried her best to tread carefully.

He snorted, “because, right after I told her off for calling me and blocking her, I actually did get a call from Niall,” he explained, lazily threading his fingers through her hair, “that fucker left the oven on and went to get his dick wet so I had to hurry back to the apartment. Think I broke about thirty traffic laws.”

She laughed at his words and tilted her head up so she looked into his eyes but he was already looking down at her, a soft smile on his pink lips. “I… I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t do something like that. I made you feel like I didn’t trust you.”

“Shh. None of that. Not your fault I was a dick and left you on the couch right after having sex with you,” he retorted. He kissed her hairline again, “don’t have to apologise for a thing.” Y/N nuzzled into his chest, “Uh-oh. That's a big out you're giving me right now. I might abuse it.”

“I don’t mind.”

Her face felt warm against his cool skin and Harry brought a hand down to pinch her cheek, “you’re so cute.” She smacked his chest playfully to which he laughed and brought her leg up over his hip.

A feeling fizzled in her heart— one which bloomed in her chest and wrapped its tendrils around her lungs. It was like a warm hug on a cold day; comforting. Something akin to fondness… except it felt like more. Y/N felt scared as it tainted her, unable to put her finger on it when it was literally right there.

She was afraid to admit it; to say the word that might put a label on the warmth that sprouted inside of her. She was scared because it was foreign. Forbidden. Something she never allowed herself to explore, especially when it came to Harry.

She wouldn’t say it and she wouldn’t think it. The only solution she saw was to lock it into a box and tuck it deep into an alcove in her conscience, wary of it like a ticking bomb that would blow if she spent too much time with it. Y/N ignored the butterflies in her tummy and the heavy feeling in her chest and shifted closer to Harry’s side. He hummed quietly as he caressed her upper arm.

Y/N knew she had to ignore her heart for the sake of their friendship. The last thing she ever wanted was to lose her best friend over some silly feelings she might have.

It was this thought that kept her awake for a good part of that night, shifting restlessly in Harry’s arms. For the first time she found herself questioning her decision to take such a big step with him. All the risks it came with suddenly taunted her, and Y/N prayed to some mighty deity that her actions didn’t translate into stupidity, and she didn’t just set fire to her most treasured friendship.

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[pirateprincessblog]

prefects and t(h)reats

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you haven't been lurking the castle at night since the day you cost your house a lot of points and the slytherin prefect scolded you. long enough has passed, and you might want to start doing that again. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: harry potter universe, slytherin!seonghwa, hufflepuff!reader, smut, bit of angst (seonghwa being a piece of shit(basic slytherin) towards the reader and her friends) 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: spanking, hair pulling, choking, finger sucking, fingering, oral (f!receiving), voyeurism, unprotected sex, semi-public?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: idk, cursing i guess 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: something got fucked in the process of posting this so if you see any repeating paragraphs do let me know my eyes aren't working anymore :D !everyone is of age, regardless of the year they are in. also, i may or may not have a finger sucking kink or whatever you call that :) also, i so did NOT use a twd negan reference here. just ignore that.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"ugh! that snape will be the reason i get sent to azkaban, mark my words! i spent ages trying to perfect that mood colour changing sweater, and he just confiscated- wait, what?"

"what, what is it?"

"did our bloody house points get deducted again?"

just your luck, you need to pass by them to get to your next class. you wish you had perfected the disillusionment charm, it would be very helpful right now.

"you."

ignoring the voice that speaks clearly to you, you hug your books to your chest and quicken your pace, attempting to ascend the stone stairs and vanish into the divination classroom. suddenly, your elbows are seized by two familiar pairs of hands, drawing you back to stand before the house points display. indeed, the hourglass under the hufflepuff banner is noticeably less full than it was just the day before. and it may or may not be your fault. again.

"listen to me, honeydukes." wayne, your fellow housemate warns.

"don't call me that!" you still struggle to understand how you acquired that nickname, especially since you rarely visit honeydukes these days. that habit faded after your teeth nearly succumbed to decay from all the cotton candy and chocolate frogs.

"if you keep this up, you are going to be the reason i end up in azkaban. got it?" he points a finger at your face, causing you to stumble back.

"you have a week to get at least twenty points back. if you don't..." the other one, justin, also points his finger at you, "...i'll make your remaining years at hogwarts miserable. we are the lousiest house anyway, why do you have to make it worse?"

"yeah, what do you even do to make us lose house points?"

"i bet she pisses off prefects."

"or bothers professors outside the class, the know-it-all."

"i don't care if you have to duel harry potter himself, you'll get those points back."

"and when you do, you'll get double and triple that, and make sure we win this year."

"it is only fair, since you're costing us so much."

with each accusation hurled at you, you retreat, hoping to flee the verbal attack before tears betray you and worsen the situation. a high pitched noise invades your ears, drowning out their voices. so intent on avoiding their accusing fingers, you fail to notice the brink of the top stair until your foot falters and balance is lost. you gasp, eyes shut, bracing for the impact of cold stone against your skull.

"levioso!"

yet it never comes. your body is stuck in the air, right above the stairs. all the noise and fuss has left the main hall, resulting in you being too scared to open your eyes.

"accio."

but you are forced to open them, ears picking up quiet murmuring, mainly coming from girls. your eyes meet dark brown ones, stone cold with a serious expression. his black swirly wand is directed at you, levitating your body through the air until you're brought back to the top of the stairs. you finally regain control of it, hands hurriedly fixing the robe and covering yourself.

"you fools." he speaks, eyes not leaving yours.

your lip trembles, and eyes well up with tears. park seonghwa is the one person you do not wish to anger and disappoint. your admiration for him hasn't stopped growing since the day he came to this school. park seonghwa, the slytherin prince. slender frame, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, plump lips, dark eyes, and an immpeccable posture. he walked the castle with such grace, his cloak following him and flowing in the air behind him. whether it was magic or not, you found yourself utterly captivated, not just by his cloak, but by his very essence. he was, in a word, beautiful.

"i'm- i'm sorry-" you stutter, the sentence not yet formed in your brain. is this really how your first encounter with him will go?

"you absolute fools." he turns around, facing the two boys.

wayne and justin are now the ones stumbling back, audibly gulping. "we're sorry, seonghwa."

"all that over house points?" seonghwa scoffs in disbelief, "well, guess what? you just cost your own house fifty points."

the entire great hall gasps, not used to seeing the prefect this enraged and stern. he avoids public confrontations, curious eyes and gossipy mouths, always opting to pull the troublemakers aside to scold them. he also mostly deducts five points, ten at most. but fifty?

"show is over. go to your classes." he orders to the crowd, and they waste no time in continuing their journey to their classrooms.

overwhelmed by the unfolding situation, you find yourself unable to move. your gaze fixes on seonghwa's polished black shoes, unsure of your next action or words. your first encounter with him wasn't supposed to unfold this way. you intended to sweep him off his feet, exuding confidence and the like. embarrassing yourself and struggling to hold back tears while avoiding his gaze was never in the plan.

"hey, honeydukes. are you alright?"

"i'm fi- honeydukes?" you look at him, brows furrowed. "you know about that nickname?"

he tilts his head, chuckling. "i gave you that nickname."

"you... you gave me that nickname?! do you have any idea how freaking annoying it is..."

"okay, calm down now."

"...to be called that all day every day? even when i've stopped visiting that bloody shop..."

"listen to me."

"...it's haunting me! how dare you?!"

your protest is silenced as he steps closer, cradling your jaw in the palm of his hand to lift your face towards his. the way his dark eyes look down on you makes you feel small and fragile, only being safe because he's holding you. you swallow hard, lips pressed tightly together, not yet trusting yourself to speak.

"i gave you that nickname when i first saw you. in hogsmeade, at honeydukes. i had never seen anyone eat cotton candy so cutely, and nobody would tell me your name until recently i heard it myself. so you became honeydukes. not my fault the rest heard it from me and decided to make their own version of it."

"still..." you are stubborn, not willing to let go so easily.

"tell you what..." he reaches into his pocket, taking out something shiny. you notice it is one of those wrapped chocolate balls, and coincidentally your favorite flavour. "accept this as an apology, and stop sneaking around the library at night. you're going to cost your house more points. and us prefects our sanity."

"a candy? you're bribing me?" you scoff.

he chuckles, then puts one end of the wrapper between his pearly white teeth, while his other hand still holds your jaw. he tugs at the opposite end of the wrapper, loosening it and making the treat more accessible. letting the wrapper drop to the ground, the shiny chocolate appears all the more enticing between his slender fingers.

"open up for me."

lips slowly peeling open, you allow his slender fingers to slip past them and place the treat on your tongue.

"that's a good girl." he purrs, eyes focused on the way your tongue swirls around the chocolate and his fingers. he takes them out, and catching you by surprise, puts them inside his mouth. "well, then. you better get to class."

you nod, gulping and hugging your books to your chest. not knowing what to say to that, or what to say at all, you turn around, ready to get to your next class. but he stops you once again, playfulness evident in his voice.

"and i mean it. stop sneaking around the castle at night. not that i hate other forms of punishment, i don't think it's something you'd enjoy. besides, you need sleep, especially with the upcoming exams."

"okay."

"what? didn't quite catch that."

"yes, sir!" you yell, annoyed and already running up the stairs, almost tripping on your cloak.

"atta girl." seonghwa smiles proudly, walking in the direction of his next class.

you used to love hogsmeade. then you hated it. now, you love it again. winter has wrapped the village in a festive mood, with christmas just around the corner. streets are dripping with decorations, lights and christmas trees. enchanted instruments are singing songs on the street, people are rushing to buy presents already, and hermione and ron are bickering as always. harry walks by your side, mesmerized by the amount of lights decorating the balconies of the villagers.

"we always go get stupid butterbeers. let's try something else for once!" the girl complains, growing sick of the habit the four of you have formed when arriving at hogsmeade.

"yes, but... it's butterbeer. what else is there to try?" the ginger says, opting for the simple routine.

"merlin, i don't know! just- ugh. what do you say, honeydukes?"

ever since you told them about the incident at the great hall, they've called you nothing but that. you don't hate it anymore. if anything, it reminds you of the slytherin prefect every time you are called. and you don't hate that either.

"i think..." just as you are about to agree with hermione, your eyes notice a group of slytherins entering the three broomsticks. thus, "...ron is right. i mean, butterbeer is butterbeer."

"so bland. fine, let's go."

upon entering, you realize that you have to fight your way to the seats. it is crowded, as though all of hogwarts has chosen the same time and place for drinks. ron is stubborn, tugging hermione, who tugs you, who tugs harry. the wizard chain somehow makes it through the singing and dancing crowd, reaching the end of the tavern and big table where you usually sit. only to find the place occupied.

"hey, that's our seats!" ron complains, pointing at the slytherin boys.

"oh, no. how dare they take our unassigned assigned seats?" the girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"go on, honeydukes. say something."

you look at the boy who remained silent until now, confused. "me? why me?"

"well, it's your little boyfriend sitting there. maybe he'll listen to you."

"harry-!" before you can protest, you are nudged in front of the table, prompting all the boys at the table to halt their conversation and turn their heads to look at you. seonghwa raises an eyebrow, amused.

"what is it, half blood?" draco snickers, glancing over at seonghwa for approval. but when seonghwa doesn't acknowledge him, he settles down, hiding behind his half full glass of butterbeer.

"uh, my friends and i... we were just wondering..." you look behind at the three of them, who stand waiting politely as if you were their mother arranging a play date. "...if you could scoot over and let us have one side of the table? since it is a sharing table... and there's only four of us... and four of you. or not. i mean, if you want to. if you don't, that's fine. i'm not ordering you, i'm just... actually, we don't need it. sorry for bothering you. we'll leave now."

you turn around, cheeks and tips of ears ablaze with embarrassment. the trio looks at you with mouths open wide, wondering just what the hell happened to you.

"what the bloody hell was that?" ron says, eyebrows furrowed.

"i-"

"honeydukes?"

your body responds to his voice immediately, turning around and eyes locking into his. he smiles at you, then waves towards the seats that are now empty.

"ah, sweet!" harry cheers, and the two boys throw their belongings on the chairs and rush to the bar to order.

hermione takes a seat first, choosing a spot as far from them as possible. this leaves you with only one option: the chair next to blaise zabini, the boy who, after Seonghwa and Draco, had the most admirers. he doesn't acknowledge you, nor does anyone else, until you start gossiping with hermione and she abruptly stops mid-sentence.

"he's looking at you."

"what? who is?" your head starts to turn itself before thinking, but hermione is quick to slap your arm. "ow!"

"don't look! that prefect, seonghwa. he's looking at you so intensely. it's scary."

"like, scary scary or hot kinda scary?"

"well, i-" she stutters, not yet used to being this open with anyone yet. "the latter."

the boys arrive, ron holding the drinks and harry holding bowls of snacks. they almost throw them on the table, and ron doesn't even wait to sit before taking a big sip of his drink. harry digs into his loaded chips, not intending on offering anyone a bite or two.

the conversation at the other end of the table ceases, causing ron to set his glass down and harry to stop trying to fit the entire bowl into his cheeks. you look at both ends, the situation looking funny, especially with hermione looking embarrassed next to you. the slytherin boys exude sophistication, taking delicate sips of their drinks, sharing a bowl of spicy chili treats, conversing in hushed tones, and maintaining an overall neat and respectful demeanor. the gryffindor boys are a complete contrast; ron with his butterbeer moustache, harry with sauce smeared on his cheek, both flushed and almost reeking of sweat already.

"wufnt sum?" harry says with his mouth full, nudging his half empty bowl towards the other group.

they all look at the prefect, as if he decides whether they can have some or not. "no, thank you, potter. you seem to be enjoying it too much for me to take it away from you. i'd feel bad."

 the groups snickers, and something twitches inside of you. seeing the prefect's cocky and arrogant smile, your interest in him falters. he's no longer looking at you, not even sparing you glances. entertaining his group and bullying the gryffindor boys seemed to be way more interesting. and you've had enough of it.

"so... nice moustache weasley."

"right, we get it." you almost yell, causing them to stop and turn their heads at you. "you're all so smart, and perfect, and purebloods, and we are just laughing stock. i don't need to listen to this, and neither do they."

"oh, feisty." draco comments, earning a glare from seonghwa.

"right, honeydukes. i apologize for my behaviour." the dark haired slytherin smiles at you, but your face stays the same.

"it's not me you should be apologizing to."

"are you dense? how dare you talk to him like that?" the young boy doesn't give up, wanting to fight you no matter what.

"malfoy, sit back." seonghwa says, putting a hand on draco's chest. "potter, weasley. i apologize for my comments."

"'s alright."

"yeah, no worries." they mumble, gazes locked on the table.

awkward silence swallows your corner of the tavern, with the people only staring at the middle of the table and only breathing. seonghwa then slides the untouched bowl of chili treats in the middle, causing the group to look at him.

"how about a game? you know, that muggle one, never have i ever? for each thing that you did, you need to eat a handful of these. you in, gryffindor?"

eager to prove themselves, they straighten their clothes and backs, and focus. hermione sits back, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest. ron nudges her with his elbow, and she rolls her eyes and joins in.

"hufflepuff?" the dark eyed boy tilts his head.

"sure, whatever."

"alright, then. game on."

it starts with innocent questions, such as cheating on exams and gossips. then, it progressively gets more serious and more...

"never have i ever made out with someone in the astronomy tower?"

sexual.

you are not shocked to see that blaise and seonghwa are taking a handful of the spicy treats, but your jaw drops when ron and hermione do the same, exchanging a single glance before blushing and shoving the handful in their mouths. harry shares his surprise with you, jaw equally hanging.

"well, well. little miss granger." seonghwa teases. "good job, ron boy."

"never have i ever... done more than dry humping in an empty owlery?" harry surprises the table with his question.

"what?! you've done that?!" hermione is almost in his face, surprised how she didn't know this about her best friend.

"i might've..." the chosen one smiles, wasting no time in burning his tongue with the treats once again.

your side of the table seems to retreat after that question, the slytherin boys asking about things you didn't ever think of. things that would have dubmbledore kick you out of the school, through the very same astronomy tower everyone seems to mention. the game eventually grows into a conversation, discussing who their favorite partner was, what their most risky situation was, and who they have an eye on recently.

"what about you, honeydukes?" blaise asks, using seonghwa's nickname for you. it just doesn't hit the same.

"what about me?"

"nothing to share? no risky business, no partners, no bad sexual experiences? i mean, have you had any experience at all?"

"of course i have. i'm not a virgin, if that's what you're implying. i've had more bad ones than good ones. having me jerk someone off under the desk while learning about amortentia wasn't exactly my cup of tea."

"oh, you poor thing." draco coos, mockingly.

they all eventually let go, and when you realize that seonghwa hasn't made a comment about you in a while, you look at him. he is already observing you, his expression unreadable. his eyes roam your face, then your hair, and finally your clothes. you feel small under his intense gaze, and you find yourself squirming on the wooden chair. when his eyes catch yours, he blinks, then looks away.

after a morning of intense studying, practicing flying, and rushing to hogsmeade for potions supplies for the exam tomorrow, you end up sleeping the entire afternoon. when you wake up, it is dark. you hate wasting days, especially because winter ones are so short. you haven't done anything fun for yourself these few weeks, only studying and avoiding the slytherin prefect.

he might've noticed, or perhaps not. you've noticed a few glances here and there, but the hogsmeade encounter made your feelings for him fade. it wasn't a major crush after all, just simple admiration. maybe liking. regardless, he doesn't get in your way. meaning, it might be safe to have one of those late night adventures through the castle. your disillusionment charm has improved, and you'll finally put it to good use.

wearing nothing but your yellow sleeping attire, you slip out of the dormitory and head to the library. the ghosts don't bother you, even if you didn't cast the charm yet. they must've found another victim, especially peeves. that bastard.

no prefect in sight either, which makes you wonder if you're really being that subtle and successful in your late night escapade. perhaps they're toying with you, letting you reach the doors of the library just to stop you and punish you.

yet, it doesn't happen. not when you reach the door, not when you slip past them, and not when you reach the restricted section.

"lumos." you chant, then put the handle of the wand between your teeth so you can see the shelves better.

how sad, you think, sneaking out at night only to come to a library.

mid book browsing, you hear footsteps. hurriedly twirling your wand around yourself, you cast the charm, and crouch.

"nox," you whisper, the wand no longer emitting light from its tip.

the footsteps get closer, with faint whistling being heard. whoever it is, they're either completely oblivious, or they're just keeping you at the edge before revealing themselves.

"little pig, little pig..." the voice sings, and you gasp.

the slytherin prince himself roams the library's forbidden section, each footstep sounding closer to you. you get on your hands and knees, crawling among the shelves in search for a way out. but from this perspective, everything looks different. after all, this isn't your usual view.

"let," step, "me," step, "in."

a hand grabs your hair from behind, pulling your head back just enough to make you yelp. the disillusionment charm wears off, and you groan, defeated.

"well, well. if it isn't the innocent little hufflepuff. no wonder i've been craving sweet since i entered the library."

"will you let go of me?"

"oh, sure thing." he softens his grip, giving you just a taste of freedom before yanking your head again, "what's the magic word? you know, that muggle one?"

"please, please!" you yelp, hands wrapping around his wrist in hopes of convincing him to let go.

he does, then steps back to give you space so you can get up. fixing your sleepwear, you fail to see his amused grin as he stares at you. when you finally look up at him, he has his usual prefect serious face on.

"now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"sorry, it won't happen again." you should tattoo that on yourself next time you're in muggle world, it comes like a good morning to you. "i'll see myself out."

"oh, no, no." the man stops you, grabbing your elbow. "you don't get away with a sorry. not anymore. remember what i said last time?"

"uh... something about different forms of punishment?" you remember.

"that's right. good girl." his voice seems to drop a few octaves, causing you to subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. "now, how many?"

"what?"

"how many?"

"how many what?"

"spanks, sweetheart."

"you're-" you choke on your spit, "you're going to spank me?"

"oh, would you rather lose points? again?" he tilts his head, fake worry painted on his features.

"well, no, but-"

"deducting points doesn't seem to work on you anyways. i'll have to try a different approach. usually works." he steps towards you, making you step back.

"usually? you uh... you spank other people?" you dare ask.

"why?" he continues his slow steps.

"just asking."

"jealous?"

"why would i be?"

"i don't know." he shrugs, then looks around checking for intruders. "a little bird told me you have a crush on me."

your back hits the shelves, and you gasp. he stops in front of you, still maintaining a small distance. you stutter, not knowing what to say. do you have a crush on him?

"i certainly don't."

"oh." he furrows his eyebrows, "you sure?"

"yes." your voice comes out raspy, and you clear your throat. "yes, absolutely."

"honeydukes?"

"yes?"

"are you trying to convince yourself, or me?"

"i don't have a crush on you, seonghwa." you try to sound as convincing as possible.

"good. then, this interaction won't have any side effects besides teaching you a lesson. now, how many?"

you want to say a small number, like two or three. but if it happens to feel good, you won't have the guts to ask for more. oh how foolish, how can spanking be good?

"tick-tock, hufflepuff. if you don't decide, i will for you. and trust me, you do not want that."

he isn't touching you, hell, he isn't even looking at you. yet he has power over you like nobody ever had before, making you stand still against the bookshelves and wait for his instructions.

"ten," you simply say.

"ten? not one, two?" seonghwa is surprised with your answer, figuring you'd choose a smaller number.

"i didn't think you'd accept one or two. or would you?"

"smart girl. no, i wouldn't. now, what was your favorite subject again? charms, herbology?"

"dark arts," you reply, catching him off guard once again. of course he didn't see it coming. you're sneaking out to go to a library, you're a hufflepuff for merlin's sake, and you stand here in front of him, looking up at him with those wide innocent eyes of yours. who would guess dark arts?

"well, then," he swirls his black wand around both of you, turning you invisible once again, "lead the way, honeydukes."

and you do, having him follow you all the way to the defence against the dark arts classroom. you'd be lying if you said nervous sweat hasn't washed you over three times by the time you reach it. when the door closes, it's like time stops. this is it.

"won't umbridge hear? what if she's still in her office?" you whisper.

"muffliato." he simply casts, sparks flying between the desks, up the staircase at the end of the classroom, and through the doors of umbridge's office. "go on."

you keep walking, all the way to her desk. seonghwa plunges on the comfy professor's chair, then motioned for you to step closer. you barely step close to him, and he pushes you over his lap, causing you to squeak unintentionally. you hold onto his thigh, the position not the most comfortable one.

"count." the slytherin prefect demands.

his big hand lands on your bottom, making you jolt. "one."

his other hand rests on the small of your back, keeping you still so you stop squirming. only three more spanks later, you're already shuffling uncomfortably.

"two, three, four," you say, voice slowly cracking.

"but i'm barely halfway there yet, my hufflepuff princess. don't break on me just yet." he coos, voice soft and comforting, a great contrast to his actions.

you sniff, hand hurriedly wiping a tear that threatened to escape. seonghwa doesn't halt, even if he saw that. instead, he spanks you harder and harder, sparing no inch of your skin of the burning sensation.

"five, six, seven." you shudder, bracing yourself for more. only three more.

"almost there, sweetheart. you're doing so good for me." his other hand caresses your hair, removing it from your face and letting it fall aside. seeing you all teared up and flushed, something new sparks inside of him. "so pretty."

he can't help himself, his hand abusing your sore bottom, exceeding the amount that you both agreed on. you keep counting, not asking him to stop. he lands a final one, deciding it is enough once you let out the first cry.

"t-twenty," you sob, hiding your face in his black slacks.

when his hand touches your bottom again, you expect it to be another hit. instead, his hand caresses it, helping to soothe the pain. it lasts mere seconds, before you feel him raise the top of your pajama, then pull on the bottom. he exposes your red bottom to the cool classroom air, and you can't help but whine at the loss of contact.

"you did so good, my love." seonghwa coos, fingers running through your hair as he waits for you to collect yourself.

once you do, you realize that the burning sensation isn't only on your butt cheeks. you also feel it between your legs, briefs soaked with arousal.

"did you learn the lesson?" his hand finds its spot under your chin, raising your head so he can look at you properly.

"yes." you say, failing to maintain eye-contact with him. maybe it's the guilt, or maybe simply the way he looks at you. either way, you opt to stare at his perfectly ironed and buttoned up prefect attire.

"want me to make it feel better?"

you shrug, not quite sure what you wanted anyway. his hand slips from under your chin to your neck, catching you off guard, his fingers squeezing the sides of it. he presses lightly into your skin, the other hand adjusting your bottom so that it is higher up and your core easily accessible. a moan escapes your lips, feeling his digits find your clit so easily.

"oh, you poor thing. you're absolutely soaked. is that why you're crying? not from the pain, but from lack of attention?"

when you don't reply, he only chuckles, pressing into your neck more.

"i'll take good care of you, honeydukes."

he moves your briefs aside, digits circling your clit softly, before slipping into your aching hole. you bite into the fabric of his pants, but he stops you, instead offering his finger to bite on. he still holds onto your neck with his thumb and the rest of the fingers, his index finger popped into your mouth to muffle any noise you have to offer him.

hearing your own hole squelch as his fingers pump in and out of you makes a new rush of arousal wash over your folds. his fingers are long, very long. he curves them, spreads them, then removes them from your hole, only to spread your slick all over your clit and abuse it.

you're a drooling mess on his lap, eyes turning back at the pure pleasure he is gracing you with. your hips hopelessly push back, looking for anything to fill you up. he notices, removing his hand from your core, before standing you up and pushing you to sit on the desk. with a single motion, he shreds your briefs to bits, stuffing them into his pocket and attaching his mouth to your aching core.

you fall back on the desk, head hanging from it and overlooking the empty classroom. your brain creates various images for you as seonghwa's hot tongue swipes across your folds, imagining the classroom full of students as seonghwa feasts on you in front of them. were you weird for that?

"not at all, princess."

"stop reading my mind, prefect." you tug on his hair, a form of punishment for intruding your thoughts.

"can't help it, not when you're dripping all over my face."

his fingers find their way into your clenching hole again, curling upwards and finding a spot nobody ever had before. a moan escapes you, echoing through the classroom, and your other hand pushes seonghwa's head further into your cunt.

he chuckles against you, his own hands holding your thighs so you don't suffocate him. you feel yourself inching closer, hips desperately grinding on his mouth and nose, eager to feel a proper orgasm. he pulls away once again, making you whine and groan.

"my, i've spoiled you." he raises an eyebrow, amused at the glares you're sending him. he stands up, working on his zipper. he doesn't take his pants off, deciding to keep his prefect uniform on. it only makes the situation hotter, your brain finally realizing just what you're doing.

you're messing with a prefect, in the middle of the night, in a classroom, right under a professor's nose.

"kiss me." you ask, voice small. red paints your cheeks; you wanted to sound more confident than that.

"you want to taste yourself on my tongue, princess?"

"yes, please."

"since you asked so nicely."

he helps you stand again, hands firm on your waist, and lips finally attached to yours. your arms wrap around his neck, hungrily bringing his body closer to yours. you indeed taste yourself on his tongue, seonghwa not wasting a second in pushing through your soft lips in search for your hot muscle. the sound of kissing echoes in the classroom, the setting hotter than your wildest dreams. seonghwa is a dreamy kisser, making you feel wanted, hot and appreciated at the same time. his lips never leave yours, not even when your fingers tangle in his hair and pull at it with ecstasy. he only moans softly into your mouth, giving you a wave of confidence.

your hand slides down his chest, to the button of his pants, and finally to the zipper. you reach into it, pulling his hard cock out, before giving it a few slow pumps. he sighs into your lips, pulling away for a few moments. his forehead rests against yours, his body falling in control of your one hand. your thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the slick and spreading it over him. his hips rock with your hand, whines and moans deliciously filling your ears. it feels powerful to have him tremble in your hands, desperate and yearning for your touch and attention. this must be what he feels on a daily basis. and it must feel fucking amazing.

"you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases, and you tease back by squeezing his cock. he gasps, but chuckles regardless. "you're just a little brat, waiting to be stuffed like a bad girl. i know it."

with a swift motion, seonghwa turns you around, your still clothed tits pressing against the hard wooden desk and head pushed on the side. he slides into you without warning or teasing, so easily and perfectly. he wastes no time in holding your hips still, smashing his own into you and burying his cock deep in your hole. your walls swallow each inch he offers you, having both of you moan and groan at the pleasure.

"fuck-" he curses, eyes planted on the place where the two of you connect. "fuck, honeydukes- you're going to be the death of me."

"do you- ah!" he snaps his hips into yours once again, each thrust more forceful than the other, "do you do this with others sneaking out at night?"

"i knew you were jealous. so you do have a little crush on me?" he chuckles breathlessly.

"maybe. and maybe." you groan, hands gripping the edges of the desk.

"no, baby. i don't. you're the only one whose cunt i'm going to fill up, again and again. until you've learned your lesson properly."

it is your turn to chuckle now. "if this is your form of punishment, i might start sneaking around while you're on duty more often."

"oh, my hufflepuff princess. if you want me, you can have me any time you want. all day, every day. all you have to do is ask."

the conversation stops, as do his hips, when the doors on top of the stairs open.

"who's there?"

you try looking back at seonghwa, eyes full of fear. his cock twitches in your hole, the riskiness of the situation arousing to him.

"hush, love." he whispers, hand pushing your head down against the cold wood again.

his hips start moving gently, slowly stretching your hole again. you're in shock, not believing that he'd actually continue as the professor walks down the stairs in her own sleeping attire. her eyes skim over the room, trying to find anything unusual. but the silencing spell seems to be working, just like the disillusionment one, making umbridge unaware of your presence. a very... lewd presence.

"merlin, i can't take it anymore. i'm sorry, love."

not giving you a chance to ask why he's apologizing, you soon learn as his hand pulls your hair back and his other one grips your bruised bottom. his hips snap into yours with speed and accuracy, hitting the right spots and bringing you closer to release.

"seonghwa-" you moan.

"yes, love?"

"i want-" you moan again, then beg, "i want to see you, touch you."

he pulls away, helping your limp body in a different position. the professor is ignored, even when she comes dangerously close to the desk. it sends a new wave of arousal to your core, just in time for seonghwa to slide into you again.

"look at that," he sighs, looking at your belly.

you follow his gaze, seeing the outline of his cock on it. your hands bring his head closer so you can kiss him, with equal hunger as before. he continues pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm.

"right, there better not be anyone. i'm not in the mood for any tricks!" umbridge threatens, causing both of you to chuckle into each others mouths.

"this is kind of hot," you admit.

"as much as it is, i want her to go away as soon as possible. i just can't cum when i see her face."

you laugh, glancing at the professor one more time. as if she heard, she listens, angrily stomping upstairs and slamming the door shut.

"uh, speaking of temperatures, i know this is crazy, but i am feeling a bit chilly." you admit, the winter air entering the classroom and hitting your naked skin. after all, you were only in your thin sleepwear, having heavy covers on your bed that kept you warm. seonghwa wastes no time in taking off his prefect cloak, helping you put it on and planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you look beautiful in green, my pretty hufflepuff."

blush paints your cheeks, his scent enveloping you and sending a fresh batch of butterflies to your stomach. you never noticed it before, but he smells of forest moss and after rain stone, with a hint of potions ingredients. it is intoxicating, entering your organism and threatening to never leave.

"oh, merlin," seonghwa throws his head back, lost in pure pleasure as your hole swallows him, the outline of his cock on your belly adding to it all and helping him get closer to his goal. "fuck- fuck-"

he's absolutely dashing, a thin layer of sweat shining on his face and making his dark locks stick to his forehead. his lips are plump from you biting and sucking on them, slightly parted and letting out little gasps and moans. he unbuttons the first few buttons of his uniform, not having a problem with the cold. you're a moaning mess, just like him, completely letting go of every thought you had until now, simply giving yourself to him and admiring him.

you feel full of him, and just when you thought you couldn't feel fuller, seonghwa hisses, spilling his load in you and creating more squelching sounds as he rides out his orgasm, pushing in and out of you sloppily.

it doesn't take long for you to reach your own, the knot in your stomach exploding as his tip slams mercilessly into your soft spot, making you grip his arms, shoulders, hair, anything you could reach. he works you through your high, not missing a single face or sound you make.

you're exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. the recovery lasts longer than usual, seonghwa having wrecked you inside out. his hands gently remove your hair from your face so he can take a good look at you.

"you're good, love. breathe." he coos, caressing your cheek and blowing into your face to cool you off.

"thank you," you blurt out.

"what for?" the slytherin prefect laughs at your innocence.

"i don't know. this, i guess. i've never enjoyed sex, always saw it as a chore. and i never felt desired, just objectified."

"well," the dark haired slytherin pecks your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, "you don't have to worry about that anymore. i've never desired anyone the way i desire you, and i think i just proved it to you how much. you don't have to fear those things with me anymore."

"park seonghwa, are you subtly asking me to be your girlfriend?" you shyly ask, knowing that you might be wrong and embarrass yourself in front of him. to your relief, he pecks your lips once again.

"perhaps. only if you want to. if not, then i'm not asking."

"perhaps i want to."

"perhaps that makes me happy."

"you're crazy." you laugh, and he joins.

seonghwa does one more thing no other partner has ever done for you; he helps you get cleaned, then dressed, and walks you to the doors of your common room.

"if you do decide to sneak off again, please do let me know. wouldn't want other prefects to find you and steal your heart."

you nod, and with a longer kiss, finally part ways with him. he waits until you finish your usual rhythmic tapping on the barrels, until the doors open, and finally, until you disappear into your common room and back to the dormitory.

you notice the sun already rising, and hurry to jump back in bed.

"excuse me? is that a slytherin cloak on you?"

you freeze in your tracks, the cloak ready to slide off you and hide under your pillow. the girl on the bed to your left doesn't give up, now sitting up and staring at you wide eyed.

"and a prefect one too?!" the voice on the right joins, waking up the rest of the room and bringing attention to you.

fuck.

taglist: @hongthoven @itza-meee @onedumbho3 @chngbnwf @mxnsxngie @yunhowooyo @m3chigo @trivia-134340 @sanniesaur @shiningpaint-marbleheart @hyphenen @iweirdthingsblog @moonm1st @hwxbibi @jjoongstar @dawn-iscozy @callmeagardengnome @arson1893 @n1k1mura @ishz @hwa-stars @prettyjewel93 @hongjoongsprincess @fireseo @milkandoranges @kibs-and-bits @kitten4sannie @yuujismom @dianadiaries @teawithcherrypie @morethingsfandom

[aperrywilliams]

My Lover Boy (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Request: "Can you write something super angsty, like the reader and Spencer have something going on, but technically, they're just friends, and then everything with Lila Archer happens? She's sad but tries not to show it to him, and he is mad at himself for getting with Lila. Derek is teasing him, and it's super angsty, but it all ends up okay."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You think something is going on with Spencer, something beyond friendship. But you start to question it when a case in LA pushes Spencer to spend time with Lila Archer.

Word Count: 4.6k

TW: Angst with a happy ending. Use of some strong words. Some suggestive comments. Mention of having sex. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Thanks for the request! Keep sending them to me.

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"Hey, did you get something?" You ask Spencer when he returns to the precinct. He and Gideon were at a gallery open to obtain information for the case you are working on in LA.

Spencer shrugs. "Not really. They all were more interested in photos and the press."

"Celebrities," you huff playfully, and Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Something like that," Spencer agrees.

"I'm going to grab some coffee. Do you want some?" You offer, standing from where you were checking the case folders.

"Sure," Spencer accepts, sitting and grabbing a folder for himself to inspect. You pass by him and squeeze his shoulders in a gentle gesture, subtly kissing his head.

"I'll be right back," you murmur before leaving the room.

Things with Spencer have been kind of odd for a while. Sure, you still are coworkers and friends, but ultimately, it is like you both are getting to terms with the idea that something else is going on. You don't know what it is really, and neither of you has sat to talk about it.

Why? Lack of time, maybe? Fear of being misreading the signals? Both?

Whatever it is, you have been acting like nothing is happening, although you almost kissed after a bar outing two weeks ago. You would have if Morgan hadn't called Spencer when you were about to kiss outside your apartment.

After the interruption, neither of you brought up the topic again.

Now you are stuck in LA, trying to solve a case involving celebrity killings. So, of course, the media and the locals have been nailing your asses for answers.

There is no time for anything else but to try to catch the unsub as soon as possible. Hotch asked you to narrow the unsub comfort zone. It's a task that's usually assigned to Spencer, but Hotch has him tracking information from one of the possible unsub's targets: Lila Archer, an actress with a promising career ahead.

"Pretty boy now has the best assignment in this case," Derek sighs as he slumps into one of the chairs in the meeting room.

Elle and you scoff at his dramatics. Morgan points an accusing finger at you.

"If you have seen her, I'm sure you would agree with me."

Neither of you pays too much attention to Derek's tantrum and keeps working instead.

It's almost night, and when Hotch returns to the precinct with Gideon and no Spencer in sight, you raise an eyebrow.

"Where is the genius?" Elle asks.

"With Miss Archer. We need to keep an eye on her, and Reid has the rapport already," Hotch explains before asking for your progress in the task you were assigned.

How does Spencer suddenly become a bodyguard? You don't know, but don't question it. You assume Hotch knows what he's doing.

An hour later, Garcia calls, saying the cameras at Lila's property show a strange person wandering around. The fact Spencer is not answering his phone makes everyone flock out of the police station, and all of you think the unsub is trying to get into the house.

What if the unsub is already inside and hurt Spencer? Shit, you are a nervous wreck, although you try to mask it to the rest of the team.

When arriving at the house, Hotch split everyone: Morgan and Elle are assigned to the front. Hotch and you take the backyard. Gideon, with the patrols, canvass the main street.

As you approach, your heart beats faster and faster. With your gun aimed, you're ready for anything but the fact you hear laughing coming from the pool.

You are covering Hotch's back, and he is as confused as you after opening the gate.

You both see Lila getting out of the pool in a fit of laughs and Spencer, entirely clothed, inside the pool.

"Are you okay, Miss Archer?" Hotch asks, holstering his gun and checking the surroundings with his gaze.

"Oh, Agent Hotchner. I didn't know you were coming," she mentions casually, wrapping a towel around her torso.

Realizing danger isn't imminent, you holster your gun, too, and reach a hand to help Spencer.

"What the hell happened?" You ask him as you take in his drenched clothes and wet gun resting at the edge of the pool. Spencer doesn't look at you, only mumbling, "I fell."

Well, weird but not implausible, considering Spencer isn't the best-coordinated man in the world.

You help him, grabbing a towel from a chair and handing it to him. You take his gun and remove the bullets from the soaked chamber.

You want to know more about the whole situation, but before you have the chance to ask Spencer, you see Derek, Elle, and Gideon coming.

Finally, the alert came from a paparazzi who was around the house and wanted to take photographs of Lila. And regarding the pool? Lila said that she wanted a dip, and unfortunately, Dr. Reid tripped and fell.

No one says anything about it, but the looks Elle and Derek give Spencer catch your attention, as does the way Spencer avoids talking to you until you are called to return to the precinct.

Despite the incident, Lila insists Spencer stay as you continue investigating the evidence.

So you all come back to the station, minus Spencer.

You don't know why Elle instructs you to check the camera roll recovered from the paparazzi, but there you are, in a dark room, revealing what could be pieces of evidence.

What you do not expect is the kind of images that are showing before your eyes: Spencer and Lila Archer making out in the pool.

What-the-fuck?

Now, the scene you found when you arrived at the place with Hotch makes a little more sense. Spencer was entirely soaked while Lila, with a smug expression, walked into the house with a towel around her torso.

You don't know what reaction comes first. But you can recognize the deception and the way your heart shatters into a million pieces.

They were kissing. In the pool. At night. Like nothing is happening around them.

You have been working your ass to catch an unsub, and the doctor is enjoying himself with a movie star. In addition, they lied about the whole ordeal.

The tears pool in your eyes, but you are fighting not to let them fall. Not here. Not for Spencer. Not for anyone.

Why bother, anyway? You are just friends.

What? Will you ask him for an explanation?

It's not your place, even if you thought something was going on between you both.

How stupid you are. You don't stand a chance with him. Spencer only sees you as friend material.

With the entire film revealed, you shove the photos into a manila folder and leave the dark room.

Elle raises an eyebrow when she spots you walking toward her. You throw the folder over the table.

"Here's what you asked me for," you say in a harsh tone before turning around and walking out of the precinct. Elle doesn't say anything and doesn't need to open the folder to know what's going on.

When the team moves to Lila's house again a few hours later, already knowing who the unsub is, you stay behind in connection to Garcia to coordinate at the police station. You don't need to be there again.

You won't get exposed to see Spencer and Lila together.

Early in the morning, with the killer in custody and Lila Archer safe, you are ready to come back to Virginia.

During the flight, you seclude yourself in the farthest seat, headphones on and eyes closed. It works. No one disturbs you.

But you fail to notice Spencer's eyes on you the entire time.

After touching down, Hotch gathers you in the office to do the debriefing when you only want to go home.

Spencer tries to talk to you a few times, but you slip away from him every time, using whatever excuse not to speak.

Finally, Hotch officially closes the case and sends you home with two days off. Without saying goodbye to anyone, and with your heart broken, you run out of the BAU.

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Spencer looks for you when he exits the conference room, but you're already gone. His guts tell him something happened to you, and he is worried. Usually, you're open to talking to him, and with this thing going on between you both, Spencer doesn't know how to ask you about it. But even if he wants to do that, he needs to have you in the same room first.

And that will only happen once you are back at the BAU in two days.

He thinks maybe he should go to your place but refrains from the idea. Perhaps you're just tired, and he doesn't want to make it worse.

He doesn't know you sulked in your apartment the entire time, and when you all return to work two days later, you are not still talking to him.

Spencer trails behind you like a lost puppy. He tries to make some conversation with you every chance he gets, but you avoid him like the plague. Spencer still doesn't know why you're acting so cold with him, so he goes to someone who might know: Elle.

Spencer walks to her desk, ready to get some kind of answers.

"What is it, Reid?" Elle asks without looking at him. Spencer clears his throat.

"Do you know if something happened to her?" he questions, referring to you. Elle rolls her eyes in annoyance before lifting her gaze to him.

"Are you kidding me right now, Reid?"

Spencer frowns in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Huffing, Elle digs through the stack of folders on her desk, pulls out the one with the photos you developed, and passes it on to Spencer.

"Serve yourself, genius."

Spencer proceeds to check what is inside, and his cheeks immediately start to burn.

"She - she saw these?" Spencer stutters. Elle pulls a face.

"If she saw these? She developed the camera roll and gave these to me."

Spencer wants to die. It makes perfect sense, but that means he screwed it up.

"Why did she do that?! I mean, no one else could have done it?"

"I asked her to," Elle says, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why did you do that?!" Spencer squeals.

It doesn't matter why, but he still can't believe you saw everything. Spencer knows it was wrong to kiss Lila back, but for him, it didn't mean anything. His heart already belongs to you, even if he hasn't told you yet.

"What did I know that she would find out photos of you and Lila sucking each other's faces? I thought there were only pictures of Miss Startlet swimming and you stupidly falling into the pool. Isn't that you told me happened?"

Spencer Reid has rarely been left speechless, but this is one of them. A mixture of shame, regret, and anger at himself makes his stomach churn, and he wants to dig a hole to disappear.

He needs to explain to you what happened. But how could he approach the subject? You and Spencer are friends in the first place, and he didn't tell you what really happened in that pool. You had to see it for yourself in those pictures.

And thinking about your 'situationship' makes it even worse.

Spencer leaves Elle's desk, thinking about what to say and looking for the best moment to talk to you. But luck isn't by his side: in mid-morning, Hotch announced there is a case.

At least it's local this time.

In the afternoon, he spots you walking alone in one of the hallways. It's now or never, he thinks.

"(Y/N), wait!"

Hearing your name, you reluctantly turn only to see Spencer jogging to catch up with you. You want to turn again and leave, but it won't be subtle if you do that.

"What is it, Spencer? There is something about the case?" You ask flatly. Spencer knows you know it isn't about the case, but he has to assume you don't.

"I - uh. No. It's not the case. I - I just want to make sure you are okay?" His voice is wary, and the fidgeting of his hands is a tale-telling that he's nervous.

"I'm okay. I'm great, actually," you say, faking cheerfulness. Your patience runs thin, and Spencer isn't helping.

He frowns, knowing what you are doing.

"Don't be like that. I really wanted to make sure you are okay," he mumbles shyly. You cross your arms over your chest—a defiant look in your eyes.

"And why I wouldn't, uh? Something bad happened to me? There is a single reason why I shouldn't be okay?"

Spencer contemplates his response for a second. How does he say it in a way that does not sound self-centered?

"I don't know. You haven't talked to me since the last case in LA."

Spencer opts to bring up the obvious and let the overwhelming evidence out of this for now.

"And that bothers you?" You ask in a disbelief tone.

Spencer knows this isn't working.

Damn to his inability to lead meaningful interactions when he needs to.

"Yes! I mean, we - we're friends. You can tell me if something is going on."

The friend card. Spencer thinks it's the safest approach. But he's wrong. You laugh humorlessly.

"Honestly, Spencer? I don't know if we are friends anymore."

Your tone tries to be cold, but behind it, there is a tiny wavering you try to suppress at all costs.

"What? Why are you saying that?"

That's the limit Spencer reaches and pushes you to snap.

"Because friends don't lie to each other! When I asked you what happened at Lila's house, you lied to me!"

Spencer gulps because he knows you are right.

That is what he needed to say first, and not have to wait until you were who threw it at him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, gazing at his feet.

And then again, the guilt, the embarrassment.

Why did he do it? He isn't attracted to Lila. Why did he kiss her back?

"Yeah, me too. But you know? I'm glad. I'm glad you finally found someone and that now I know where I stand."

It hurts you to say the words. Spencer can see the crack in your demeanor, and he is the one to blame.

"What? No! No, I'm not- I didn't find someone," he chimes in an attempt to clear this up. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't? I saw the pictures, Spencer. I developed them myself. I know what I saw."

"She kissed me!" Spencer exclaims, trying to get afloat because he feels he's drowning.

"So what? If that's the case, you kissed her back!" You spat, angry at the lame explanation coming from Spencer's mouth.

"It was a mistake! I shouldn't have done that! You have to believe me."

Spencer tries to take hold of your hand, but you don't let him, yanking your arm and keeping your distance from him.

"Why do you think it's a mistake? Uh? She's pretty, almost famous, she's into you. I don't think it is," you start, and Spencer frowns. "What I can't understand is why you didn't tell me the truth before I could find out from those goddamn photos. What did you expect? That I would criticize you? What would bother me about your love adventures in Hollywood? You said it yourself: we're just friends."

"(Y/N), please," Spencer tries to get to you but is to no avail.

"It's your fucking life, Spencer. Do what you want with it! But let me out of it."

Without another word, you storm out to who knows where but far away from him.

Spencer knows he fucked up big this time. And his attempt at apology made things only worse.

He didn't see you for the rest of the case. Spencer assumed you secluded yourself in Garcia's office.

From his spot at his desk, he can only see Elle's disapproving look.

There is no reasonable reason for what he did, and that consumes Spencer's brain. He doesn't like Lila. He has been pining for you long enough to be sure he loves you.

'Men are men,' Elle usually says when Derek brags about his conquests. Spencer always felt proud of not being that way. And what happens when a pretty actress jumps at him? He goes with it. Elle is right, then. He is like any other man.

The question is if he will do something to gain your trust - and affection - back. How can he fix this?

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

A whole week has passed since the case in LA. The BAU looks pretty much the same as always, if not for the fact you only talk to Spencer when it is strictly necessary. The team doesn't pick up much of it, though. Only Elle knows what's going on, but she won't pester you with questions or unrequited advice.

Spencer is doing nothing extra to call your attention, although you can feel his eyes on you sometimes during the day. But you assume he got your message, and he'll go on with his life.

The problem is you can't bring yourself to do the same. You know your chances with Spencer are a past thing, but your heart still doesn't get the memo. And you try, really try to be neutral, professional, and collected. It works in the majority because nobody asks questions or refers to what happened in LA.

But the state of 'everything is fine' in you is fragile, and you know that.

It's Friday afternoon, and everyone wants to end their reports to go finally home. You see Spencer from the corner of your eyes. He is deep-writing in what you assume are the details from the last case. Elle is doing the same. You are trying to focus on your work, but the tiredness makes you go slower than you want.

Suddenly, the glass doors open to reveal a grinning Derek Morgan walking straight to Spencer's desk with something under his arm. It looks like a newspaper.

"Hey, lover boy!" Derek claps Spencer's back with a shit-eaten smirk plastered on his face. Spencer looks up at Derek with a frown. "Don't look at me like that Casanova. You are the one who didn't tell me about your little something with Miss Starlet."

Morgan places a newspaper he's carrying on Reid's desk. The cover is a photo of him making out with Lila Archer.

"W- what?" Spencer stutters as his cheeks redden. His eyes quickly move from the newspaper to find yours, and you only want to disappear. Averting his gaze, you try to focus again on the file you are reading. Elle rolls her eyes from her desk.

"My man! You slept with her that night, didn't you?"

"Morgan, stop," Spencer pleads, but Derek doesn't relent, even when the air in the room becomes way thick in instants.

"You can tell me! Is she good? I bet she is-"

"Morgan, no!" Spencer's high-pitched voice tries to make Morgan shut up.

"Come on, give me something pretty boy. She is wild in bed, doesn't she? How many hickeys did she leave on you?"

You actually cringe at Morgan's words. The sole idea of Lila and Spencer sleeping together makes you sick to your stomach.

You're about seconds to stand and get out.

Elle, who is observing the whole scenario - thing Derek doesn't - huffs in irritation.

"Why don't you and lover boy go to spill your gut about your sex life out of here? We are trying to work if you didn't notice."

Morgan frowns. Usually, Elle backs up his teasing to Spencer. But when he is about to say something again, you're - not so subtly - grabbing your things and storming out from the bullpen.

Your collected attitude goes out of the window.

All of them be damned, you think.

Spencer is standing right away to chase after you, leaving Morgan with a confused look, silently asking Elle what the hell just happened.

"I am only going to say that you are a total asshole, Derek Morgan," Elle states before returning to her files.

Meanwhile, you're pressing the elevator button, and you can feel Spencer rapidly nearing you.

“(Y/N)! Please, wait!"

When he's by your side, you intentionally look to another way.

"Not now, Spencer. Just let me go."

Just let me go. That statement has more meaning than the explicit one you're voicing.

"Morgan is only messing with me. I didn't sleep with her."

Spencer thinks blurting the truth will be enough to stop you from running away from him. But things are already more complicated than that.

"It doesn't matter, Spencer. Now, let me go."

Your insistence is more like an agonizing plea. You're so tired. There is no fight you want to engage in right now. You think you won this time when the elevator doors open, but it's short-lived as you see Spencer stepping inside as well.

"No! It does matter!"

The elevator doors close, and now only are you and him.

"Why? Uh? Why is it so important for you to tell me this?"

Your sudden raised voice takes Spencer aback. You're pissed off.

"Because - because it is the truth!" He defends.

And maybe he's right. Perhaps he didn't sleep with Lila, but your heart is already broken, and you only need space to get used to the idea and heal.

"Spencer. I already told you you don't owe me an explanation. Truth or not, it is not my business anyway."

Your tone is not angry but deflated, exhausted. Your gaze drops to the floor.

Spencer wants to scream; there is so much in his chest to say, but his brain doesn't cooperate in spilling something coherent.

"But I want it to be!" He decides to say, and he gets you to look at him again.

"What? are you talking about?"

"I want it - I want it to be your business," Spencer repeats, and you don't know what to say; you don't even know what he means.

The elevator dings and the door opens. You both stand there for a second, frozen after what looks like a confession. Or not. You're not sure.

"You don't know what you are saying," you mumble, deciding to move and pass him to walk into the parking garage.

"I know I should have said this before," Spencer continues walking after you. "I know I should have said something that night when we almost kissed. I regret I didn't."

You stop when he mentions that night. At this point, you thought he didn't care, and it didn't mean anything to him.

"Nothing happened that night," you say bitterly.

"But it should have. Don't tell me you didn't feel it," Spencer poses a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning away again. Your eyes fill with tears, but you're fighting not to let them fall.

"And what if I did? It doesn't change anything," you shrug, a painful look in your eyes.

"It does! Because I love you and I do really want to make it up to you. I want you back. I want to amend the hurt I caused you for my stupidity."

Did he say 'I love you'? That takes you aback.

"Spencer-"

"I know I messed up. I know it was stupid to kiss Lila back. It doesn't matter if she did it first or not; you're right. But believe me, it didn't mean anything to me because she was not you. She is not you and will never be."

"You're confusing things," you shake your head, still not giving credit to his confession.

"After our fight the other day, I really thought about stepping back and leaving you alone. I have been torturing myself all week trying to conceive a life without you on it, mourning the lost of our friendship, and above all, mourning the lost of the prospect of to be your person, and you to be mine."

You can't keep your tears at bay anymore, so you let them free. Spencer cups your cheeks, and you can see tears in his eyes, too.

"But I can't. I can't let you go. Not without telling you the truth. And if you don't feel the same, that's okay; I won't push any further, and I'll leave you alone."

You can't tell him that you don't feel the same way because that would be the biggest lie in the universe. You are also sure that you love him, and that is why this situation has broken you so much.

You blink away some of your tears as Spencer looks at you, trying to read the truth in you.

"I think I have been in love with you since ever," you blurt out, with a half sob and half chuckle. "And I felt so heartbroken seeing you kissing her, and now Derek comes suggesting-" you trail off.

"Hey, don't think about that. I messed up, and I didn't say anything earlier because, to me, it didn't mean anything. I'm so sorry," Spencer apologizes, running his thumbs under your eyes to wipe some of your tears.

"How can - how can we start over?" you ask him shyly but hopefully. Spencer hastens to reply.

"The way you want it. If you want time to think, or if you want us to go slow, we can do that. If you wish to, can we go on a date first? Officially, a date? We can do that," Spencer rambles, and you smile for real for the first time in weeks.

"Yeah, we can go on a date, officially a date," you concede, and Spencer can't contain his excitement. "But, can I ask you for something first?"

"Of course. Just name it," Spencer says as his hands rub your shoulders lovingly.

"Can you kiss me now?" You request, with the most faked innocent look you can muster, making Spencer laugh.

"I can do that," he nods, looking at you intensely, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. Then Spencer leans down, closing his eyes at midway. You wait with batted breath until finally, his lips softly touch yours.

It's a tentative, sweet kiss. Your arms go up Spencer's shoulders until they land on his neck. His hands fall to your hips to pull you closer as the kiss deepens. It's no longer exploratory; it's hungry, messy, passionate, and you couldn't have wanted it any other way. You're sure this kiss is a thousand times better than the one he had with Lila, and Spencer completely agrees with that assessment because it's you.

That makes it perfect.

It's the need for air that makes you part after a while.

"Wow," you both say at the same time, starting to laugh like teenagers and trying to catch your breath.

When the laugh subsides, you narrow your eyes in contemplation and Spencer's eyebrow furrow.

"What?" he asks, and you look at him—a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"We agreed to a date first, right?" you ask, and Spencer nods.

"What if we skip that and make up for the lost time? What do you say, my lover boy?" you suggest, with a playful smirk on your face. Spencer's cheeks flush, but he is definitively excited with the idea. He quickly grabs your hand and runs with you to your car.

There is a lot to make it up, he agrees.

------------------ 

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Charity

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You and Talia discuss your teams

You had always been smart.

You don't think either of your mothers had predicted just how smart you would become but it was a welcome surprise for all three of you.

You knew more languages than some people could dream off. You thrived at school. You had a degree from Cambridge. You'd just completed your coaching license.

Which is how you ended up in this situation.

You flick your pencil over at Talia. "Fuck you!" You laugh," I wanted her!"

You had no idea who had cooked up such a strange idea but they did.

A charity match.

Two teams of twenty-two players.

Eleven active players.

Eleven retired players.

With the list of people signed up in your hands, you don't know why you and Talia were chosen as the coaches but you were, so the two of you were trying to decide which players you wanted and which players you didn't.

Talia sticks her tongue out at you. "Isabella would prefer to be on my team."

"Fine," You declare, eyes skimming down your list of current players. If Talia could choose her national teammate then you would too. "I want Marika."

Talia's face goes cloudy and you know you've just pinched a player that she wanted.

"We could swap," You tease and she rolls her eyes, throwing back your pencil.

"No chance!"

It's easy enough to secure your eleven active players. Most of them you know personally, some national teammates, some club teammates and a few of the girls you used to play with on the Denmark youth team.

You're happy with your choices. You can make it work.

The harder part was choosing your eleven retired players.

One name sticks out to you.

"You can have her," You say, reaching onto the table to grab a strawberry lace from the pile.

You're both on opposite ends of the sofa, legs stretched out as you go through the lists.

Talia knows exactly who you're talking about.

"No," She says with a sweet smile that's incredibly fake," You can have her, really."

You click your tongue. "No, I insist. It's a bonding opportunity. Take her."

"No, really. I can't take this opportunity away from you. I-"

"It's fine. I'm taking Momma."

"We didn't discuss that!"

"I get Momma. You get Morsa. There. Discussion done."

Maybe it's a little bit of sabotage on your part, saddling Morsa and Talia on the same team but you never said you would go easy on her.

"She was a world class centreback," You tease and Talia sighs.

"You're right," She says," I'm sure she'll have no problems keeping Pernille quiet." Her finger goes down the list. "I want Aitana."

You grin. "You just don't want Alexia. What? Think you can't boss her around like she does you?"

"That woman is scary," Talia says," I can admit that. I don't need her judging my tactics."

You shiver a little. You hadn't thought of that.

"Do you want Zećira?"

You freeze. You hadn't realised Zećira was on the list until you'd gotten to the very bottom.

Zećira had been your idol for years. You'd just adored her. She was the reason you were a keeper in the first place.

When you were younger, all you wanted to do was grow up quick enough so you could play with her.

"No," You say," You can have her."

Talia frowns. "Are you sure?"

You nod. "Yes. You can have her."

Zećira is your idol and always will be.

When you were younger, you wanted to be just like her. Now, you want to be better than her.

You'll never play against Zećira yourself but this is the closest you'll ever get to going against her.

"Thanks," Talia says," You can have Patri, if you want."

"I'll take her."

The keys jingle as they're pressed into your front door and Prins comes barrelling in, leaping up onto the sofa to give you kisses.

Pernille and Magda slip in after him.

"Everything sorted out?" Pernille asks as she takes in the papers scattered around.

"Done," Talia confirms," Squads are announced in a few days and then a one week training camp before the match."

Pernille smiles. "I look forward to seeing who's coaching me."

"Us," Magda cuts in," Coaching us."

You and Talia exchange looks.

"You separated us?"

You shrug. "It's football, Morsa," You tease," I'm sure you understand."

Magda's mouth hangs open for a moment and Kung gets annoyed when he notices she's stopped stroking his ears.

He thumps his foot angrily on the floor, the only noise over Magda's obvious shock.

Her eyes dart between you and Talia.

"No," She says as you both laugh," You're kidding."

"It's a good bonding opportunity." You blow her a kiss. "Didn't you tell me you wanted to see what Talia's like as a coach?"

"I...She...You..."

"Close your mouth, Magda," Pernille laughs," You'll catch flies."

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Guys: I'm disappointed in you

G/N. (Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei, DG, Johan, Vasco)

You're not pissed off. You're much worse, disappointed.

Hands on your hips, finger dangerously close to wagging and lecturing them.

His intimidating presence does nothing to deter how you feel-

Jake's face drops and his eyes fall to the ground.

Whether he thinks he did anything wrong is one thing, but disappointing you is more than enough for him to feel bad.

He bows, bending at the waist a full 90 degrees and then some, and asks for your forgiveness. Face sincere and of utmost seriousness no matter how petty the crime.

Samuel scoffs and leaves. He doesn't need this.

But he tosses and turns that night, daddy and mommy issues playing up. The need for approval and validation from someone he respects gnaws at him, and he doesn't sleep a wink.

The next day he returns to you, bags under his eyes, pretending to be unaffected by your previous disagreement yet trying to get back into your good graces with expensive gifts.

"Disappointed?" Goo echoes, blinking owlishly, as if he couldn't fathom that he could be disappointing to anyone.

He whines and pouts, and is close to throwing a tantrum. Obviously your words having an effect on him.

In the end he does mutter an apology though you doubt the sincerity, especially if the look in his eyes are anything to go by.

Gun ignores you though you see the defiant twitch in his jaw from your words.

He doesn't care, why should he.

Except you catch him staring at you the rest of the day or week or until whenever your ire ebbs away. There's a strange awkwardness to his being, like he doesn't know how he should act around you.

The apology doesn't come if he thinks it's undeserved and unneeded, but he also doesn't want to see that look in your eyes again.

Vin scoffs, pretends he doesn't care. Calls you a nag, a wet blanket, all sorts of frustrating names.

Yet the guilt eats away at him. Your eyes, the playful expression you usually wear is now just replaced with disappointment.

He tries to involve Mary to worm his way back into your good books, she tells him to piss off and eventually he comes to you, tail between his legs and a poorly formed apology (likely as a rap).

Ryuhei's eyes are suspiciously wet. You think he's sniffling, the tip of his nose turned pink and he's trying to keep a brave face but god, he feels like a complete failure.

He drops to his knees and immediately offers to commit seppuku. When you roll your eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, he says he will do anything to make this right. That he would rather die than ever disappoint you again.

DG, usually ruled by logic but too often bratty and arrogant, considers whether this is a hill worth dying on. It's not.

Considers whether it warrants an apology, and it does. But does he deliver? Not always. Lets you simmer until he presents you with a grand gesture and a winning K-Pop smile he reserves for award shows.

His charm works on you less than he'd like, but more than you'd prefer.

Johan looks as if he's been slapped, before turning on his heels and leaving.

It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to come back, feeling contrite. He doesn't say sorry but the unspoken apology runs round and round his mind.

Instead he drifts to your side constantly like a shadow, trying to catch your eye, seek out some of your warmth and hoping for your forgiveness.

Regardless of what it is you're disappointed with, Vasco Tabasco thinks you are the best. A literal angel descended to Earth that has graced his life.

So if you're disappointed then whatever he is doing must be wrong and is worth apologising for.

He does just that. Offers to make up for it however you see fit. Completely heartfelt even if he doesn't know entirely why.

[papaya-twinks]

Hi girly pop can I ask for lando x reader where carlos and the reader get really flirty with each other and lando gets very jelaous (tho they are not in a relationship they are just bestfriends) and he just aggressively grabs her and they leave and do the nasty?🤭🤭🤭 at the end it is gentle aftercare. Thank youu pookie🎀🪷

Warnings: Angst, friends to lovers, flirting, smut, 18+, fingering, degradation, choking, praise

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

@cheriiepies u filthy girl

“C’mon,” you tugged on your best friend’s hand, pulling him towards the entrance to the club. Lando groaned, rolling his eyes as he follow you, diverting his eyes from the way your hips swayed as you walked into the part. You and a few friends had agreed to come to the club to hang out for a bit, as you approached the bar. “What d’you want?” Lando asked, taking his credit card out. “Put that away,” you hissed, pushing his arm down. 

He raised an eyebrow as you batted your eyelashes at the bartender, making him go red. You ordered your drinks as he slid them across to you, your fingers fiddling in your (empty) purse, as if searching for money. “It’s on the house,” the bartender winked as you giggled with exaggerated sweetness, taking the glasses. 

“Face card never declines,” you said, turning to Lando and handing him the glass. “Getting a bit flirty,” he muttered. You shrugged, a little smile on your face as you took the glass into your hand and walked out the designated spot where your friends were. Lando was, unknown to you, having a rather hard time keeping his eyes off the way the dress hugged your ass as he followed you.

“Hey Y/N,” a Spanish voice said smoothly, making Lando snap out his trance. “Heya, Carlos,” you grinned, kissing his cheek softly. Lando frowned, that was new. You’d never done that before. That was only what you did with him. As BEST friends. He watched as you two divulged into conversation instantly, his palms becoming sweaty as he balled his fists.

He’d liked you for ages, it was pretty obvious to everyone except you, and Carlos knew that. So why the hell was he trying to chat up his girl? “So,” Lando said, in an attempt to make it look less suspicious, “Y/N, wanna go dance?”. You turned to him briefly. “I’m alright,” you nodded, squeezing his hand. Lando raised an eyebrow but said nothing as you continued your chatter with the Spaniard.

What ticked him right the fuck off, was when you took Carlos’ hand and led him to the dance floor. He watched you with gritted teeth as your hips swayed to the music, a very obvious smirk plastered on Carlos’ face. Oh fuck it. In an instant, he walked up to you, his large hand wrapping round your throat as you gasped, your eyes wide as he pulled your forwards. “Lando!” you squeaked, your voice muffled.

Lando said nothing, pulling you to where he’d parked, pushing you into the car. “Gonna be a little slut, hm?” he asked, strapping you in as you frowned, watching him. “Knowing fully well how I feel about you,” he snapped reversing out the parking lot and down the road. You gasped as his hand came to your thigh, his words making you shiver - how he felt?

“Well fuck you,” he spat, his hand trailing past the hem of your dress as your eyes widened, his fingers brushing your clothed clit. Instinctively, you bucked your hips into Lando, a small smirk on his face. “Now look who’s all reactive,” he cooed, rolling his eyes. You whimpered slightly as he moved your panties to the side, his finger dipping into your wetness.

“Why’d you tease me like that, hm, princess?” he asked, pushing against your opening with his finger, one hand on the wheel, “did you want this to happen?”. You whined, your back arching into his hand as he scoffed. “Pathetic,” he swung his hand, the car stopping in a small, desolate parking lot as he undid his belt, pulling you out the car. He lifted you with his body, his hand still pumping you softly.

“Lando,” you gasped, his hand pushing your body flat onto the hood of the car, your ass peeking out the dress. “Whore,” was all he said, pulling his boxers down, his cock springing against your ass. He rode your dress up higher, his hand coming down, definitely leaving a handprint, on your ass. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, a small smirk playing on Lando’s lips.

He grinned, pumping his dick a few times before pushing it, his hand besides your head for support, his hips immediately picking up pace. “Oh fuck, Lando,” you gasped, eyes wide as he rocked into you. “Gonna be a dirty little tease, hm?” he spat, “gonna dance with other men in front of me?”. You didn’t say anything, still whining as he hammered into you.

“Look who’s got you moaning now,” he gasped, the knot in your stomach starting to unravel. “All wet and whining f’me,” he grunted, his own orgasm following yours as you moaned, your eyes rolling. “You fucking…” he trailed off, lips parting as he pulled out of you, his cum spilling onto your dress. “Go dance with that on your dress,” he scoffed, his cum leaking from your thighs and down your dress

[courtingchaos]

Crosstalk

Undesired signal leakage from one sound channel or track to another.

Playlist (if you wanna play along at home.)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Prompt: Eddie - I really like the idea of making him a naughty tape full of audio recordings of you playing with yourself for when he's out of town and you can't be together for a few days. But it's a surprise so you pass it off as a regular old mixtape and he doesn't suspect a thing until the first two songs end and then the real stuff starts.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Masturbation, reader tattoo mention

A/N: I have a list in my notes of prompts and I don’t remember what ask this one came from originally so apologies for that.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie digs through the bag he hastily packed that morning while the phone sits tucked between his cheek and his shoulder. “What kind of surprise is it? When did you even get it in here? Is it dirty?” He gasps into the receiver. He can feel you swatting his arm even from four hours away.

“It’s nothing wild, it’s just-“

His fingers close around something almost buried to the bottom and he fishes it out, slick plastic cassette case gleaming in the low motel light. “Did you make me a mixtape?”

“I told you it wasn’t anything wild.”

He knows you’re twirling your finger through the phone cord, your chin probably tucked into your collar in mild embarrassment.

“I love it.”

“Don’t uh, don’t go playing it for the guys though.”

“Oh so it is dirty.”

“No, I just don’t want them making fun of me for putting Linda Ronstadt on there three times.”

“Three? What are you, breaking up with me via music?” Eddie teases you while he reads the insert you lovingly wrote on, little hearts in the corners beside the 10 track listing.

“No! She’s just got a way with the language of love!” You whine into the phone and Eddie laughs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep it all to myself. Gives me something to listen to while I fall asleep.” Behind him the shower cuts off and he knows Gareth will be out to finish his tangent on getting bullied out of his terrible pizza toppings. “You gonna be okay if I let you go?”

“I won’t cry myself to sleep if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh shut up, I know you walk that widows peak night and day awaiting my return from…Detroit.”

“I don’t waste my time like that. I know you’re up to your armpits in groupies.”

Eddie looks around the old motel room and scoffs. “If you think four nerds are pulling groupies in the kind of room we have, I have a river to sell you.”

After saying goodnight five times and you finally hanging up on him being sappy he flings himself into the bathroom after Gareth and before Jeff and Frank get back with food. Four straight hours in a car with three other men makes him want to crawl out of skin so he watches the steam roll out from the behind the shower curtain with anticipation. Almost scalding water leaves red marks over his shoulders and down his chest, enough to make him feel clean again while he rinses his hair. He can hear muffled voices from the other side of the thin bathroom door and knows he’s been relegated to the small couch in their room.

“You know, it’d be nice to get the bed once in a while.” He says when he exits the bathroom and snatches two slices from the open box on the single king bed.

“If you didn’t try to spoon all of us we would.”

“Oh what, you bothered by a little cuddling?”

Gareth glares at Eddie hard and Jeff cracks up at the deep breath he takes in. “If it was just cuddling I wouldn’t think anything of it, but you turn into the world’s only land octopus! I’ve never been so sweaty in my life! I don’t know how your girl puts up with it, you’re a fucking radiator!”

“This is why I always take the cot.” Frank singsongs from said cot while watching the local news.

The bickering continues as Eddie makes his temporary bed on the too hard, too small couch and finally ends when Jeff just shuts off the lights. “I need everyone to shut the fuck up for the next five hours okay?”

Eddie only hums and fishes around for his headphones, cassette player tucked up under the blanket with him. With the tv flashing across the walls Eddie starts to drift off to the slow beat of “Blue Bayou”, a soft chuckle for your choice of intro, and by the end of it he’s almost out when he hears your voice.

“Okay, so uhm, this is actually your final warning to stop playing this for everyone because you never listen to me so I’m trying to save us both some face you ratfink.”

His eyes snap open in the dark and he pulls the player out from under the covers like it’ll tell him what’s going on.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll listen to me this time though if I put a warning on your mixtape.”

He slaps around beside him on the floor for the case and squints at it in the flashing tv lights to see if you wrote something he missed.

“Anyways though, I do miss you and I hope your show goes well. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but there’s never much room in those motels, huh?”

He can tell you moved around while recording, the bumping of the tape deck clacking in his ears. He’s glad it’s dark so none of the guys give him shit for the blush he knows is dusting his cheeks.

“Hell, one day soon you’ll get your own room and then I can come out and I don’t have to do sappy shit like this.”

The recording cuts and jumps to Carly Simon’s “You Belong to Me” and Eddie can’t help but laugh and feel hollow at the same time. As small as this couch is it would be nice to feel your weight on top of him, your head smushed in next to his sharing headphones that might snap from overextension. The song cuts off a few notes early to shuffling sounds and then your strained voice.

“This is really hard to do one handed, I won’t lie, but I wasn’t just gonna whisper sweet nothings to you.”

One handed? He can barely make out your breathing but he can hear the gasp alongside your light laughter.

“I don’t know if you know this, and if you don’t I’m sure I’m just inflating your ego but-“

The long sigh that follows finally jogs his tired brain and keys him into what’s happening. He whips his head to the side to see the sleeping forms of the other three before he sits up and pays closer attention.

“You have amazing hands Eddie, and it isn’t just-ohhh-it isn’t just the guitar playing you know? You know just where that spot is. I think your fingers are longer, I don’t know.”

Suddenly Bonnie Raitt is in his ear and he’s fumbling for the buttons on the side of the player to fast forward because while he appreciates your mixtape skills, now is not the fucking time. You would make him wait through three more songs before he accidentally runs into the middle of your recording, a thin moan of his name that makes him stand and head for the bathroom.

“-and I just miss you a lot and you’ve only been gone f-for what, a day by the time you get this?”

His lighter clicks in the dark while juggles the tape player and his pack of cigarettes.

“You actually just left my place. We had dinner and I told you I wouldn’t fuck you because it’s like good luck or some shit. I heard boxers do it like that.”

You have a remarkable way of running your mouth while otherwise occupied, thoughts that zip between moans and even he has a hard time keeping up. In the bathroom he cracks the small window so he doesn’t set the smoke detector off and then locks the door behind him before turning the shower on full blast. When he finally sits on the edge of the tub he expects a little more from you before Bill Withers starts singing about missing sunshine and he has to fast forward again.

“You’d think I’d be a little embarrassed to do this but actually it’s-fuck-it’s kind of easier to rec-“

Eddie sucks on his cigarette until the cherry burns bright red and his lungs start screaming, the cut off voice in his ears lending to quiet sounds of your hand working fast to make your breath jump in your chest. He thinks about you probably laying on the floor of your tiny studio, right at the foot of your bed with that big boombox next to your head set to record. That pillow that’s too big for your tiny couch, the one that got relegated to a ‘floor pillow’, stuffed behind your head while your toes catch on the edge of your green rug as you try to brace yourself.

Eddie sits on the edge of the tub and breathes in his own exhaled smoke and chews on his lip till it goes almost numb. Sits there and listens to your gasps and whimpers, the far off wet slick of your fingers moving faster.

“You’d think…I was making you…a tape to send you off to war.” Your laugh is light, forced air before it chokes off on his name and he slides down to the cold tile floor. Cigarette tossed into the tub behind his head, he’ll fish the butt out of the drain when he’s done listening to your voice.

“Barely a long weekend and-and-ah shit!”

You’ve tranced him, hardly notices the dig of the tile against his bare skin, doesn’t give a shit that this floor is dirtier than he can imagine probably. He lets his vision fuzz with the steam filling the small bathroom so he can focus on your voice and try to picture you laid out in front of him. It’s just another lazy afternoon, weed haze ringing your apartment while he watches you from across the room.

“I miss you when you’re gone. It’s only four days but I miss you Eddie.”

Sitting on that tiny couch and mesmerized by the dance of your fingers over your own skin. Nails press lightly into lines of ink to trail up your thigh and over your hip, to press into the softness of your belly. You’d hold his gaze the whole time like a dare while your other hand kneaded at your chest. When those adventuring fingers finally dip between your thighs and you sigh so light, Eddie follows suit.

Through the headphones he can hear you closer now like your lips were pressed to his ear. Heavy pants and no more words, just breathing that stutters and climbs in pitch. He wastes no romance on himself, not here in this cramped bathroom, not when he can almost feel your breath hot and damp against his neck. With every hitch of your voice he speeds his hand up, didn’t even bother pulling his shorts down all the way. In his imagination you give him a chastising smile for it before your reddened eyes roll back into your skull on a moan and he uses both hands now, just like you would.

The next song started and ended maybe but his hair clings to him in the steam and his sweat. There’s a chord change he thinks that proceeds his stomach clenching and his thighs aching before it all cuts off with your loud moan. You must have slapped at the player too late, not catching all of your agonies for him. Not everything, sure, but the important part is there. Your voice chanting low as your pleasure ebbs, his name over and over until you giggle and gasp.

Soft hands, phantom and damp with arousal and sweat cup his face when he cums, the heel of his palm shoved into his mouth to stifle the high noises trying to escape his throat. The track clicks again back to music and it isn’t until Eddie hears Peter Frampton that he starts to crash back into reality.

“If I know you like I think I do, I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes at me.” You giggle again at the end of the cassette, satiated and melancholy. “I just wanted you to have a little something, though I am sorry I buried it all in some of the best love songs ever written.”

You leave him with an I love you and another I miss you and a little bit of a mess to clean up. In twenty minutes though, when he’s back on the couch having evaded being caught and sucking down another smoke, he falls asleep and dreams about that hazy afternoon he intends to give you when he gets home.

[azzibuckets]

this isn’t the end or anything [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige and azzi are just dumb high school kids who don’t know what to do with this new feeling called love

a/n: i’ve missed writing angst 🙂‍↔️ i used prompts from this post

word count: 2.1k

masterlist

“You love me.”

Azzi stills from packing Paige’s duffel bag. Her best friend’s words seem to paralyze every bone in her body - except for her fingers, which are now trembling.

“You love me.”

Azzi forces herself to resume her actions. To finish folding the bright EYBL tie dye sweater and stuff it into the corner of the bag, taking up the last remaining space. She forces herself to slowly zip up the duffel, to slow the racing of her heart and quiet the panic looming in her mind. Nonchalant. Unbothered. Calm.

Paige sits down next to her. She doesn’t make eye contact with Azzi - instead, Azzi follows her best friend’s gaze to her own knees. Azzi’s fingers are resting on her thighs, but they twitch with the yearning to fall back into the habit of absent mindedly tracing her scars. But she doesn’t. She wonders if Paige will lean over and do it for her. Or if, like so many times before, Paige will let her lips touch the lines embedded into her skin, reminding Azzi, without even having to say a word, of how strong she is. But she doesn’t.

“I heard what you told Taylor.”

Azzi stiffens. Her conversation with Taylor had been brief. But in those few minutes, she’d admitted so many things - things she hadn’t even been able to admit to herself up until that very moment.

“What did you hear?”

Paige looks up at Azzi now. Her eyes are a startling blue, but what’s more unsettling is the uncertainty swimming in her pupils. Azzi is used to every expression on Paige’s face. As Paige’s best friend, she’s supported her through sad times, when she’s upset after a bad game. Or whenever Paige is angry, annoyed from her family and desperately seeking solace in Azzi. Azzi is familiar with Paige’s expressions of hurt, and embarrasment, of jealousy, and of joy and of humor. But this apprehension, this doubt that’s clouding her face? This is Azzi’s first time, because Paige has always been poised, radiating confidence on the court while she leads her teammates and off the court with her bursting personality.

“I heard you say you liked me. More than a….” Paige trails off, and she shifts, and for a moment Azzi expects her to come closer, like she always does, for Paige’s hands to snake across her waist and eventually wander across less appropriate parts of her body. But Paige shifts away, creating distance between the two of them, and in that second Azzi finds it hard to breathe. “You should’ve told me.”

“Why would I have told you?” Azzi’s voice is hard, and she’s never spoken like this to Paige, but right now she needs to, she needs to keep her walls up, because she knows that this conversation isn’t going well, and that one of them, if not both, will leave feeling hurt.

“So I would’ve stopped.”

Azzi’s lungs are on fire.

“I wouldn’t have kept…” It’s like Paige refuses to address it, refuses to say out loud the things that they’ve done. Like it’s a sin.

“Kept doing what?” Azzi says defiantly, her voice rising. “Kissing me?” She hates the way Paige winces. “Touching me?” Paige looks away. “Fucking me?”

“Stop,” Paige says weakly.

“I know you like me too.” Azzi’s voice is quiet now, and she waits for a reaction.

“I don’t.” Paige’s voice is unconvincing, and Azzi sees right through Paige. She’s memorized her tells long ago. The way Paige has trouble maintaining eye contact with the person she’s lying to, so her eyes will momentarily flicker somewhere else. The way her lips will go taut as she tries to keep a stony face. These changes are minuscule, easy to miss to everyone else, but for Azzi nothing on Paige’s beautiful face ever been easy to miss.

“It would just be too hard, wouldn’t it?” Azzi’s voice is even quieter now, and Paige has to strain her ears, because she refuses to get physically closer to Azzi, not when it’s like this. “My brothers are yours. We’re going to be teammates. And we’re best friends.”

“Girls!” Katie’s voice pierces the agonizing silence between the two of them. “We’ve gotta go.”

Ever since Azzi tore her ACL, Paige has carried Azzi’s luggage for her. Even when Azzi started healing and stopped using crutches, Paige insisted. This time is no different….or so it seems until she reaches for Azzi’s bag but her hand gets slapped away.

Paige purses her lips. “Azzi. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’ve been doing rehab for months. I’m fine.” Azzi grabs her own duffel and takes an unsteady step.

Paige reaches for the bag again when Azzi wavers, but Azzi dodges her grasp. “Oh my god, Az, stop being difficult and just let me help you.”

“I don’t need you.” Azzi didn’t mean to snap, for her voice to come out like that. But it does, and hurt flashes in Paige’s eyes.

Azzi limps all the way down the stairs and into the garage. She’s sweating by the time she reaches the car, heaving her duffel into the trunk and taking a moment to catch her breath as she leans against the cool metal. She ignores Paige’s stare when she slowly climbs into the back seat.

“Where’s your compression wrap?” Paige questions.

Azzi closes her eyes. “I got the elastic bandages.”

“But your compression wrap is way more comfortable.”

Azzi rubs her knee. “I couldn’t find it.”

Paige looks at her for a second before opening the door. Heading for the house, she jogs past Tim and Katie as they shut the trunk. “Hey, where you going?” Tim calls. “We’re really on a time crunch.”

“Just one second!”

Paige shows up five minutes later, gasping for air as she folds herself inside the car again and shuts the door.

“Come on, Paige,” Katie chastises. “You should’ve been ready to go when we told you.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Paige says apologetically.

The car starts moving, and Tim and Katie fall into a murmured conversation. Azzi allows herself to glance over at Paige, who gives her a small, unsure smile before nodding at her lap. Azzi looks down, and there it is. Her black compression wrap, looking a little bit worse for wear, but it’s there.

“Thanks.” Azzi takes the wrap and doesn’t say anything else, but they fall into an unspoken peace treaty, an agreement to ignore the words said before and just be. And later, when Paige is shifting around, trying to find a comfortable spot leaning against the window so that her neck will stop aching, Azzi, with her face still buried in her pillow, taps her foot against Paige’s. Paige breathes out a silent sigh of relief, letting her head fall into Azzi’s lap. They’re okay, she thinks before falling into sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••

“I saw you kissing him.”

“So?” Azzi crosses her arms. She knows that if she doesn’t, her hands will automatically reach for Paige, and she can’t have that. So she makes sure they stay tucked.

“You were literally just kissing me last night.” Paige’s eyes flash. “You can’t go around kissing two people at once.”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Azzi scoffs. “You said you don’t like me. You have no say in who I involve myself with.”

Paige knows Azzi is right. That she can’t have her cake and eat it. But she can’t ignore the nasty feeling that crawled into her stomach when she saw that guy press his lips against Azzi’s, holding her waist too tightly, pressing his body roughly against her, totally incompatible with Azzi’s gentleness.

“This is so fucked up.” Paige stands up, and she starts pacing. “Everything between us was fine until you decided to bring feelings into it.”

“Do you know how unfair you’re being?” Azzi pushes Paige, hard enough to send her stumbling back a little bit. “I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You…what?”

Azzi realizes too late what she’s done. And Azzi is not a crier by any means, but suddenly she finds tears flowing down her face, her cheeks wet with exhaustion and sadness and longing. She wipes angrily at her tears, cursing herself for showing too much emotion.

“Azzi, what?” Paige repeats, stepping closer to the younger girl.

“Didn’t you know?” Azzi spat, clearly referencing their conversation from the week before.

“I-,” Paige’s mind is running at a million miles per hour. “I know you love me. But you’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you kiss someone until they can’t breathe and hold them to sleep every night,” Azzi says, sarcasm dripping from her words. “You know, if I could, I’d lose feelings for you. But it’s not that easy. It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long.”

Paige Bueckers knows a lot of things. She knows how to cut through three defenders to score a layup. She knows how to create space for a shooting opportunity when coming off screens and handoffs. She knows how to facilitate, to create opportunities for her teammates to excel. She’s a genius in basketball, a generational talent like no other.

But with this? Paige is utterly clueless. She wishes she was on the court. She knows how to think when the ball in her hand and her sneakers are squeaking against the floor. But this is so far from the world of basketball.

“We can’t.” Paige knows it’s a bad response, even before Azzi’s eyebrows furrow and the corner of her pretty mouth dips. “It’ll make everything…” Paige searches for the word. “Weird?”

Azzi sniffs.

“Come on, Az.” Paige’s voice is gentle. “We both know how relationships work. Couples always break up, especially when they’re as young as us. I don’t want that to happen to us.”

“So you don’t trust in me at all? In us?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’d rather keep things as is instead of complicating everything. If we date and things go wrong, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.” Paige can’t imagine a world without Azzi. Their nightly Facetimes, their hours of texting, their future at UConn - she needs all of it like she needs oxygen to breathe, and she’d rather suffer seeing Azzi with someone else than risk the chance of that being gone.

“Maybe we should take some space.” Paige looks at her hands. “So we can have the time to figure out our own feelings.”

“Is that what you want?” No. Paige doesn’t want this. What Paige wants is to have the courage to take those three steps. To gather Azzi in her arms and get tangled in her limbs. Paige wants to make Azzi laugh again. To keep saying stupid jokes until Azzi’s dimple shows, until she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Paige just wants to love Azzi. But she can’t. “Yes,” Paige answers, and when she closes her eyes a tear slips out. “That’s what I want.”

“Okay.” Azzi stands up with finality.

“This isn’t the end or anything,” Paige says desperately. “We can still talk and everything. But let’s just, um, hold off on all the other things.”

Azzi stiffens. “That’s the thing, Paige. I can’t be around you and not feel this way.”

Paige feels like the world is crashing down around her. She feels like she’s falling, falling, falling, with no one to save her. Her heart pounds in her chest, angry and scathing. “What do you mean?” she whispers, hoping Azzi won’t say what she thinks she’s about to say.

“I think we should stop seeing each other at all.” Azzi rubs her eyes. “Just until I can stop feeling this way.” Her hands fall to her chest. “It just hurts too fucking bad.”

“Okay,” Paige says, but nothing is okay. Nothing is okay because this is everything she was trying to prevent, but now she can’t stop it from happening and now her whole life is completely upside down. So Paige turns around, because she can’t stand to see Azzi leave. To see Azzi turn her back and just walk away. She hears Azzi’s steps as they grow closer, smells Azzi’s familiar lilac perfume when she leans down, feels Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, can even taste the memory of Azzi’s lips on her tongue. But then, all too quickly, her hand slips away, and her touch is gone, and so is Azzi, and the door shuts.

And finally, finally, Paige allows herself to cry.

[atinyslittleworld]

15:05

san x f!reader

Summary: At Coachella, San's jealousy erupts seeing Y/N with another guy.

Word Count: 1k

Genre: best friends to lovers, romance

Warnings: jealousy

San had always been a charismatic performer, his presence on stage commanding the attention of everyone in the audience. This year, performing at Coachella, was no different. The crowd roared with excitement as he and his band rocked the stage, the energy palpable. Yet, amid the lights and the cheers, his eyes kept drifting to one spot in the sea of faces: Y/N.

Y/N, his best friend since forever and the girl he’d been quietly pining for, stood near the front. She was the reason he pushed himself so hard, the muse behind his music. But tonight, something was off. As San sang his heart out, he spotted her talking to another guy. And not just talking—laughing, touching his arm, and looking at him with a smile that twisted something deep inside San.

Jealousy, hot and unbidden, coursed through him. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay focused on the performance, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Who was this guy? Why was he making Y/N laugh like that? And why did it feel like a knife to his chest every time she touched him?

The set finally ended, the crowd's cheers echoing in his ears as he exited the stage. The rest of the band patted him on the back, congratulating him on a great show, but San’s mind was elsewhere. He barely heard their words as he made his way to the dressing room, his thoughts consumed by the image of Y/N with that guy.

After a quick change, San headed out to see the rest of the show. The music and the crowd buzzed around him, but all he could think about was finding Y/N. He spotted her near one of the stages, the same guy still at her side. His jaw clenched as he approached, every step a battle to keep his emotions in check.

“Y/N,” he called out, trying to keep his tone light despite the storm brewing inside him. She turned, her face lighting up when she saw him, but his eyes flicked to the guy beside her, and his smile tightened.

“San! You were amazing!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing over to hug him. He hugged her back, holding her a bit longer than usual, as if to stake his claim. When they pulled apart, she turned to the guy, still beaming. “This is Alex. He’s an old friend from college.”

San forced a smile, his eyes locked on Alex. “Nice to meet you,” he said, his voice betraying none of the jealousy he felt. Alex seemed nice enough, but all San could think about was how close he was standing to Y/N.

“Great to meet you too, man. You killed it up there,” Alex replied, offering a handshake. San shook his hand, his grip firm, trying to convey without words that Y/N was off-limits.

They stood there, the three of them, and San’s jealousy simmered just below the surface. Y/N was oblivious to the tension, chatting animatedly about the performance and their plans for the rest of the night. San tried to join in, but his mind kept drifting back to how easily Alex had made Y/N laugh, how he had touched her so casually.

As the night went on, San found it harder and harder to keep his jealousy in check. Every time Alex so much as brushed Y/N’s arm, San’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to pull her away, to tell Alex to back off, but he knew he had to keep his cool.

Finally, when Y/N went to grab a drink, San seized the moment to speak to Alex alone. “So, you and Y/N seem close,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Alex shrugged, smiling. “Yeah, we go way back. She’s great, isn’t she?”

San’s smile was tight. “Yeah, she is. Just...make sure you don’t cross any lines, okay? She’s important to me.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying threat in San’s words. “Got it, man. No worries.”

Y/N returned, oblivious to the tension, and the night continued. But San stayed close, making sure Alex knew his place. As the festival wound down and they headed back, Y/N slipped her arm through San’s, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You okay? You seem tense,” she asked softly.

San forced a smile, looking down at her. “Just...making sure everything’s good.”

She smiled back, squeezing his arm. “With you around, it always is.”

San’s heart swelled at her words, the jealousy fading slightly. Yet, as they moved through the crowd, he couldn't shake the image of Alex touching her. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Y/N, can we talk somewhere quiet?” he asked, his voice strained.

She nodded, concern flashing in her eyes. They found a secluded spot away from the noise and people, the soft glow of festival lights casting shadows around them.

San took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “Let me kiss you just once, and then we’ll forget it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in surprise. “San…”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “Just once.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Y/N’s lips curved into a small smile. “What if I don’t want to forget it?”

San’s heart skipped a beat, hope flaring in his chest. “Then we won’t.”

He closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender and desperate all at once. It was a kiss that spoke of years of longing and unspoken feelings. Y/N melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. San smiled, his jealousy replaced by a warmth that spread through his entire being.

“Guess we have a lot to talk about,” Y/N said softly, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah,” San agreed, pulling her closer. “But we have all the time in the world.”

[themaraudersjournal]

the sting of jealousy

dating the three boys comes with rewards—and consequences—one of them being dealing with your jealous roommate when she starts to bully you. you try to keep it from them—key word, try—you could only hide it for so long.

poly!marauders x fem!reader

tw: established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst w/ a happy ending, bullying (r receiving—r gets called a whore), injuries (r receiving, bruises), marauder’s coat described being loose on r, not really proofread (i’ll come back later to do so)

a/n: this is my first ever marauders fic and fuck is it hard to write for them. all of this is thanks to @ellecdc <33

Whenever you feel like you’re taking two steps forward, there will come the day you have to take one step back. It reminds you in a way that life isn't always fair, that for every once of happiness you get there'll be a bad day on the way to keep you humble.

Since you’ve been dating the marauders it's like you’ve been placed in the middle of a stage with a light shining right on you. You’re not entirely a nobody anymore, their reputations succeeding your previous one. Being friends with them was one thing, but dating them is another–and it’s brought a lot of negative attention since you’ve seemingly “crossed the line” for a lot of onlookers. Those who fantasized about being with the three before bed and during classes were not happy to find out that you’ve taken the place they’ve only dreamed of.

They just couldn't wrap their minds around why they’d open up their circle for someone like you.

Your roommate–after witnessing a kiss placed onto your cheek–felt her heart drop. The door had barely shut and she was already moving off of her bed.

“Did James Potter just kiss your cheek?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” you waved her off, moving to your bed to remove a coat that your roommate recognized was too loose on you.

“That’s not nothing,” she slides to sit beside you, “how long have you been with James?”

You fiddled with the coat, “And Remus and Sirius. I believe I’ve been with them for a month now.”

She nods, biting her cheek and looking away, “so the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

You watch her stand, eyes following as she wanders back to her side of the room. The prolonged silence makes your heart pace just a bit faster.

“That you’re a whore for dating three men.”

You feel as if you’ve stopped breathing, breaths short and shallow.

“What?”

“Others are quite wild, suggesting that you’ve casted spells so they’d date you,” she looks at you expectantly, almost playfully, “have you?”

“No, never.”

“Hm. Not sure why that’s difficult for me to believe. Anyways, goodnight.”

She climbed into her bed then, back turned towards yours. The weight of her words affected the both of you differently. It brought a smile onto her face knowing she made yours drop.

The day after you had noticed people looking at you, others looking in your direction. Now with knowledge of what others were saying about you, you felt self-conscious–walking with your mind tumbling into nowhere. Two hands appeared in front of you, holding onto your forearms.

“G’morning,” James smiled down at you so you attempted to smile back for him, “you practically ran into me, everything alright?”

“I’m alright, just didn't sleep well, sorry.”

It didn’t look like he fully believed you, but regardless he cooed and brought you in for a hug. In his mind he had hoped that it would help like it has before, but this time was different. The affectionate gesture caught the attention of nearby students. Seeing others glaring at the two of you brought you to pull out of his grasp. You’re sure there was a confused–and hurt–expression on his face, but you intentionally avoided looking.

It was like someone else was controlling your body. You didn’t want to hurt him or push him away, but while out in public you felt like your eyes glazed over. Your focus shifted from the guys to anyone else that came by. It did nothing but worry them. You noticed the way they shared looks at the dining table, but they brushed it off that night–trusting your word that you truly were just tired.

Back at your room for the night you found your roommate and a few of her friends residing on her bed. You smiled at them to be polite but it did nothing, the cold expressions on their faces unwavering.

“Where’re your boyfriends?”

“Back in their room, I can go get them if you–”

“Oh no need, we only wanted to talk to you. Can you come over here, please?”

Your roommate stated, emphasizing her words by patting the sheets. The moment you stepped towards them, you found yourself moving backwards instead. You stumble, quite awkwardly too. The back of your arm got the brunt of the fall, the edged surface of her desk collided with your arm hit at an angle that made you wince. The girls smiled, not caring at all that you had just injured yourself on their behalf. You were sure that the rug had been there below you, but after you looked you found the rug had moved into a whole different section of the room, like it had been pulled out from under you.

“Oops,” your roommate whispered, wand raised in the air still, “sorry. I’m just trying to prepare you for when the boys inevitably ‘pull the rug out from under you.’ And by that I mean they dump you.”

You blinked back tears and rushed out of the door. With your room occupied, you’re thankful for the one other place you can go–theirs. Even before you dated they’ve always welcomed you to stay with them wherever.

James had opened the door when you knocked, smiling wide.

“Who’s at the door,” you hear Sirius ask in the back. He opens the door wider so Sirius can see.

“Would it be okay if I stay here tonight?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” James says, moving to the side so you can slide through. He sends a look to the other two as you do. You settle on the edge of the bed, Remus sitting closest to you with a book on his lap. James settles back where he presumingly was, laid back in the ruffled sheets near Remus.

Usually when you come over you’re greeted with hugs, kisses placed all over your face. You miss the way you teased each other and discussed plans for the next day. Now it was silent, everyone’s focus set on you as you sat yourself on James’ bed.

“Are you okay, dove,” Remus asks, voice soft.

“Yeah.”

“Anything happen?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Sirius quips, the front legs of his chair coming down with his feet as he swings them off the table, “we can all tell something is bugging you, you keep looking off in the corner like there's a ghost in the room.”

“I’m fine, honest.”

“Like hell you’re fine.’”

Remus sends Sirius a look that has him throwing his arms up. James scoots forward on the bed to be beside you, resting his hand on your back to rub sweet circles. When his fingered press on your left side, right where you had collided into your roommate’s desk, you’re unable to help the way your body flinches away. From the corner of your eyes it looks as if James flitched in response to your jolt in pain.

The room was silent before, but now it's deathly quiet. The tension freezing in the air, stilling everyone in their spots. You hear Remus slide off the bed behind you to stand behind you.

“Can I lift your shirt?”

You nod, allowing him to slide the lift side of the sweater you had put on earlier to examine the spot that made you wince. The welt had only just begun to form, but it had enough color and swollen muscle to worry all three boys.

“Is this at all connected to why you’ve been distant lately?”

The tears from before that had built up, pooling in your eyes as you look into Remus’ eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, “I didn't mean to hide anything from you.”

He shushes you, “don't apologize. Can you tell us how you got this?”

“I swear to Merlin if the cause of your injury involves someone else,” Sirius interjects, stopping when James runs a hand over his shoulders.

“Let’s let her explain first before we jump to conclusions,” Remus says, running his thumb over your hand, urging you to talk.

“The other night when you dropped me off, my roommate saw you kiss me goodnight. For whatever reason she wished to bring up the rumors others have been saying about us, specifically me before going to bed. And I don't know what came over me, I should not have pushed you all away over a few rumors,” you say, looking specifically at James, “and back at my room just now, I think my roommate pulled the rug out from under me like a cruel prank. She said that she wanted to prepare me for when you all will do the same.”

James’ hands hold firmer on Sirius’ shoulders after feeling him try to stand, “really James? You’re going to stand there while her roommate is in the room right now? It’s perfect fucking timing–”

“I know, but it’s best now that we stay with her. Look,” he urges Sirius to look, finding you weeping into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat for the umpteenth time, “I should’ve told you, I didn’t want to be a bother. I assumed you all have dealt with similar things.”

“We have,” James pipes in, still pushing Sirius down, “but we had each other. We’ve learned to tune them out.”

Sirius shoves James’ hands off, “I’m only coming to talk to her, calm down. Look, gorgeous, I’m sorry she said and did such nasty things. None of what she did was warranted. My only wish is that you brought it up to us, and communicated how you’ve been feeling. If you had come to tell us what she said right after she had, she never would’ve pulled what she did a few minutes ago I can promise you that.”

You smile, the sight infecting him and causing his lips to curve upwards.

“You’re right though, dove. Even if you did tell us, it doesn’t fully stop others from being arseholes–but it allows us to care for each other. You don’t have to go through that alone, alright? Promise you’ll talk to us next time?”

“Promise.”

[f1-jay]

Hi, I have a request for Jenson if that's alright. You said that you struggle with plot because you don't know what people want, so this is going to be super detailed but add or taking away whatever you want from the plot.

Jenson has been dating a younger woman (reader) for a while now and everything is going great, they're even talking about going public! And then her ex starts trying to get in contact with her. He's been calling or texting or dm'ing her every day and finally one day Jenson gets tired of it. She's in the shower, he's studying what he needs to study for commentating (idk how that works lol) and her phone just keeps going off. He of course, knows her password as she does his and opens up her phone and goes to his messages. The messages are things like 'I know you miss me so stop playing hard to get' and 'You'll never find another guy like me' and Jenson gets so fed up with it that he decides to bite the bullet and post the hard launch already. They had already agreed on a series of photos and short video's they would post. He posts them all, tagging her and the ex-boyfriend and the caption is 'She's taken, buddy'. And then she comes out of the bathroom, and he freaks out, thinking she's gonna be pissed at him but she finds in really hot insted.

Mine - Jenson Button

Pairing: Jenson Button x Younger reader

Summary: read request

Warnings: nothing

Words 0.8k

Note: Thank you very much for sending a request

You and Jenson had managed to have a pretty private relationship from the beginning. Eight perfect months before the rumours started, to be honest, you were both surprised that it remained private for such a long period. Neither of you minded that much, as you had talked about going public and planning what photos you would post on Instagram.

Unfortunately for you, the rumours meant your ex tried to get back in contact with you by messaging, calling, and on social media, but to no success. You two didn't necessarily end on bad terms, but you didn't care to talk to him. He was persistent, but you were stubborn. You didn't bother telling Jenson about it at first; he'd stop soon, right?

Four days later, you're sitting on the couch, enjoying each other's company. Your phone rings again, and you hit the decline button, letting out an annoyed sigh.

"You okay?" Jenson looks up from his phone and over to you. You hum in agreement at him. "That sounded believable" He says with sarcasm. Now you look at him.

"It's nothing. Promise" "Wow, I can't believe I'm dating a liar..." He says it overdramatically as he slowly shakes his head and clicks his tongue. A mix of laughter and scoff comes from you.

"It's just Broc; see, nothing to worry about." You shrug it off while Jenson's eyebrows knit together.

"Broc? like your ex, Broc?" You nod. "Why is he calling? Just block him."

"He'll stop soon; it doesn't matter. I know he's an ex, but we do get along. If he starts to say anything that makes me uncomfortable, then I'll block him; trust me." That's all it takes for Jenson to stop talking about it because he does trust you.

Overnight, a month-old photo comes out that confirms your relationship: you and Jenson sharing a kiss while holding hands. The communication from Brocs starts to become more intense, and so do the words, but you don't keep your promise to Jenson. Something about the messages and the change in attitude made you want to see what else he would say.

You had gone in for a shower just before Broc started another rant over text. Jenson sits at the desk, going over some information for the upcoming GP, and ignores the noise from your phone, assuming it's just a friend. The constant message tones then turn into a ringtone, so he gets up to see what all the fuss is about. He isn't thrilled when he sees that it's Broc, and he considers just blocking him for you. Another message comes through: 'You really think he loves you? You're just a worthless slut'. That is enough for Jenson to unlock your phone and go into his messages. What he sees pisses him off, and he decides that he wants to send him a public message.

Jenson picks up his phone and puts those preselected photos into a post, making you officially public.

JensonButton: She's happily taken, @/Broc

User1: Iconic

User2: The text!?! She's so real for that

User3: I literally screamed

JensonButton: So did she

User4: Ain't no way he tagged her ex 😦

User5: Isn't she only like 22? That's half his age 🤢

User6: Acting like you wouldn't if you got the chance

You get out of the shower and start to dry off when you hear your notification tone going wild. You unlock the door and poke your head out, questioning what's going on. Jenson just handed you your phone with a smile. You see the post and look at him with a slightly open jaw.

"What's this? I know we said we would, but I thought we meant together." You say, looking through the photos.

"I saw the messages that he was sending you, so I sent one back." He scrolls down, so you can read the caption. Your jaw opens a little wider. "I also blocked him for you since that 'trust me' obviously wasn't reliable."

"Oh, Mr. Button, you are very attractive when you're jealous." You place a hand on his chest, which he removes right away with a strong grasp on your wrist.

"Uh, uh, don't even try it. What happened to blocking him when he went too far?" He says as he looks down at you with a serious look. You pout and flutter your eyelashes a couple times.

"Are you going to punish me?" A fake sad look is etched on your face. "Please, sir, don't. I'm sorry" You say, obviously wanting him to do something. Jenson can't help the smirk that appears on his lips.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" The small smile that you try to hold back gives him the answer. "Fucking brat" he mumbles through his teeth. He pulls you towards the bed with his hold on your wrist, sitting down and pulling you over his lap. He was thankful that you hadn't gotten dressed yet. Your wrists are then pulled behind your back, and he holds them there with one hand, and his other hand comes down hard on your ass. 

[vhsgoghs]

unknown artist (Simon Riley one shot)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x female reader

Summary: Simon goes to an art exhibition and finds a painting that catches his attention without knowing that the artist was next to him. note: English isn't my first language but i have done my best, sorry for any mistakes. ★ masterlist here

Price had suggested doing new things, and although Simon liked to keep his normal routine, he couldn't say no. There was a temporary exhibition in town and he decided that would be the first activity to change his routine.

He knew absolutely nothing about art. When he was a teenager he had discovered that he didn't draw bad at all, but he had never made an effort to improve or had much interest in it. This didn't make him an expert either, but had enough judgment to recognize something he liked.

There weren't many people and he was grateful for that, he didn't like going out without his mask at all, after a while and the daily work, he had gotten completely used to it, but he couldn't go around the city covering his face as if were a fugitive, that would attract more attention than he would like, especially now that he was just in his free time, however, the hood of his sweatshirt helped a little, it didn't completely cover his face, but it helped a lot.

It took Simon about twenty minutes to realize something: most of the paintings were the same or followed a pattern that prevented him from finding too many differences between them. His eyes focused on the data that listed the names of the artists, only to realize that none of them were the same. So why did they all look the same?

Maybe it had been a bad idea. Maybe he didn't know anything about art and didn't have enough judgment to notice that something was different in all the paintings, because to him all looked the same. Maybe he had great works of art in front of him and couldn't even notice it.

That thought was erased the second he turned to look for the exit.

His eyes fell on one end of the room; there was one painting that barely stood out due to the lack of light in the space, but to Simon's eyes (who saw the rest of the paintings exactly the same) it was what stood out the most in the place.

He approached slowly to get a better look. There was no one around except for a girl who was also looking at the painting.

There were too many details that made him feel dizzy. It was a dark room, only illuminated by the light from outside, there was a crib at one end and a little girl crying on the floor, there were several broken things and a shadow stood out near the door of the room. His mind was trying to find some meaning, maybe something related to a bad childhood.

"Do you like it?" The girl next to him asked, breaking him out of his trance.

Simon blinked and turned to face her. She was shorter than him, so he had to look down. The girl had two braids, her glasses made her eyes look huge and she kept her hands behind her back, she looked like someone completely normal who was just trying to make conversation.

"I think it's the best painting here."

She smiled and nodded before returning her gaze to the painting.

"I think the author was trying to reflect what a bad childhood means; many problems start there. I know the person who painted this didn't exactly have a good childhood."

Something turned in his stomach, he understood that better than anyone, but he didn't want talk to a stranger about it.

"Do you know the author?" He asked, somewhat impressed.

"Yes, actually." She nodded and a small smile formed on her face, a smile of pride.

"Well, I think that person should know that this painting is the only one worth having in this place." Not even himself knew why he had said those words, but if he were the author, he would like to receive a compliment and know that someone appreciated his art. Maybe that girl could tell the autor.

"Would you pay for it?" she asked and for a few seconds she looked at him, but she didn't want to make too much eye contact, so quickly looked away from again.

"If she were a collector, without a doubt."

She nodded again and looked away once more. His words echoed in her head and she grimaced. He had been the first person to come to see the painting, she had been there all day.

"I have to go, but thank you." She gave him a smile and Simon inevitably returned it, although he didn't know why. A mirror reaction, perhaps.

The girl began to walk to the other side of the gallery and Simon's eyes examined the painting for a few seconds, until his mind was able to process the girl's words and realized that she had thanked him for something that he didn't know.

"Wait!" The girl stopped; she had barely moved two meters and Simon's thick voice bounced around the place. The stranger turned and looked at him. "Why do you thank me?"

"I am the artist." She smiled, although she wanted to giggle because he hadn't noticed it. "I'm (Y/N), by the way." It didn't take long for her to turn around to continue on her way and this time he didn't stop her.

His eyes returned to the painting, this time as if he were searching for something different.

He carefully examined every detail of the room, the broken things, the small details, until he noticed it. He looked at the girl in the painting, she had tears in her eyes and seemed to be hiding from something, and that face of hers became familiar to him.

She was the girl in the painting.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Final Part ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon Targaryen x Little Sis! Reader prompt: Aegon would do anything, if it meant killing every ratcatcher or gold cloak in the city, he'd so. word count: 1, 000+ words

You wept and wept. Aegon feared that you would never be able to stop. Helaena was no better, locking herself up and shutting down. The two of you spiraled into madness and tears. It only made him drink and rage more. He hated to see you cry. You were supposed to be the happy one out of all of your siblings.

Aegon was the drunken mess, needing to be put in line. Helaena was the odd one, in a dream-like state. You were the perfect little angel, his perfect little angel. Aemond was the brooding one, face pulled into a stupid brooding look. Daeron was the forgotten one.

Now you were the broken one. Rhaenyra has stolen your smile. Rhaenyra had stolen his perfect little angel from him. She took the good from you, leaving him with a broken mess. A mess he wasn't sure of how to repair. So, he was going to do what he did best. He was going to get even.

If Rhaenyra wanted to take the one good thing he had in his life from him. He was going to burn everything she cared about to ash. Even if it made him a monster in the eyes of his own Court. Because you were worth burning the world down.

Blood and Cheese. Blood was one of his men, or now a former man of the City Watch. Cheese was a rat-catcher. That's how they knew how to get into the Red Keep. They were paid to kill Aegon's son. The worst part of all it had to be the fact that your son was "just in the way". They had no reason to kill him. He wasn't the one they had been paid to kill. They just killed him because he was in the way of things.

Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Aegon stares at the club in his hand, the metal rusted and jagged. Blood's words confession ringing in his ears. They killed his son for a debt, but yours because they thought of him in the way. Collateral damage. That was your son was, fucking collateral damage. Nodding his head for a moment, he thought of not killing the man, just leaving him to rot. But, another part of him truly wanted to see him bleed.

"You killed my son. You killed my sister's whole world." Aegon states, his voice cold. "My sister's loved their son's. And you just killed them."

"The Seven will never forgive you for this." Blood blubber's out, "To kill me.."

"Ah, yes, but the Seven aren't here, now are they?" Aegon mocks, adjusting his grip on the club.

Motioning around the Black Cell's, there was nothing but the rats and darkness there. No one to hear Blood's screams. No one there to help. It was just Blood and Aegon. Alone. Looking at the jagged end of the club, Aegon brushes his thumb over it, seeing it was sharp enough to cut. Though it would not be smooth or painless.

"You can fuck with me all you want. You can beat me. You can mock me." Aegon states, "Do as you please to me and I can endure it."

Blood sobs, the chains around his arms and legs clanging and jiggling loudly. Mercy was below, Aegon now. Mercy was not shown to his son or yours. Why the fuck should he show it to Blood?

"See, my friend. The thing is, you made my sister's cry." Aegon's face goes deadly cold, "I don't like bastard's that make my sister's cry."

Bringing the metal club down onto the man's head, he doesn't stop, unable to stop thinking of you. The way you wept, sobs full of heartache. The way you clung onto him, the blood on your nightgown seeping into his own clothes. The way the bastard made you cry. The way the bastard made you feel so unsafe in your own home.

The way the bastard made you doubt him. The way the bastard made you think he was a liar. Feeling a hand grab onto his forearm, he's pulled out of his daze, now realizing the man was now dead. His head caved in a bloody mess. Dropping the club, he takes a step back, licking his lips. He can taste blood on it, though it was not his own.

A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. They got there son. Now a debt was now owed, on behalf of your son. The cycle repeating over and over again. Lucerys died, Jaehaerys died in payment. Your son died, now Rhaenyra would die in payment.

"Your grace?" A kingsguard asks, "What shall we do with the body?"

"Feed him to the pig's. I have to desire for time or a hole to be wasted upon him." Aegon spits at the corpse for good measure.

Hearing the door to the chambers open, you couldn’t find the strength to get up from bed, clinging onto the blanket. You could still smell your son on it. He smelt of lemon cakes and mud. He always loved to steal the frosting off the lemon cakes, just like Aegon did. He was just a boy. He was innocent. Why him? Why? Feeling tears bubbling up, you did not wish to ponder on your son’s death. It forced you to think of the sounds of a head being sawed off.

Feeling the bed dip for a moment, you look over to see Aegon there, his doublet and breech soaked in blood. Blood’s blood. Sniffling softly, Aegon leans over to you, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. It was comforting to be touched and tended to like this, like you were still a child and not a woman grown with responsibilities and duties. Like everything was still okay.

"It is done." He whispers, nodding his head.

You don’t say anything, not being able to find the right words. Even if you could, what would you say? “Oh, that is so amazing to hear from you, dear brother.” or some other bullshit. 

"You have my word, I swear it upon my life. I will burn everything down that Rhaenyra loves." Aegon pledges, "From her favorite tailor to her favorite child. I will avenge your son, sister."

"Aegon.." You croak out, trying to find your voice. 

"I will kill her myself. I’ll fucking feed her to my dragon.” He vows, “No one will remember the name Rhaenyra Targaryen, when I am done.”

“Aegon..” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. 

"She'd be a fucking myth. She'll be a fucking ghost of the Red Keep. No, no, not even that. I won't even let her haunt the Red Keep."

He doesn’t hear you, clearly swept up in his plots and plans for revenge on your behalf. His words left not a drop of comfort.

“I will do anything that you ask of me. Just tell me what it is that you wish and I shall do it. I’ll kill whoever you wish⎯" He rambles on and on. 

"Egg." You whisper, tears bubbling up.

The childhood nickname falling out of your lips naturally. You did not wish for grand words, for grand promises, or grand actions to be done in your name or favor. That was meaningless. Mayhaps when the grief dimmed, you would wish for revenge for your son. But, for now, at this moment. You just wanted your big brother to hug you. You wanted things to be back as they once were. Here you were just Y/n and he was just Aegon, your big brother. Not the King.

Feeling the tears bubble up more and more, you sniffle, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. You watch through teary eyes as he goes deadly still. You did not regret saying his old nickname. You just wanted to feel as safe and happy as you used to be in your childhood. You wanted to escape from the crushing reality that your son was dead and war was invincible now. Mayhaps it was childish. But, you wanted to be okay once more.

"Y/n.." He whispers, his face crumbling.

"Just hold me like you used to do." You whimper out, “Please.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

@lexi-anastasia-astra-luna 

[chiara-hotel]

When s/o is on their period (Fem!Reader)

Characters: Blade, Aventurine, Sunday & Boothill

Warnings: Periods, cramps

- Blade is somewhat like his usual self while you’re on your period

- In a way he just becomes more protective of you

- He knows that you’re strong enough to defend yourself, he knows that you’ll be okay but seeing you in such a weak state just sets in his mind that he needs to protect you

- He feels honored though that you’d show him such a vulnerable side of him (and finds you cute but doesn’t show it on the outside)

- Its adorable even, hes like a little black cat cuddling his owner to protect them

- Or even just standing behind you to protect you

- Because of this hes also extra jealous during this time

- No one else can see you like this or even talk to you or Blade will get mad

- A great helper too when it comes to cramps, Blade can help massage your stomach/back if needed

- When it comes to shopping for painkillers, pads, tampons, etc. he usually just asks Kafka to buy you stuff and then goes to your place to cuddle

- Not because he doesn’t want to, he just wants to stay with you because he knows you want to cuddle him (he wants to cuddle you) and also he thinks kafka knows way more about him and will get the right ones

- Don’t worry though! He makes sure to listen every product you like to the exact specifications (if Kafka is unavailable, he will buy them for you)

- And yes he buys you a bunch of snacks too

- Blade doesn’t actually understand why you enjoy having so many snacks but he just goes with it…

- On days you don’t have cramps he doesn’t treat you much differently, except for being more protective

- And again, more cuddles… beacuse “you” need it

- Aventurine treats you with whatever you wish

- Pads? Sure he’ll fetch someone to buy you some, Snacks? Hes already got you covered

- Summons some random female IPC agent to get whatever your heart desires

- Aventurine also definitely keeps track of your period with an app

- He doesn’t use it for everything, Aventurine isn’t the type of person to record your mood, feelings and basically everything into the app

- Occasionally whenever he thinks its been a while since your last period he just checks the app too check when it’s happening

- Oh but he also has the app synced with his personal calander, every week before it starts he also gets you done boxes of pads/tampons

- Before you were dating your period started at his place and he had to run out to get a pads. So ever since then he keeps a few in his bathroom drawer

- Aventurine was so nice about it too, told you not to worry and showed you where they’d be for next time

- On your actual period he spoils you a lot

- Of course most of the day he’s kept up in his office, either he can work from home or he invites you to come to his office from him

- While there you lay down on his lap while he finishes work on the sofa, annoying calls, booking appointments, going over monthy stuff

- Sometimes he tries to massage your stomach but fails and just ends up rubbing it

- Boothill is…just okay on your period

- He’s clueless at first, but trying

- Boothill is willing to buy you snacks or even period products, he does not care about walking straight to them

- Loves buying you snacks actually

- Willing to give you any cuddles or massage you for your cramps

- Feels bad for your pain actually

- Can he heat up his body somehow? If he can, he would do that and cuddle you so you’d get warm (like a heating pad but he wouldn’t complain if you need that too)

- Other than that he knows you’re a strong woman and he also loves seeing you continue to do your job throughout the pain

- He doesn’t try to protect you when he knows you can handle the job, even on your period

- Other than those hes not really much different

- Sunday can be the best and worst on your period

- As a kid he always helped Robin while she was on hers so he knows what types of things you need

- Often times he also might ask her to buy you some supplies (which she usually gets her bodyguard to do since the fans would go crazy)

- He will get you any of your necessary requirements for this time

- But he also is very busy with his job as the head of the family and won’t have much time to cuddle with you/be with you

- When he gets home from his job then he will cuddle you, but his job often takes the entire day

- He will hug you during your sleep though

- Great massager for your cramps too

- His angel wings hovering over your stomach to give you some warmth to help with any cramps

- Also gives you time off work/stuff so you can rest & relax during this time of pain

- Especially if you don’t work for him, he forces them to let you have the time off

- If you work for him well, you still work and get paid but your job is just to be near him/rest on the couch

[tarotphlow]

Astro Observations 9

A return to normalcy

🎒Planets in the 7H can indicate the kind of partner you may have, example, having Mercury in the 7H may mean you have a witty partner!

🎒I’ve noticed that when there’s mercury 8H synastry with someone, it’s hard for to be open, it almost feels like something is keeping you quiet

🎒having your south node conjunct your ascendant can indicate having a hawt body🥵, I think this is because south node is a body without a head so there’s emphasis on physicality to a native that has this specific configuration

🎒that being said if you have the south node conjunction ascendant you could be a little clueless in life, you’d do well to get a therapist or a support system of some kind!

🎒if you have Saturn in the 6H you could have fears of picking up new habits and or hobbies, allow yourself to have fun with whatever you do, don’t be too hard on yourself and make baby steps in getting over your fears!

🎒 Did you know boredom is related to the 2H? Spend some time analyzing your 2H to see how to alleviate some of your boringgg boreeddddnesss

🎒you should be careful if your Martian dominant, I’ve noticed that people around you will likely try and control you or use you in some way shape or form, I’m not too keen on why this is cause Mars the planet is literally like dominant, but I feel it’s because of all of the raw power these natives have rocking in their system that people would want to use them for their own personal gain

🎒study your Mercury placement more if you want to understand how your charisma works, Mercury is related to things like conversation and communication skills, this is imperative to know when you want to impress!

🎒as someone who has experienced 12H synastry I want you to know that this is incredibly intense and mature energy to work with, one of the ways that a connection can fall apart is by doing nothing. If you do not make the effort to communicate intentions or talk about your feelings it’s a sure fire way to fall into a fog of confusion or uncertainty.

🎒8H synastry is also very mature and heavy energy, I’d say when you’re in a relationship like this be deliberate with your actions and make a point to explain yourself, 8H deals with mystery and vulnerability, relationships with this will do well by just explaining themselves not in a nagging way but rather in a caring way.

🎒while on relationships I just want to say I love earth venus placements for being so touchy and sweet, it kinda makes sense that one of these natives’ love language is physical touch but I just wanted to say that !

End of observations! It’s been a longgggg while since last I’ve made a post like this, I’ve been busy with life and trying to figure out things for myself, still haven’t found the answers I’m looking for but at least I’m getting closer to the answer I want yk?

Likes and reposts are appreciated 🩵