#stays engraved in my hear forever

[fly-sky-high-09]

Weird string of posts made me remember something from the uni days

For our Movie Language (language of movies??) class we had a prof who was unusual at first glance.

She would show up earlier to the classroom to write down noted on the whiteboard, set the classroom up for the movie or clip viewing like it's a little cinema and demand punctuation when class is in session and have students present on time. (I know this sounds basic but more often we's have prof late for their own classes due to stuff that has to be done in the professor lounge or something, or students would just pop in the classroom however)

She would start the lecture on point, go through her notes and seem strict about them, she disliked any kind of interruptions and be openly upset if students were late or being distraction but despite her bitter mood she would even start the lesson over if needed just so students who are late would hear it.

She would also sometimes misread the tone of the questions and be very snappy with answers, assuming they were mocking her and I was very taken aback by that but as class went on I kind of understood why she was defensive.

She was very different from any prof we had at the uni, her social cues were off but her lectures and explaining were open and understanding. You could see movies, from filmmaking to finished works were biggest passion and thus her profession.

When we would watch many of the movies in class or film festivals that were usually indie, experimental and such, she would ALWAYS take a front sit, get herself comfortable and focus on the movie through and through. She would, unfortunately for easily distracted me, also talk to point out interesting bits during the movies without pausing which was hard for me to keep up but she did liked to praise the scenes or explain why they work. She did respect the silence of the theatres tho, that's when I saw her the most focused on.

I enjoyed her class even if sometimes we'd have quite a bit of miscommunication. I will not know or remeber any of the movies I've seen in her class despite watching them through, nor actors nor directors nor stories. But it was an interesting experience, even if the one who enjoyed these the most was professor herself. I mostly picked up on language of movie making because preproduction and storyboarding was what interested me the most at the time.

[gubsbuubs]

Friendly Cupid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, slow burn? smut, creampie.

Summary: Despite their closeness, Y/N and Spencer's relationship always stayed within the bounds of friendship. That's until a very fateful Valentine's Day, when a friend decided to play cupid.

A/N: Hi my loves! The "Friends to Lovers" trope won the poll, thanks to your votes. Any thoughts or suggestions for what's next? I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

My requests are open!

English is not my first language.

The team basked in a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as we settled into our seats on the jet, heading back home after successfully closing another case. The subtle hum of the engines seemed to echo the collective satisfaction that enveloped us.

We had just finished a case where the unsub targeted individuals with a deep passion for books. Each victim was chosen based on their preference for a particular literary work. The killer orchestrated scenarios inspired by famous novels, challenging us to decipher the connections between the crime scenes and the literary references.

From my seat across from his, at the meeting table in the Nevada police department's, I observed Spencer in awe. His deep concentration, the way his fingers danced over the pages, and the thoughtful furrow of his brow—he looked so handsome, absorbed in the task of perusing a pile of books that would have taken me at least two years to read.

I cherished watching Spencer at work; his intellect, passion, and dedication were captivating. There was an undeniable admiration that had grown within me as we spent countless hours in shared pursuit of justice.

I vividly recall the first time our connection became something more. After a grueling case left him drained, slowly succumbing to fatigue, his head found refuge on my shoulder during the flight back. It was an unexpectedly intimate encounter—his tousled hair brushing against my neck and the faint scent of lemon shampoo lingering close to my nose. Though innocent, the closeness left an indelible mark, and often I think about the weight of his head resting against me.

Fast forward to another sweet moment; it was forever engraved in my mind when I first noticed that he cared for me. Spencer and I were staked out in a park that an unsub used to frequent in Boston. The autumn winds whispered through the colorful foliage, and the chilling breeze made my arms shiver. It was getting cold, and I scolded myself for not bringing my jacket. Spencer, ever observant, noticed how I hugged myself for warmth and asked, "Hey, are you cold?"

"What? No, it's just a bit chilly, but I can take it," I chuckled, my teeth almost clacking against each other as I shivered.

"I can clearly see you're cold, Y/N."

"Okay, fine. I may be a little bit cold; we left in a hurry, and I forgot my jacket," I admitted.

Without hesitation, he took off his FBI jacket and handed it to me. "No, Spencer, I can't accept this. If it's cold for me, it will be cold for you too," I protested.

"Compared to men, women have less muscle, which is a natural heat producer. They also have 6 to 11 percent more body fat than men, which keeps the inner organs toasty but blocks the flow of blood carrying heat to the skin and extremities." He started to ramble while holding the jacket in front of me.

So I gave up, not wanting to hear him talk about this for the rest of the night, and accepted his offer. As the jacket touched my body, I could still feel his warmth, and the scent of his perfume enveloped me. His tall stature made the jacket too big for me, and I struggled with the oversized jacket's zipper. Looking down as I tried to zip it, I felt his hand on mine. "Hey, come here! Let me help you." I looked up to meet his beautiful brown eyes as he held his gaze on mine. His gentle hands zipped up the jacket. "There you go; now you'll feel warm," he added with a sweet smile.

We had a connection—an undeniable force drawing us together. For example, with Spencer and I, the casual "sorry, Y/n, passing through" was never just a phrase; it accompanied the gentle press of his hand on my side.

When shared laughter ensued, it almost always led to a playful nudge against my shoulder, a light and affectionate gesture.

And there were times when Spencer would reach out with a reassuring touch on my arm during tense discussions or a challenging moment. His fingertips, feather-light yet grounding, conveyed a silent reassurance that we were in this together.

I’d like to think that our connection extended beyond the realm of solving cases and catching serial killers, finding roots in those quiet spaces between words, because unspoken sentiments resonated louder than any conversation we had.

These simple and innocent touches left me curious, especially considering Spencer's general aversion to physical contact, often sidestepping handshakes. Each touch, though understated, carried a significance that lingered, prompting me to ponder the depths of our friendship.

Yet, somehow, we were never more than friends. Perhaps because of the lingering fear of disrupting the delicate balance we had, I hesitated to act upon the emotions that quietly blossomed within.

So, Spencer and I stayed comfortably within the boundaries of friendship, keeping the unexplored depths of our connection confined to the realm of what-ifs and maybes.

Rather than risking it all, I chose the simplicity of silent observation and opted for the quiet intimacy of just watching him while he worked. There was an unspoken fascination with witnessing Spencer's mind at play.

The breakthrough came when Spencer uncovered a pattern in the victims' book preferences, his face lighting up at the realization. The Unsub, it seemed, orchestrated his killings based on the ominous narratives found within these chosen novels. Each victim unwittingly acquired a literary prelude to their tragic end as the killer turned the pages of their lives into a haunting script of their own demise.

With this knowledge, we were able to predict the next target and swoop in just in time to prevent another tragedy. The final confrontation took place in an abandoned library, where the unsub attempted to stage his twisted interpretation of a tragic love story. With swift and coordinated action, we thwarted his plans and brought justice to the victims.

So, with the unsub's twisted plans foiled, we found solace in the fact that we had saved the couple from his dark intentions.

Amidst the chatter on the jet, the mood shifted to a more relaxed and celebratory tone. The weight of the case had dissipated, replaced by a comforting conversation and shared laughter.

"Hey, Prentiss, any hot plans for Valentine's Day? Morgan teased, giving Emily a mischievous grin.

"Valentine's Day? Seriously, Morgan? After all the chaos of this week, I just want a quiet night with a good bottle of wine," Emily responded, leaning further into her seat.

"Valentine's Day is this weekend, and I completely forgot! Will and I will have to just stay at home," JJ confessed, sounding a bit bummed.

"Well, Beth and I will be taking Jack to the cinema to watch a movie. Would you like us to also take Henry so you and Will can have a date?" Hotch offered.

"Oh, Hotch, that’s very sweet. If you don't mind, yes! We would really appreciate it," JJ replied gratefully.

"What about you, pretty boy? Got any plans?" Morgan playfully mussed up Spencer's hair.

"Well… I…” He cleared his throat. "I, um… I actually do have a date," Spencer stammered, his face immediately turning a bright shade of red.

"A date, Reid? Come on, spill the details. What's her name?" Morgan proceeded to probe.

“It's a blind date, so I'd rather not jinx it by talking about it.” Spencer spoke with a faint smile.

As I learned about Spencer's date, I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the sheer coincidence—both of us had blind dates on Valentine's Day. What were the odds?

Then it hit me, and as much as I tried to dismiss it, there was a subtle pang of envy that Spencer also had a date. I understood the irony of feeling jealous while I was also going on a blind date this weekend.

Earlier that week, my friend from the previous division I worked in—International Affairs and Counterterrorism—set me up with a guy. According to him, this guy was perfect for me—smart, kind, and seemingly attuned to my taste. So, I've decided to give it a shot and go on this date. It was Valentine's Day after all. So yes, I was also going on a date, and I acknowledged how contradictory it sounded to feel envious of Spencer's date. Nevertheless, a twinge of jealousy lingered.

Yet, in the grand scheme, I genuinely wished for Spencer to have a fantastic time this weekend. After all, we were nothing more than friends, and his happiness was something I truly valued.

Morgan, with a playful glint in his eye, turned his attention to me and chimed, "Alright, Reid's stepping into the world of romance, so what's the deal, Y/N? Any Valentine's plans on your agenda?"

"No, I don't really have plans. It'll be a normal weekend for me." I spoke with a smile, gently sidestepping Morgan's inquiry. I preferred to keep certain aspects of my life private, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Saturday night came around pretty quickly.

I chose a simple red dress and black stilettos for the occasion—it was Valentine's Day, after all, and opportunities for dates were not a frequent occurrence for me. Since joining the FBI, I haven't had many opportunities to look like this. Typically reserved for pantsuits and white shirts, it was refreshing to see myself look so put-together.

What awaited me on this evening could be a mistake or, just maybe, the start of something unexpectedly wonderful. Despite the flutter of reservations in my stomach, I resolved to push through the uncertainty.

Before stepping inside, I paused at the entrance, reminding myself to take a deep breath; it was just a date after all—no need to be nervous. The restaurant, my absolute favorite, bore the name "Bella Luna," renowned for its delectable pastas. It had become my go-to spot for a delightful meal, offering a perfect blend of cozy ambiance and culinary excellence.

My friend, the mastermind behind this blind date, had given the gentleman a specific directive: reserve the table with a view of the river—my favorite spot in the house. This strategic move not only catered to my preferences but also had the practical benefit of simplifying the identification of my date.

As I stood by the entrance, lost in my thoughts, I almost jumped, caught by surprise, as someone bumped into me. "Hey, where were you goi..."

“Y/N! Hi!” His eyes were widening with surprise as he recognized me.

“Spencer! Hi! I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing. Didn’t you say you didn’t have plans?” He asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Yeah!" I laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I, uh, decided to give in to the Valentine's Day spirit, I suppose." Spencer chuckled softly, his warm demeanor putting me at ease.

"How are you anyway, feeling good about your blind date?" I inquired, genuinely curious about his well-being.

"To be honest," he admitted, "I'm actually kind of nervous."

"What? Why?"

He hesitated before sharing, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why wouldn't she like you?" The words left my mouth so fast, a testament to my incomprehension of how someone could not like the guy standing before me.

"Because I'm weird. I slouch; my hair's too long; my tie's perpetually crooked." His words were almost a whisper, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

I smiled softly, reaching  my hands to fix his crooked tie. "Here, your tie is now straight. And Spencer, you're not weird; you look really good tonight. I think you'll do very well."

He smiled softly, thanking me, and said, "Well, you do too! You look very beautiful tonight, Y/N.” My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. He blushed slightly before adding, “I should really get going. I don't want to be late for my date.”

“Go get him, tiger,” I encouraged with a smile as I stayed behind, watching him leave.

Fuck, he looked so good; his dark blue suit fit him in all the right places. Though not a radical departure from his usual attire, the effort put into his appearance fueled my jealousy. The realization that he was heading on a date with someone else lingered in my thoughts, intensifying the sting.

To make matters worse, we´re at the same restaurant, and I would have to endure the evening watching him, attempting to engage in my own date while inwardly yearning for his company.

The challenge would be to keep my eyes from straying towards him, wishing the girl by his side was me.

Shaking my head to dispel thoughts of Spencer, I took a deep breath before entering the restaurant. I traversed the restaurant, consciously keeping my head down until I arrived at the table with the view of the river, and it was only then that I allowed myself to look around.

To my surprise, when I looked at the table, I found Spencer sitting there.

Confusion clouded my mind as I stood there, staring at Spencer, seated at the table, facing away from me. Disbelief hung in the air like a heavy fog. This had to be a misunderstanding; it couldn't be Spencer. My friend John specifically directed the blind date; he arranged for me to sit at this table, but Spencer was here.

The possibilities raced through my mind like a whirlwind of uncertainty. Did the receptionist make an error? Could there be another table with a view of the river where they seated my actual blind date? Could this guy look a lot like Spencer from behind? My thoughts spiraled into a maze of questions, each more perplexing than the last. I was caught in a web of doubt, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Could Spencer and John know each other? How would they even know each other? Although we all work at the FBI, they work in totally different divisions.

As I approached the table, just a few feet away, I confirmed my suspicion: it was him—Spencer. Even though he wasn't facing me, I recognized his curls, almost catching a whiff of his distinctive perfume. It was undeniably him. How did this happen?

My heels clacked on the ground, a sound that drew Spencer's attention. His gaze shifted, expecting another woman, preparing for a polite greeting. "Hi, nice to meet y…” His words now caught in his throat.

As I pulled the chair and sat down in front of him, he halted his movements, confusion etched on his face. It seemed like he was ready to stand up, perhaps shake hands, and greet another person. But as he realized it was me, his expression transformed into one of utter bewilderment.

"Y/N, what is going on?" Spencer asked, his face a mix of confusion and concern as he settled back into his chair.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "How do you know John Watters, Jonathan Watters?" I questioned, peering at him with an intense gaze.

"What? What do you mean, Y/N?" Spencer replied, clearly confused by the sudden turn of events.

"Spencer, how do you know John?" I repeated, my eyes locked onto his, seeking an explanation for the unexpected twist in our supposed blind date.

"John Watters and I play chess in the park. We met a couple of months ago, and now we play together regularly," Spencer explained, his confusion still evident in his expression. “Y/N, what is going on?” he added, his brow furrowing in concern.

���Spencer…” I began, a faint smile creeping onto my face as it reddened, my hands immediately meeting my face. It dawned on me; John had set us both up, and it seemed he might not have known Spencer and I already knew each other.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes widening. He seemed to have a eureka moment. "Do you know him?" he asked, his tone still a little unsure. I only nodded, my faint smile hidden behind my fingers, covering how embarrassed I was.

Then Spencer fired questions left and right. "What? How do you know John?” He set you up with me. Like… did you know? You wanted to have a date with me and asked him to do it? I mean, I have talked…." He was blushing like crazy, so I decided to interrupt.

"No, No... I mean, yes, but..." I stumbled on my words as I tried to answer. "I do know John, yes, but I didn't know he set us up... But yes, I wouldn't... I wouldn’t mind a date with you." The last part slipped my tongue way too quickly, the confession escaping my lips.

"Are you serious? A date with me?" He sounded excited but mostly surprised.

"I mean, we're already here, so we might as well do it. He clearly thought we were a good pair," I offered, keeping my head down. My face felt hot, and I was smiling like a stupid little kid.

“I can't believe this; I can't believe this is happening. You don't know how long I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you out, and now this is happening." His head fell back as he inhaled deeply. “Is this real? Can you pinch me, Y/N? You look so pretty, so beautiful. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must be dreaming." His excitement was palpable, and his gaze was fixed on me with a mix of joy and disbelief.

“You're definitely awake; this is real!” I reached out my hand to him and held his hand. “See, this is real—a very strange coincidence, but undeniably real.”

The evening unfolded gracefully. Spencer took my recommendation, and we ordered the Carbonara, complemented by a shared bottle of Cabernet. I couldn't help but savor the moments when our laughter harmonized, creating a melody of shared joy. A subtle warmth spread across our faces, not just from the ambiance but also from the wine. Our laughter became a touch more carefree, perhaps a little tipsy, adding an extra layer of delight to the evening. The restaurant seemed to fade into the background as we continued to enjoy each other’s company.

As the plates were cleared away and the restaurant emptied out, Spencer's gaze remained locked on mine. We sat in silence for a little bit as a warm feeling settled, enjoying the lingering aura of the evening. Spencer smiled softly, leaning closer to me and taking my hands in his. "Let me walk you home," he suggests. "It's a beautiful night, and I'd love to spend more time with you."

As we stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights played on the surface of the river, casting a gentle glow on our path. Spencer and I began to stroll along the riverbank towards my apartment. The soft murmur of the water provided a soothing background to our conversation, and amidst our banter, our attention was drawn to an old lady with a basket of roses.

"Hello there," the old lady said, greeting Spencer with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you like to buy a rose for your beautiful girlfriend?"

"Oh, but I'm not his girlf..." Before I could clarify, Spencer, wearing a confident smile, chimed in, "Yet..." He told the sweet lady "So yes, I would love to buy her a rose." He turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

The old lady chuckled warmly. "Here you go, young man, a rose for your not-yet-girlfriend. May your love bloom as beautifully as this rose," she said, handing the vibrant flower to Spencer.

I thanked him as he handed me the rose, appreciating the beautiful gesture. We then continued our walk, the soft glow of the city lights guiding our way.

"So, a rose for the 'not-yet-girlfriend'," I teased, a playful smile on my lips.

"Well," he began, "I thought a rose might be a good start, but who's to say what the future holds?"

"Fair enough," I replied, a teasing glint in my eye. "A rose is a good start but what's your plan for the rest of our 'not-yet' journey?"

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about this," he began, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I won't disappoint you, that's for sure."

I felt a subtle warmth spread—a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "Is that so?" I replied with a playful glint in my eye. "I guess I'll have to wait and see what surprises you have in store.”

As we continued our walk to my apartment and reached my doorstep, the night seemed to invite us to linger a little longer.

"I had a lot of fun, Y/N. I regretted every moment we weren't doing this sooner," Spencer confessed.

"I loved this night too, Spencer," I began, a genuine warmth in my voice. "This is not how I imagined my night ending at all; I definitely never expected you to be my blind date."

"I just can't believe this happened. Who would have thought you would go on a date with me?" His soft hand reached for mine; his touch was warm and inviting.

"Well, Jonathan apparently did," I laughed, the surreal nature of the evening sinking in.

"Of course, he thinks I want to date you. I talk about you all the time..." Spencer shyly admitted, his gaze avoiding mine.

"Wait! You talk about me?" My voice lifted with happiness.

"Well, I just tell him about my day... and how I love being by your side. You're so understanding, always listening to me. Your attentive gaze makes my heart skip a beat, and your eyes, Y/N, they sparkle so beautifully. And your smile—oh, it's the prettiest I've ever seen." His words were tender, and his brown eyes never left mine. "Jonathan never told me he knew you; I guess he sensed I was too scared to act upon my feelings and took matters in to his own hands." He chuckled. "And now you're here, and we went on this date—a wonderful date, may I add—and you look absolutely stunning."

As Spencer's words lingered in the quiet night, I felt a soft warmth enveloping us and an unspoken connection deepening.

"I would really to kiss you." He whisperd. His gaze held a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability, mirroring the sentiments that resonated within me.

"You know what, Spence?" I began, a gentle smile playing on my lips. "I'd really like that too."

His eyes brightened with joy, and as if a shared understanding passed between us, he leaned in slowly. His hands cradled my face, creating an intimate connection as he closed the remaining space between us. The world around us faded into a soft blur as our lips finally met.

The kiss was tender, his lips warm and inviting, and the sensation sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

As we pulled away, a shared smile painted across our faces, our foreheads pressed together in a moment of quiet closeness.

"Wow," Spencer whispered.

"Wow indeed," I replied, my heart echoing the sentiment.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," he said, kissing me again, this time with more force and desire.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing against mine with a newfound intensity, fueled by the longing we had both harbored for so long. It was a fusion of heat and tenderness, with each movement deliberate and purposeful.

His hands, which had cradled my face so gently before, now moved with a purpose, exploring the contours of my back and waist. The taste of him was intoxicating—a blend of warmth and desire that left me breathless.

"Spencer," I began, feeling our breaths mingle. "Would you like to come in?

Spencer's eyes darkened in response, his nod signaling his agreement.

As the door shut behind us, I carefully placed the rose he gave me on a small side table by the entrance, wanting to preserve the sweet gesture. Spencer, without saying a word, pulled me against him again.

I guided us through the familiar space of my home with an urgency that spoke of unspoken desires. As we reached the bedroom, our bodies entwined again.

I laid back on the bed, letting my body sink into the softness of the mattress. Spencer's body was right above mine, and our lips met in a hot, messy kiss. It was like everything else melted away, and all that was left was us in this moment. I could feel the heat of his body on top of mine, and the rush of intimacy was palpable. I wanted this moment to last forever, clinging tight to his every touch.

Spencer's hands glided along the curves of my body, caressing me with an intimacy that left me wanting more. His lips left mine to roam lower, descending slowly towards my breasts. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my chest.

Spencer's voice broke through the intensity. "Are you sure?"

A smile played on my lips as I whispered, "Yes, please Spence."

The sudden touch of his finger on my skin sent a shiver down my spine as his hand slowly drifted down my shoulder and pulled the strap of my dress down. As my nipple became exposed, he kissed it gently, sending a wave of arousal through my body.

He looked so pretty like this; his smooth hand cradled my breast as his lips left soft kisses. His slow hums of satisfaction were accompanied by the thrusts of his hips against my clothed core.

Sensing the escalating desire between us, Spencer then took the initiative, smoothly pulling my dress off. I felt exposed as his hands traveled down my body, lowering himself and planting soft kisses on my stomach.

"You look so beautiful and you smell so good." His whispers of admiration filled the air. "I bet you taste even better." He placed a soft kiss where I wanted him the most. I moaned at his words, not expecting them.

He then proceeded to slide my panties to the side, slowly licking a long stripe. The warmth of his tongue against my skin sent shivers through my body, and the anticipation built with every teasing touch.

“Fuck, it's even better than I imagined." His words were muffled as he spoke from between my legs, looking into my eyes. My moans filled the room, joined by the sound of his mouth devouring my wetness. My hands met his hair as I pulled him closer by his curls.

"Spencer..." My voice caught in my throat.

"What, baby?" The enduring name leaving his lips made my heart flutter.

"I need you," I pleaded.

"Need me to what, baby?" His middle finger breached my entrance. "Use your words," he said, caressing my opening. The sensation of his finger chills of pleasure down my spine. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and I could feel a rush of arousal building inside me. "I need you inside, please," I begged, moving my body against his.

Sensing my urge, he stood, undressing me and then himself. "Since you asked so nicely," he lined up and slowly sank in, his head resting on my shoulder, and his soft moan muffled on my neck.

Our kisses were slow and passionate, our lips brushing against each other with every movement of our bodies. His hands caressed my body, sending a wave of pleasure through me that only increased with every thrust.

Each rhythmic movement brought us closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each caress and whispered word. "You feel so good, Y/N; it’s like you were made for me." Spencer's voice was laden with desire as I moaned into his lips.

The intensity grew with each passionate thrust, and we were both lost in a world of pleasure. Our bodies were tightly intertwined, pressed up against each other as we let our emotions take over. Our moans filled the room, and our breathing became shallow and fast. We both wanted this moment to last forever, clinging to each other with all the strength we could muster.

"Spencer, I can't,” I cried out.

"Can you hold it for me, just a little, pretty girl?" he said, looking into my eyes. My eyes fluttered, closing at the words.

"No, no, no, keep your eyes on me," he said. "Yes, just like that." He kept thrusting with force, and I couldn't take it anymore. “I want to see your pretty face as you cum, baby.”

"Spence... please inside." I begged him, and that was all it took. I didn't have to wait any longer. The tension in the room reached its peak, and I could feel him release, his climax echoing mine.

Our bodies trembled together in the aftermath, the shared intensity of the moment lingering in the air. The room was filled with the sounds of our rapid breaths and the soft rustle of sheets as we came down from the euphoric high.

As we lay there, a playful smile crossed Spencer's lips. "So, about that 'not-yet-girlfriend' situation..." he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled, tracing circles on his chest. "Well, it looks like we just fast-tracked that process."

Spencer grinned. "Guess we skipped a few steps."

I gave him a playful look. "Steps? Who needs steps when you have Jonathan playing cupid?”.

Spencer gave a playful shrug. "Well, I'll be sure to thank the man.”

[infictionalwonderland]

hot physiotherapist | j.potter

SUMMARY, james has a rugby accident and has to take physiotherapy - he’s pretty down about, but all that depressions forgotten as soon as he sees you, his physiotherapist. why had he not done this sooner?

James Potter was miserable.

A very odd occurrence, although it did happen (evidently). He was pouting the whole way as Remus drove them to the physiotherapists, Sirius was giggling to himself in the backseat the whole time—Remus, ever the angel he was, tried to cheer James up by giving him complete control over the music in the car and even greeting him with his coffee order and a chocolate croissant.

James was still miserable.

“Have fun, darling boy!” Sirius chirped out the window as James got out of the car, “try not to break any bones on your way in. God forbid you need physiotherapy.”

He burst out into borderline manic cackles and fell down completely into the row of backseats, never one to wear his seatbelt as he hated being constricted—James glared with upmost venom and hatred at the backseat windows, Tarzan looking cunt.

“I hope everything goes well.” Remus’ voiced gently, shooting his boyfriend a blank stare even as he tried to stop his own amusement. “D’ya want me to fetch you any food or anything for you when you come out?”

“No. Thanks.”

Remus winced.

James was still miserable.

He trotted his way indoors, cursing inside his head at the shooting pains all up his back and his hips, with the largest pout there ever was he made his way over to the reception and told them who he was—why he was here, before behind asked to take a seat in one of the rooms where he would be joined shortly by the physiotherapist.

He sat, frowning at the large room with equipment and soft turquoise coloured walls for a short about of time and then the door opened.

And then his world stopped.

In you stepped. . your hair was tugged into a low ponytail, front strands out of the pony to frame your face. He had died, he was certain. Your skin looked so soft, the beaming white lights giving you the most heavenly glow, he was sure you were an actual angel. Your eyes gleamed beautifully, and he was lost in the exact shade of them—trying to pinpoint every little detail and speck of colour. Your lips were pulled into such a fucking lovely smile, he could’ve melted (he did melt). Even from where you stood in the door, he was greeted in the pleasant aroma of your perfume and he felt like he was floating.

Your mouth was open—oh my god he was missing an opportunity to hear your voice—wait, what had you been saying. Balls.

“Um—h—muhuh?”

Double balls.

Your beautiful smile didn’t even waver in the slightest, though, amusement weaved it’s way into your eyes and created a mesmerising pattern into your irises that he forever engraved into his memory.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Potter! My names Y/N and I’ll be your physiotherapist for the foreseeable future.” You grinned, walking closer to him, “Hopefully.”

Wha—was that flirting? No! You had said it in a normal tone, like Hi I hope I stay your physiotherapist because it is literally my job, James and I enjoy it. But—yeah, no. It was like that. You were so close to him now—so so much more beautiful up close, he didn’t think that was even humanly attainable.

“Yeah—i—I hope so too, ma’am.”

MA’AM?!

Somebody sedate me, he thought.

You didn’t seem thrown off or even slightly offended, or disgusted by him. Which was, good, really, really good.

Instead, you let out this little bubbly burst of laughter and fucking hell, James knew from that point he was gone and could never return. His eyes were probably comically wide and maybe in literal heart shapes but he could truly care less. He look at you in awe—your nose scrunched when you laughed, your eyes squinted and to James you just became even more perfect.

“Please, call me Y/N—Ma’am sounds overly American anyway—“

“Would you prefer Miss?”

I’m never leaving the house again.

You blinked.

He almost stumbled to his knees in apology though that would obviously only give you the impression he was more of a creep than you already thought he was—but—hold on. He watched, mouth falling open just slightly, as your cheeks flushed a very very pretty pink and your mouth formed into the cutest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He was definitely leaving the house again, and it was going to be to come here everyday.

“Just Y/N is fine, thank you for being so considerate though.” You laughed teasingly.

“Can I be upgraded to just James?”

“Oh? You don’t want to he called miss? Or Ma’am?” You grinned at him, white teeth glistening from under your full lips, cheeks turning a faint rosy shade under the strength of your grin and a strand of hair swooping in front of your eye. He was in love. “Or, Sir maybe?”

Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

James is one hundred percent that he would’ve fallen over fast first had he been standing and he’s never been more thankful he’s not. He can feel his cheeks turn red—his face heating up to an embarrassingly tomato red state at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“Nah—Ju—Just James, please.” He huffed out, moving the material of his shirt dramatically off his chest and fanning himself. “Is—um, is it hot in here or is just you? Me! Is it just me?!”

You smile at him, adorably crinkle eyed and slightly pink cheeked, looking every bit the goddess and the angel James already knew with certainty that you were.

James Potter was, as it turns out, no longer miserable.

In fact, he can’t wait for his next appointment.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him. 

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked. 

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that. 

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.  

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant. 

He’s not Steve. 

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk? 

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily. 

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again. 

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place. 

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.  

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward. 

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him. 

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. 

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you. 

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.” 

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?” 

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears.  He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question. 

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.” 

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad. 

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more. 

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath. 

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead. 

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

[maopll]

omg hi I love ur work this is so exciting

honestly I’d be happy with anything you made so please just hcs for all your faves!! thank you!

shall I compare thee to a summer's day ?

#genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: making my come back again after 2 months. wrote this in class pls take it. don't even know if this is actually a headcanon or not mate.

⌗:, warning: childe's real name, mention of endearments in many.

⌗:, pairings: childe, kaeya,zhongli, diluc, ayato, neuvillette, wriothesley, beidou w/ gn!reader (separately)

CHILDE

He works day and night just to be by your side when you go to sleep. He can't let you sleep alone on that cold bed. He comes everyday and falls asleep while hugging your form. All the regrets and bloodlust now gone as he focuses on your sleeping peaceful form. He grows sentimental by the night and always worries about you 'how will you able to stay safe when I'm not here ?'. He is snapped back to reality when you softly speak in a low voice "ajax? you're here" and smile while turning towards him. Even in the darkest of nights your smiles brings him the brightest of dawns. He hugs you tightly to his chest and kisses your forehead. This soft and sweet side of childe is what only you can see.

KAEYA

Being a cavalry captain means that he is quite efficient in the ways of welding swords and riding horses. Although they don't quite apply at present but he has taken you out on horse ridings for more than once. Riding through the vast forests and along with the wind. As the evening fell, you two rested under a tree in Starsnatch Cliff while watching the sun set in each others arms. He held you close to him as he softly kissed you. Oh, how beautiful you looked as the suns rays fell on you. He could cherish this moment forever...however fleeting moments of happiness are best savoured when they are short-lived as they would continue to stay engraved in his minds for years to come...for centuries to last.

ZHONGLI

Hands intertwined with his big ones as you two strided along the coast of the sea. It was twilight, almost dusk. The cool breeze of the sea, accompanied by the lulling of the waves, all seemed so surreal. You were smiling brightly, and Zhongli felt that you looked ethereal. For all the years he's lived, he's never felt so loved and so lucky to have someone by his side. The lovesick moment between you and your lover was sealed by a kiss from Zhongli. Oh, how can you look so beautiful?

DILUC

Maids hear the sound of the gramophone from your and Diluc's shared room, but they just brushed it off thinking that it is you listening to the old mondstadt classics and waltz. Little do they know that the songs are on because two lovers are dancing to it. A cherished pastime of his as he softly holds you close to him. Steps careful and synchronized. The sound of footsteps, the symphony from the gramophone, and the glowing orange embers of the sun illunitaing the room through lace curtains. A dreamlike landscape. He looked at you with lovesick eyes, the same eyes he looked at you with when he first proposed to you. A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes, taking in the moment with you.

AYATO

Atop the cliff of Amakane Island, you and ayato were writing your wishes on the lantern, which would then float up to the skies to receive the blessings of the archon...as per the story goes. The lanterns glow illuminated your faces as Ayato carefully admired your face. 'you look so radiant tonight love' he thought to himself and then chuckling because of how helplessly he is in love with you. "Love I'm done writing should we let it go now?" you said excitedly and he humed in approval. The lantern was then let go off and it found its place among the blanket of stars in the night sky. Your lover held you close to him as he kissed you on the forehead, taking in the ethereal quietness and serenity of the moment

NEUVILLETTE

On the soft green grass, the melusines played as you carefully groomed Neuvillette's long hair. You braided it and added a few freshly picked rainbow roses and lumidouce bells to his hair. "Are the flowers necessary dear?" "nope! you look absolutely gorgeous love, don't take them off". He was about to retort until the melusines also agreed that he looked pretty with the flowers. He hesitantly agreed but if it means that it will put a smile on your face he will gladly do so. Putting the flower crown on top of your head that one of the melusines had made before, he held you close to him. He never felt so peaceful in all of his lifetime. It was a blessing to spend the day with his beloved and also with the melusines he adores so much. A smile broke out in his face as you all continued with your day. It seems that the sun will shine for quite a while today.

WRIOTHESLEY

Brewing tea with you always had such a wholesome domestic vibe to it. You boiled the water as he selected his and yours' favourite tea. Being his lover made you knowledgeable about all the types and kinds of tea and the techniques required to brew them. "Honey, you can put in the tea now. I'll go grab the cups." he added the required amount and waited for it to be complete. He listened intently to the song you were humming...what was the name again? oh! it was one of fontaine's classics. After it was done, you two enjoyed the tea in silence. It was comforting since most of the days inside the Fortress of Meropide is spent is hustle and bustle and matters related to the maintenance and whatnot. Moments like these were sparse, but he thoroughly enjoyed the little time he spent with you.

BEIDOU

Once the crux fleets arrives at the harbour, the first place Beidou takes you to is Wangmin restaurant or to any other local food stalls there are in the liyue harbour. From the spiciest of dry braised fish or stew to sweet and savoury rice puddings or even the fanciest of rice wines. All of them in one night. "Haha! I hope you are enjoying today, love days like these might come after a long time! maybe even months!" and she proceeded to chug down her entire bottle of wine. "thanks for this day beidou, I love you" you said as you drank your own wine. It was a full moon night and the sky was brighter than on any other day. What an eventful day it was with the captain of the Crux fleet!

[jeezybipsman]

Hello! Could you write something about Harry being teased about his stutter by the boys and is now kinda embarrassed to speak to the reader? Like fluffy/comforting fluff <3

I LOVE this!

Warnings: swearing/talks of sex

Sorry if this is short! My first imagine :)

—- —————————————————————————————————————————————-

“Okay Harry, what do you think.”

It was a Wednesday, Harry was surrounded by his best mates, laughters bouncing off the walls of the enclosed space as they filmed for side+. He wasn’t a natural at things like this, he struggled with being honest, it wasn’t his thing.

“W-what’s the t-t-t-topic boys?”

Giggles circled the room as Simon, Jj and Ethan sat laughing like school boys in the mics.

“Fuck me Harold, why are you bad with words?”

“Uh”

“How come your all flustered man?”

“Are you horny bro? Are you wanking?”

The boys threw questions at him, making the poor boys mind go cloudy.

“S-s-s-s-sorry.”

The boys were finding it hilarious, thinking Harry was all flustered, when in reality he was only thinking of what you both wanted for tea.

“Anyways” Simon tried to move on, already bored of Harry’s stutter as they were often used to it.

——— — - - ————————————————————————————————————————————

It was late, you were sat all cosy in your bed with your favourite snacks, patiently waiting for your lover to waltz through them doors and into your arms.

“Hi Y/N,” the room was quiet, a shy man stood at your shared bedroom door. Sadness displayed across his face as he flops onto the bed.

“Why the long face bog?” You were genuinely confused, it was easy for you to read Harry, you knew him well and reckoned you had every mood he struck onto his face engraved in your brain.

Silence.

“Harry?”

More silence filled your room as you focused your attention on him.

He edged closer, until he repositioned himself on top of you, head buried on your chest as he held you tight. Still not daring to say a thing.

You didn’t know what to do in this situation, did you help him? Did you leave him alone? Your hands moved to his head, scratching it as your other hand nestled into his hair.

“I-I wasn’t really concentrated t-today, the boys.” He breathed like he’d ran a marathon, clearly out of breath from talking.

“What did the boys do Harold?”

“T-they laughed, called me fl-flustered, Jj reckoned i was horny” he giggled, you smiled. Hearing his little laugh made you go funny inside, it made you warm.

“Just chill out, stay calm and slow down with your words, you know your too clever for your big mouth.”

You felt his lips raise on your chest, knowing he was smiling at you.

“You know I don’t care how you speak, your my best friend and my boyfriend and your stutter makes you perfect, I don’t want a clever clogs with a professional speaking voice. I want w2s and his stutter, because that’s what makes me happy.”

“What would I do without you ay?”

“I reckon you’d stutter your way through life my boy.”

— ————————————————————————————————————————-

It was now Friday, you still hasn’t had much conversation with Harry, clearly too bothered about the boys, you knew he felt bad.

But as you walked through the kitchen, a goofy man with a huge smile and the biggest bunch of roses you’d ever seen was stood waiting for you.

“I know I don’t tell you enough. But I love you, I’m sorry I’m bad at communicating, I try, All for you.”

“All for me?”

“All for you, always and forever for you.”

[talaok]

Could you please write an imagine where Pedro and reader know each other for a very long time and reader comes from a not so happy family (unlike Pedro)

He’s in love with her and she does love him but does believe love is real or that relationships can last (thinking everyone only wants her for her body from past flings) and can’t give him a chance due to fear

Happy ending if you want

Thanks

warnings: angst, and brief talk about reader's bad childhood

a/n: im starting to honestly think yall should start writing fics, cause the shit you come up with is so good like

The first time you told him you were 13.

You had showed up at his doorsteps asking for a place to sleep.

You couldn't stand another minute of hearing your parents scream at each other two doors down.

They hadn't even noticed you were gone, they never did.

He was your only real friend at the time, and after a sort of awkward moment with his parents, he'd led you to his room and asked what had happened.

And that's the first time he heard the sentence he'd grow to hate.

"Love isn't real. It never lasts"

Your parents were the proof. Love is a trap, it deceives you into thinking you can spend your life with someone, when really, all you're doing is locking yourself into a cage, and when you finally realize what you've done, it will be too late, because then you'll be scared to get out, to start new, and that's why you'll stay, forever imprisoned because your own stupid choices.

From then on, it became your mantra.

With every guy who disappeared after having gotten you into bed, with every guy who dumped you as soon as they'd seen what's underneath your clothes, one sentence engraved itself in your mind.

Love isn't real. Love isn't real. Love isn't real.

And that's why, he, of all people, knew better than anyone why he shouldn't tell you, why he should continue pretending like he'd been doing for almost twenty years,

Maybe he was a masochist, or maybe his feelings were getting too strong and they had started to fog his brain, but he couldn't hold it in anymore, he'd kept it hidden for too long, and no matter how many women he'd meet there was always you in the back of his mind.

It had always been you.

And that's why tonight... tonight he had finally let go.

"Y/n, I love you" 

He saw you freeze before his eyes, shocked and terrified of the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, swiping his sweaty hands on his jeans and looking around your living room to try and gather some composure. "I'm sorry to drop this on you like this. I know how you feel about the whole... love thing" he winced internally as his eyes set anywhere but on yours "And- and I don't want to ruin our friendship, and it's ok if you don't feel the same way, but..." He swallowed what felt like sand in his mouth as he finally looked into your eyes "Y/n I've felt this way for so fucking long" he breathed "I-I think I was too young to understand it when we met, but as we grew up it just became clearer and clearer and... and I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore y/n, I'm sorry"

His words felt distant, muffled.

You felt like you were drowning and he was trying to talk to you from above the water.

He'd just told you the three words you dreaded most in the world, and now you didn't know what to do, or say, or even think.

And it wasn't the same as when any of your old boyfriends had said it, no, with him, with Pedro, those words scared you because they meant so much more, 

because they reached into that deep, hidden part of you that... that felt the same way.

And that part of you was hidden for a reason, that part of you was the only thing that prevented you from becoming like your mom, from falling into the trap.

And now he'd just handed you the keys, and all you needed to do was decide to open the lock.

And you didn't know if you wanted to.

"I don't want to lose you y/n, the last thing I want is to lose you, you- you're the most important person in my life, I-I'd be lost without you, so if you don't feel the same way, it's fine, I promise it's fine, I can take it, but before you say anything I just want you to know that when I say I love you I mean it," Both your hearts were beating faster than they'd ever beaten before"I mean I love every single part of you, every single inch, that I love you when you sing off-tune and I love you when you call me in the middle of the night" he laughed "That- that I wake up and go to sleep thinking of you- that without you I wouldn't know how to breathe, that since I met you, I felt the need to become a better person so that maybe I'd deserve you." he said more softly now "And I'm sorry about your parents, and I'm sorry about everything that happened in your life, but I promise you that I'd never do anything to hurt you, that if you just give me a chance, I'll try my hardest to prove to you that love is real, that- that it can last if you just give it a try"

The soft roar of an engine made its way to your ears as a car drove by outside, the fabric of the couch felt itchy all of a sudden, and your breathing had become uneven.

You didn't know how long you both stayed silent, how long it took you to take in all he had just said, but when you finally opened your mouth, your voice didn't sound like your own.

"Pedro-" his eyes were filled with hope, but yours only with pain "Pedro you know how I feel about this" you murmured, like doctors did just as they delivered bad news "I'm sorry I- I can't do this, you know I can't... I just-" there was this feeling in your stomach, like all your organs were twisting, like your body was telling you you were making a mistake "I don't want to lose you, and I know that if we did... this, it would only end badly" you watched all the hope in his eyes crumble and you didn't think you'd ever hated yourself more than in that exact moment.

"I'm sorry Pedro," you said "I can't"

He didn't look like himself anymore, he didn't feel like it either. He felt as if all the life had left his body, and all that remained was a useless sack of skin.

But still, still, he couldn't help but realize that you hadn't said one thing, the one thing that was gonna make him give up forever.

"So you don't feel the same way?"

It wasn't tears threatening to spill from your eyes, it was liquid pain, liquid hatred for yourself.

"T-that doesn't matter"

He frowned, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn't make him sound any more pathetic than he already was.

"B-but it does y/n. it does"

You swallowed thickly "Pedro, please" you begged

"I need to know," he said with a thread of voice 

"I-I can't" you murmured, as a tear finally stained your cheek "I..."

He took that as his answer.

You didn't love him, and deep down, he'd always known.

"I think-" he cleared his throat to try and gain some composure, "I think it's best if I go," he said as he stood up.

you didn't know if you nodded, you didn't know anything anymore

He glanced back at you for a moment to see if there was any sign of you wanting to stop him, but your head was down.

both of your hearts broke with each step he took, and as he got farther and farther, this... feeling spread inside your body, this presentiment of having just made the biggest mistake of your life sneaked up your throat and robbed you of all oxygen.

And was only when his fingers grabbed the doorknob, and you grasped his arm, that you could breathe again.

"y/n-" he tried to speak, but you needed to do this before your mind could catch up, so you cut him off.

"I do," you said, as more tears fell from your eyes "I love you, Pedro"

His mind was a mess and his heart was a mess but he still managed to spit out a sentence

"Y/n, if you're saying that just because-"

"Pedro" you softly placed your hands on each side of his head, as you huffed out a silly laugh "Just kiss me"

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: satoru x f!reader, gojo and reader are in an established relationship, gojo leaves for a work trip and returns, slight banter, fluff, slight insinuations of late night activities, giggles, lovesick Satoru and teasing reader🤍

"it's been a while since you've stayed the morning," trying to ignore satoru's incredibly cold hands, you sigh, attempting to minimize the shiver that runs down your spine. cream-colored blankets adorn your shared room. a trinket from singapore, a beautiful set of earrings, lay on your bedside serving as a physical embodiment of satoru's "I missed you" after being gone for almost 6 days on a trip abroad. something to do with clan formalities that you yourself aren't quite sure of.

his kisses linger on your bare shoulder like the strawberry powdered cookies you make on special occasions. he's always had an affinity for sweet things, which was why he always adored it when you wore sweetened fragrances. hence why his nose buries itself in your hair. he groans.

"you think I would leave my girl by choice?" the slight smirk and exhale against your skin makes you giggle, scrunching your nose in the process. "I only did the elders a favor because no one else could do it." he sleepily kisses your shoulder, "was gonna suggest doing it through zoom, but those old geezers barely know how to navigate the internet." you chuckle.

"is that your way of saying you'd rather stay with me instead?" he nods, enjoying how your silken soft fingers run against the roots of his hair. satoru thinks he could stay like this forever. in fact, he doubts the afterlife could be this comforting, so he tries to engrave the feeling to his memory, like a reflex he so wants to keep alive. repeating, repeating, repeating.

"maybe." he hums, "maybe I just like you as a friend." you heartily laugh, making the corner of his lips tug upwards.

"obviously my rivaling sense of humor has enamored you." you muse, "not the strongest now, hm?"

satoru knows if anyone else were to say these words, he wouldn't have allowed it, but hearing them from you makes his heart warm and feel like a lovesick teenager despite being a 28-year-old grown man. so he muses back.

"weren't so strong when I had you spread for me last night, now hm?" now it's your turn, and the way you laugh this time feels like drops of sunlight inside satoru's being. you've infected him. and all he can do is want more, basking in the beauty of your words, touch, and laughter. he sighs.

"God, you're so beautiful."

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

i like your cock

(i like your panties part 2)

pairing: idol lee know x fem reader

genre: smut 18+ only!

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: phone sex, masturbation, slight dom/sub dynamics (y’all know i love that shit), pet names ofc (baby, angel, kitten)

an: if you haven’t yet, you need to read part one. or else this won’t make much sense? or you do you ig. this is fictional. pls don’t take this too serious.

masterlist • part 1

— private number: i like your panties

holy shit. you didn’t know what to say to that. this man is famous. are you just supposed to sext him? like..? you felt like your brain was going to catch fire if you thought about this any harder.

“um. idk what to say to that.” you text him.

—private number: *attached image*

you take one look at that picture and throw your phone across the room. it clatters on the hardwood floor, sliding until it crashes into your closet door. but throwing your phone did nothing to keep the image out of your mind. one look at it and it is forever engraved in your brain. the picture didn’t include his face, for obvious reasons, but it did include him sitting on his bed, back resting against the headboard. his cock was out, hard and on full display. it was resting against his stomach, which was sadly still covered by his shirt. you thought it was sort of sweet in a way. he is brave enough to show a random stay his cock but was still too shy to show the scar on his tummy. but you guessed that could be another identifying factor he was trying to hide. he didn’t know if you would take this picture and post them, claiming them to be him. without his face, and without the scar, you had no proof. except maybe his arms. but that wasn’t proof enough. not that you would ever dream of doing that to him.

you scrambled off the bed to retrieve your phone, needing to look at the picture again. to study it closely. upon finding your screen was still intact, thank god, you opened the picture again. his strong hand was gripping the base of his cock, the veins running up his arms matched the vein running up his length. you couldn’t believe your eyes. and much to your embarrassment, your mouth filled with saliva. you forcibly swallowed and returned to your bed. you were drooling over him and who could blame you? his cock was big. you could wrap both your hands around it, knuckle to knuckle and his head would still be sticking out of the top. speaking of his head, it was pink and leaking precum, staining his tshirt.

then you had a thought that plagued you. was he this hard because of the picture you sent him? you felt a tingle at your core, the panties he so liked were sticking to your skin. you should probably answer him. but what do you even say to that?

“i like your cock.” send.

wow what a stupid thing for you to say. but you had nothing else in your brain, no thoughts other than that damn picture. your phone starts vibrating in your hand. buzz buzz buzz.

— calling: private number

your wrist twitched with the urge to sling your phone across the room again but you refrained. you stared at it as it rang. your stomach was in knots, your brain a clouded fog, but your pussy was a mess and you decided that was enough for you to press the little green phone icon. you slowly brought the phone to your ear.

— i was starting to think you weren’t going to answer. he said, his voice husky and deep.

“i was scared.” you admitted.

he chuckled and if you hadn’t already been sitting, the sound would have brought you to your knees.

— you are adorable.

“i can’t believe this is happening right now.” you told him.

— can’t believe that i called you? he asked. — or can’t believe that i sent you a picture of my cock?

“well, both.”

he laughed again and you thought that you would never get tired of the sound.

— hey you started it. he teased. —this is your fault. you’re the one who made me all achy like this.

“i.. i told you i didn’t mean to.” you buried your face in your hands, as if he could see you. he could hear the embarrassment in your voice.

— hey, he soothed. — it’s okay jigaya. no harm done, yeah?

“yeah.” you agreed. “as long as you’re not mad.”

— of course i’m not mad. i’m in a little predicament because of you, but i’m not mad.

you could tell by the sound of his voice that he was smiling. and that made you smile too.

“well if it makes you feel any better, your picture put me in a similar predicament.”

— mmm he hummed into the phone, sending chills all through your body. — is your little pussy all wet under those pretty panties? he asked.

you gasped, the butterflies in your tummy felt like they had wings the size of tennis rackets, but you were so needy. your clit was throbbing, begging for stimulation.

“yes.” you answered him, breathy. “wanna touch it.”

— you can touch it, baby. slide those panties off and touch it for me.

you did as he asked, kicking your panties off onto the floor. you brought your hand down, letting your fingers brush over your puffy clit. you let out a small moan at the feeling of finally getting some relief.

— that was a pretty sound. he said. — i want to hear more.

his voice was so deep and raspy and sexy in your ear. you didn’t know Lee Know could sound like this. you didn’t know you could be so turned on by someone speaking. and once again you were reminded that you were talking to thee Lee Know. you rubbed circles on your clit faster and faster, chasing your high.

— baby can you do something for me? he asked.

“mmhmm.” you moaned. “any-anything.”

— anything? oh that’s tempting. he teased. —i want to hear you. put the phone on speaker, kitten. and then hold it down next to your pussy.

reluctantly pulling his voice away from your ear, you pushed the speaker button and moved the device down. he could hear the rustling of you moving the phone.

— put your fingers inside. let me hear how wet you are. he commanded.

you moved the fingers from your clit, down to your opening, slipping two inside. you slowly began to pump them in and out, the sound of your arousal filling the room.

— fuck. he breathed out. —that’s it, baby. fuck your little pussy for me.

“m-minho.”

— yes, angel? i like it when you moan my name like that. sounds so pretty.

“feels so good.” you tell him.

— i know, baby. youre making me feel good too. pumping my cock in my fist, listening to you.

the moan that escaped you at that, was loud. you had a momentary thought that you may wake your neighbors, but you couldn’t care right now. you clenched around your fingers. you orgasm building.

“fuck. minho. i’m- i’m gonna cum.” you tell him.

— you are? you’re such a good girl baby. gonna cu-cum for me? he was a stuttering mess now too and you wondered if he would cum soon as well.

“you cum too?” you asked, practically begged. “please, min. please please.”

— such a sweet girl. he said. —i’m gonna cum too, kitten. don’t- don’t worry.

you conjured up an image in your head, of minho with his head thrown back, eyes shut, mouth slightly open, fucking his fist as he breathes into the phone. and that’s all you needed to send yourself over the edge.

“oh my god.” you moaned, your orgasm crashing over you, your body convulsing. you accidentally dropped the phone onto the mattress, riding out your high.

— fuck. yes, baby.

his voice was muffled by the sheets. you scrambled quickly to pick up the phone, you wanted to hear every word.

he was panting slightly. — well, i’ve made a mess. he chuckles.

“me too.” you sigh. “my sheets are wet now.”

— you know, this is not how i pictured my night. but, i’m glad i texted. glad you sent me your number. glad you had my bubble. just.. glad.

he was rambling. you laughed softly. “i agree this is definitely not how i thought my night would go.”

— are you okay? he asks. —that was kind of intense.

“i am soo okay.” he laughs at that. “better than okay.”

— good. he lets out a sigh that almost sounded sad. —i should probably get some sleep. i have to be up early for rehearsals.

“yeah. not going to lie, i’m pretty sleepy now.”

you could hear the smile in his voice again. — you’re so cute. maybe i’ll text you again tomorrow? if that’s okay?

“sure, min. of course that’s okay.”

— okay, good night. he says softly. it was almost a whisper.

“good night.” you tell him. and then the line clicks off, your home screen returning.

before you have a chance to close your eyes, your phone dings with two notifications. one from minhos private number, and one from his bubble. his bubble reads: 질자 ❤️🌙

and the one from his private number is a picture. his shirt pulled up to reveal his toned stomach, a slight scar running across it, and drops of cum peppering his skin, pooling near his belly button.

—guess i should wash up before bed. but i’m so tired.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[thebellearchives]

Hi hello! I really love that your requests are open! I love your writing style!

I really wanted to request some angst but I just feel too sad at all those prompts this morning lol

How about Megumi & Fluff #21? :)

Thank you!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄

~ fushiguro megumi ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : Megumi’s never been one to talk a lot, so when he finally does it’s not the amount of words he says what surprises you, but rather what he says

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, confessions, making out ?

‧₊˚ a / n : this one’s a bit short im so sorry 😭 but thank you for the lovely words !! enjoy ~ (also yeah no no one has requested angst yet, i’m surprised!!)

prompt list

The first time you laid eyes on Megumi Fushiguro you fell. Hard. Ice cold blue eyes and dark black hair accompanied that silent demeanor and intimidating aura. Tall, reserved, not many words came out of those perfectly sculpted lips you were dying to have on top of yours. Your eyes reveled in capturing every single detail of his you could engrave in your pupils: that sharp jawline, angular nose and clear fair skin. And god, the things you’d give to be his for a single minute. So after months of friendship, the day you had to leave for a mission he spoke words that you never thought you would hear coming from him.

His eyes stared deep into yours like daggers, brows furrowed and his arms keeping you caged against the wall of your living room.

"I’m in love with you. I never thought I could feel like this, but you showed up and now… it's like I don't wanna go on knowing I might lose the feeling." you were staring, shocked, your heart doing somersaults inside your chest “I know this terrible timing, and I know you won’t come back after a couple of days, but I just couldn’t keep it inside of me anymore. You make me do things, say things, I can’t get you out of my head. Every time I try to look away I just end up gazing at you again, I want to hold you, I want to-”

Megumi’s words died out on his tongue when you kissed him. Your hands gripping his shirt so tightly that your knuckles turned white, insistent lips sliding over his and demanding to swallow every single one of his breaths. Hands traveled from your sides to your waist, holding you from your lower back and pressing you against his chest, open mouthed kiss allowing him to taste you just like you had always wanted to and a low growl on his vocal chords melting you in his arms.

You broke the kiss, inhaling sharply in order to catch your breath.

“… kiss you” he finished his sentence, eyes closed and lashes tickling your your skin.

“I feel the same way… I love you too” you managed to whisper despite way your chest was burning with the sweetest of feelings and the weakness of your limbs.

Megumi sighed, holding you tighter in his arms and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m genuinely so in love with you, you’re precious to me.”

There was no stopping the smile that widened your lips, your fingers burying in his raven hair. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Until suddenly a thought crossed your mind.

“Hey Gumi, I think that’s the longest thing i’ve ever heard you say.”

“Couldn’t you just keep that to yourself?” he groaned, prompting a hearty laugh to leave your mouth.

[natimiles]

Lazy morning with Shakespeare

Words: 381

Tags: scenario; morning cuddles; fluffy; no pronouns specified; established relationship.

Notes: thanks @koco-coko for being the sweetest sweetie and for 1. making me love Will now, and 2. helping me with how this stupid writer speaks.

When you wake up, you feel around the mattress to find your lover, but he has already left. With a new play about to premiere, Will had rehearsals starting early and going until late night.

Sighing, you pout to yourself. Was it too selfish to want him to stay with you? To spend a few minutes basking in love, enjoying each other’s warmth?

“Thy lips wear the most enchanting pout, my love,” you hear his voice, and you look toward the door, seeing him enter the room.

“Will!” You smile.

“Did thou miss me that greatly?” He smiles teasingly as he makes his way back to the bed to lie down with you.

“I always do,” you answer. 

He settles down beside you, not wasting time in embracing you and bringing you close to him.

“Mm, me too,” he whispers and kisses you softly.

“Wait, what about your rehearsal?” you ask, suddenly remembering the reason he wasn’t with you until seconds ago.

“T’was postponed on account of the rain,” he says, as if it’s an obvious answer. And it is; now that you pay attention, you actually listen to the soft tap of rain outside.

“Then we can enjoy a little more time here?” you half ask, half demand.

“Aye. The sun has yet to rise, we may grant ourselves a moment’s indulgence,” he chuckles. Your whole face brightens up with his reply, and he wishes to keep it engraved in his mind forever. “Come near, my love.”

One of his hands finds your hair, twirling it around his fingers in a lazy play. The other hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer and keeping you in place. You can’t hold back the little giggle that escapes you, your wish from earlier coming true and making you the happiest.

Your hand also goes to his soft hair, and in no time, you’re sleeping again. Will stays up a little longer, lovingly staring at every little detail of your face until he feels his eyelids grow heavy.

Later, when you wake up to start your day, you find yourself locked in a tight embrace, incapable of leaving Will’s warmth. And your lazy morning turns into a lazy day, the soothing sound of rain serving as a background to your relaxation.

Taglist: @bicayaya @silverbladexyz @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest @chandeliermichel @fang-and-feather @sh0jun

Masterlists

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Period Problems {Shinichiro}

A/n: I am back in my Shinichiro era y'all!!!!! Anyways, I wrote this purely because like so many women I too have painful periods (a little too painfully for my liking) so just in case someone wants some comfort, hopefully you will like this.

Pairings: Shinichiro Sano x fem!reader

Genre: comfort

Tw: periods, period pain

 Living in the Sano household was peaceful. At least for those who had become immune to the constant banter between the siblings. Other than that, there were no problems.

But no, there was a problem. A huge one at that.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Shinichiro mumbled against your neck, his hand going from your waist to your stomach. You couldn't even remember how many times you had changed positions that night because of the crumps. 

  “Don’t.” You winced in pain, quickly removing his hand. In a matter of seconds, Shinichiro stood up and reached out to light the lamp on his nightstand. Realising that his sensitive ass wouldn't let this go, you turned on your back. 

  “What’s going on?” You could practically hear how worried he was even though you couldn’t move a single inch to look at him. The pain was too much. But what were you supposed to tell him? Hey, Shin, my period is most probably here and for the rest of the day I will be sitting in a foetal position crying my eyes out because of the pain? Absolutely not!

The thing was that as far as you knew, they had no pads in the house since you had only moved in fairly recently, with the only pad being the one in your bag. And there was a huge possibility that other than grandpa and perhaps Shinichiro, the kids knew nothing about periods. 

  “Babe?”

  “I suppose there is no escape… Shin, I am on my period.”

  Silence followed your sentence and you couldn’t tell whether the trembling of your hands was because of the pain or because of the anxiety. You didn’t even want to try and think what Shinichiro might have been thinking at that moment.  

  “I don’t think we have pads but I can go to a convenience store and buy some. But we for sure have painkillers. I’ll… are you listening, angel?”

  You found the courage to lift your gaze and meet Shinichiro’s eyes. “Eh?”

  “You are pale.”

  “The pain is too much Shin.”

  “I’ll bring the painkillers.” He mumbled to himself and immediately stood up, practically running out of the room. He returned seconds later with a glass of water and the bottle with the painkillers. He handed them to you and sat back down at the edge of the bed next to you. “Should I go buy pads? Do you have some here? Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes, carry you to the bathroom?”

  “I…” You never finished my sentence. Standing up, slowly, you walked towards your bag. You took the pad out and headed to the closet before grabbing a clean underwear. If you were lucky enough, your pyjama pants would be fine. 

If it weren't for the excruciating pain, you would have sworn you fell asleep in the bathroom while sitting on the toilet -because free bleeding took some of the pain away. By the time you went back to the room Shinichiro was removing his jacket, placing it on the closet. You stayed there for a while, looking at him looking back at you until the sharp pain on your stomach returned. 

  The expression on Shinichiro’s face will forever remain engraved in your head. He was shocked and terrified at the same time. You could tell he had no idea what to do. He made a move to take your hand but quickly regretted it when he saw you walking back to the now cold bed. 

  “I bought you pads. I didn’t know which ones you used so I bought the ones my mother used to buy… are you okay?” He rushed to your side as soon as you reached the bed ready to cover you with the blanket. 

  “I am the one in pain and you are the one crying?” You tried to laugh upon seeing the tears threatening to leave his eyes but the pain was too much to even speak. 

  “I am not crying.” Shinichiro rolled his eyes, wiping out the tears with the back of his hand. He had kneeled next to the bed, still wearing the clothes he had worn to go out. “Is it always like this?” You nodded in response. It was true; your period cramps would always get the best of you. Many have been the times when you had wished you could just rip your reproductive organs out and never look back. “Tell me what you want, I’ll do anything!”

  “Shin, come back here for fuck’s sake.” You saw him nodding, almost aggressively. He quickly undressed himself and got under the covers. “Thank you for the pads.” You whispered and turned around as slowly as possible before burying your face in his bare chest. 

  “Can I?” You knew exactly what and why he was asking. You nodded and right when the cramps began to finally stop due to the painkiller, Shinichiro wrapped his hands around you.  

 You fell back asleep almost immediately though when you woke up it felt as if you hadn’t slept at all. Waking up a few seconds before Emma left the room, you heard Shin whispering something to her but you couldn’t make out the words. 

  “Good morning.” You mumbled. Thankfully your period cramps had stopped for the time being yet that didn’t keep you from snuggling closer to Shinichiro. 

  “How are you feeling?” His voice wasn’t as raspy as it usually was in the mornings and that made you a litle suspicious.   

  “A bit better. How long have you been awake?”

  “I didn’t sleep…” You pushed myself away and sat on the bed. Looking down at Shinichiro felt odd. Indeed, he didn’t look like he had slept again and yet he was just laying there as if what he had done was the most natural thing in the world. 

  “Why?”

  “You were in pain.” 

  “Don’t do that again. There was no need to stay awake.” He didn’t respond. You took a deep breath and exhaled. “Thank you though.” 

  “Don’t even worry about it.”

[bgomtori]

☆ be careful with my heart - c.sb

synopsis- the mixed signals you were giving him were worrying him, so he decided to talk it out with you.

-> inspired by be careful with my heart from rocco!

-> idol! soobin x non idol! law student! reader

-> established relationship

-> warnings! reader is slightly dry at the start but you'll understand,, sad soob :( mentions of cheating

-> note! birthday post for sooby booby^^ i love scooby snack sm😓😓 wishing he was real rn. his toe middle finger will forever be engraved in my brain.

you two were busy people, you were constantly coped up with your studies in law while soobin had his crazy schedule as an idol. you two rarely saw one another, even if you did, it will usually be quiet, cuddling in each others arms, on the bed, scrolling on your phones. you two were too exhausted from your busy lifestyle in general.

you'd normally reply soobin as per usual whenever you had breaks, and he'd do the same, returning the same happy energy even through texts. however, recently soobin realised that your messages have been drier than usual, replying him with an, "oh.." or even an, "ok". this was driving him insane, did you find someone that could satisfy your romantic dreams while he was on tour, did you find someone better than him? soobin was worried, he didn't want to pester you about it though he hinted it multiple times, but you were too dense.

"maybe just wait till the tour's over? we're going back in a few days, maybe you can ask her to explain everything once you're back." taehyun, the only one in the team who gives decent love advice, suggested. soobin messed his hair around, clearly frustrated over this, he wants an answer now, he doesn't want to walk in on you cheating on him with someone better. he nodded his head and left towards his hotel room to spend time alone, clearing his mind by playing some mobile games on his phone.

days passed, tour was finally over, soobin could finally go home and see you, and question you. his palms were sweaty when he typed in the password to the door, a sweet melody chimed as he opened the door quietly, hanging his coat on the jacket rack, dragging his heavy luggage with him.

"i'm home!" soobin called out, signalling his return, however there was no response, were you out? he noticed faint music coming from the room, why did you not reply back? were you really fall out of love with him? his eyebrows furrowed, a huge wave of emotions crashed onto him.

"yn?" he whispered, peeking his head into your shared room, he was stunned at the state of the room, loose pieces of paper laying around the floor, post it notes pasted up against the wall infront of your desk, and study guides with notes laid out on the table. you were scribbling down your notes frantically, you have a test coming up, and you have yet to memorise the slides from the lectures. you rubbed your tired eyes, turning to the presence slowly moving towards you.

"hey soob." you utter out, pure exhaustion taking over your body. soobin's expression completely changed, he practically ran towards to carry you. you groaned in his shoulder, using most of your energy to push yourself up to look soobin in the eye.

"sorry, i didn't hear you at first.. i have a test soon, i kinda didn't listen to the lectures so like i have been like staying up to study." you tried explaining yourself, your eyes red and puffy from the previous meltdowns you had. soobin carried you to your bed, laying you down, making sure that you were comfortable. he sat on the floor, resting against the wall, watching you with concern. you turned to lay on your side, facing soobin.

"how was tour?" you asked, rubbing his soft hands, intertwining them together in the process. soobin thought for a while, it was fun, but he was mostly worried about your relationship, yet he couldn't tell you since he was practically assuming. "it was super fun, i bought you some stuff, i'll show them to you tomorrow after your classes." soobin smiled, you hummed, you were happy that he was finally back, your home, your solace, your best friend. you smiled to yourself, but can't help but realise soobin was awfully quiet.

"something on your mind soob?" you squeezed soobin's big hands, that were twice the size of yours. he was hesitant to tell you, he felt guilty that he made such an assumption without even knowing what you were going through.

"i'm sorry, i thought that our relationship was going to fall apart, because when i was away, your replies to my messages were dry.. so i thought you found another one, the 3 weeks i was gone." soobin admitted, averting his gaze. you felt your heartache, it wasn't your intention to reply so coldly to your boyfriend. you cupped soobin's soft cheek, caressing them, "i had multiple tests and internships that i needed to do, i'm sorry soob. i've been so tired since you went on tour, i didn't have much energy to reply anyone.. i should have told you." you apologised, ruffling up his hair. soobin grabbed a hold on your hand, pouting slightly.

"mm, please be careful with my heart." soobin mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on your hand, you smiled at him sweetly, "of course i will."

[04mxfutbol]

Reality (Christen Press x Reader)

A/N: Pretty sure you can hear my heart break at some point in the fic (:

You and Christen became friends through soccer in middle school. A time when you start beginning to explore the world a little more, you get curious about many things.

You remember those days perfectly, completely engraved in your memory, and if you were to close your eyes you could practically see those memories and replay them, which you do to this day.

Closing your eyes to remember it all.

Seventh grade, that’s when you both met.

“Are you Y/N?” Christen asks you on the first day of practice. You’re startled as you put your cleats on, you look up and see a girl with green eyes and curly hair.

“Yeah.” You say nodding your head, confused on how she knew you.

“Cool nice to finally meet you. I think we have History together?” Christen says with a smile. “You sit behind me.”

“Yeah. We do.” You say shyly. “And yes I sit right behind you.”

“You’re really shy.” Christen says and you look down. “Come on, me and you, let’s go warm up together.”

Christen ran towards the field, leaving her group of friends behind, turning back and looking at you, waiting for you.

“You coming or not?” Christen says and you run towards her. “You’re slow.”

You stay silent and look at her. She intimidated you. Her eyes beautiful but sometimes you felt like they could see right through you.

“I’ll nickname you turtle, for being slow.” Christen says and you let out a laugh. “And she laughs.”

Neither of you didn’t know why but you both just clicked, like if you two were the last two missing pieces of a puzzle. It felt like you both knew each other forever.

A beautiful friendship that grew over many months. A bond that grew, tying you both to each other.

A year into the friendship you started to feel things you didn’t completely understand. Walking to Christen you looked at how she was talking to her friends, hands in your pockets as you approached her.

“Can we talk?” You whisper to Christen and she nods.

“What’s up?”

“I think.. I like you.” You whisper.

“You like me?” Christen asks and you nod your head. “Y/N..”

“I know it’s weird and maybe I don’t really understand what I’m feeling but you’re different.”

“Y/N I don’t feel the same way.” Christen says, you’re actually not hurt but you’re confused.

What the hell were you feeling then?

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” You say and Christen grabs your arm.

“It won’t I promise. It’s me and you forever. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Like nothing happened, you moved on. Like if you didn’t just maybe confess your love to her. Your mind was racing and you were definitely just a big confused.

Fortunately Christen was right, nothing changed in your friendship. It was still you two doing everything together. Absolutely everything.

“Wait up for me.” You shout as you run towards Christen and her neighbor. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“You live on the other side Y/N. You’ll be getting home late.” Christen says and you shrug it off.

“I wanna walk you home, you know make sure you get home safe.” You say and Christen sighs, looking at you worryingly. “Come on you know I always try to walk you home when I can of course.”

“Okay but let me carry your books, I want to look smart too you know.” Christen says snatching your Algebra books from you. “You’re not the only smart one here, I’m smart.”

“She’s not that smart.” Christen’s neighbor says and you laugh.

“Rude.” Christen says as you all begin to walk towards Christen’s street. “Come on turtle we both know you’re slow.”

“Turtle?” Christen’s neighbor asks.

“It’s my nickname for Y/N. Gave it to her when we met.” Christen says as you continue to walk. Christen turns to look at you while you’re looking around seeing the houses on the street. Her neighbor watching you both from the side, a small smirk on their face as she watched what was being unfolded.

“Huh. Okay.”

Nothing changed. It never did.

You held her hand when you were anxious, she made sure to give it three squeezes. It made you feel safe, secure. It was almost like she was home when being away from home.

“You’re okay. It’s me and you forever.” Christen says and you nod.

“Me and you forever.”

Years passed, high school came along, you both still being the best of friends. Closer than ever.

“Hey, you and me, carnival for the Fourth of July?” Christen asks as she sits next to you during lunch. “This weekend.”

You had no idea how Christen, being so popular became friends with you in seventh grade. It hit you sometimes that Christen was very popular in school, she always had been, you on the other hand well weren’t as much.

With so many friends Christen always made sure you were the most important to her. Or at least tried. She tried, but sometimes she failed but you wouldn’t tell her that because you knew that there was always someone else that would come before you even if Christen said otherwise.

“Sure yeah I just gotta ask but yeah I’ll go.” You say as you take a bite of what seemed to be some type of chicken.

“It’s tradition! We always go to the carnival on the Fourth of July together. It can’t be different this year.” Christen says and you laugh.

“I’m sure my parents will let me go just like they have been for the past couple of years.”

“Great! So how have classes been?” Christen asks.

“Pre calc has been kicking my ass. Like literally, I got hit in the ass the other day by a book because someone decided to get angry at the book where we learn our material from and I was walking by. The book went flying straight to my ass.”

“Oof. Rough. Is it that bad? Let me check.”

“Yes because I’m going to let you check my ass. No. So what about you, how are classes going?” You ask Christen as you play with your food.

“Foreign language, that’s the class that has been kicking my ass. I can barely get a C on any quizzes.”

“You need to study Chris, you’re trying to get into Stanford.” You say looking at Christen.

“So are you.”

“Yeah but it’s kind of your dream go get into Stanford.”

“Then help me study. Here are my notecards for this weeks quiz.” Christen says and your eyes widen as you set your fork down.

“Oh you mean now? Okay.”

“What up lovebirds.” You look up to see a friend of both of yours.

“For the last time we are not dating. I don’t understand why this keeps happening.” Christen says with a sigh. “We’re best friends, nothing more.”

“I’m not looking for trouble I’m just here to see if you guys are going to the carnival. Most important if my beloved Y/N would go with me.”

“We are are going, together.” Christen says. “As always. Me and Y/N.”

“And you ask why it keeps happening.”

It was true, people constantly thought you two were dating. But you were well aware Christen was straight you learned that years ago. Yet nothing changed. You two were still the best of friends.

The day came when you were both opening acceptance letters. Christen got into Stanford and while you did too, you decided to head to University of California, Berkeley. You wanted a little change.

But also wanting to get rid of the feelings that had resurfaced senior year. Meaning being away from Christen for some time.

College was different and absolutely terrifying for the first couple of weeks. Trying to find your classes and also waking up for practice. A huge adjustment. All of that without Christen, who usually helped you out was something you weren’t prepared for.

There you met Alex. You and Alex also began a beautiful friendship.

Christen found out about you and Alex, not that you two were dating because you weren’t, but just that Alex seemed to have been very important to you. And although she wasn’t going to tell you, she wasn’t very fond of whatever was happening.

Christen always had a problem with people being very touchy with you or getting close to you. It made you wonder why she would act the way she did. You just never understood her behavior sometimes.

Your friendship went from smooth to very rocky in a blink of an eye and you didn’t know what was going on but you held onto Alex, she helped you through it all.

One weekend you decided to go to a basketball game with Alex. What you didn’t know was everything was about to change.

You walked into the gymnasium where the players were warming up. You and Alex walked inside to find some of your other friends. Alex holding your hand as she learned that you were quick to get anxious. You finally found your friends sitting on the home team side of the gym.

“Ah you made it! Good to see you guys here.”

“Well we weren’t going to miss it.” Alex says.

You looked at the players running, resting your head on Alex’s shoulder. You hear a laugh and turn your head. There she was, Christen. With her boyfriend. Sitting behind you and Alex. Of all places, of all seats, sitting behind you.

“Hey don’t pay any attention to her. It’s me and you right here. Just us.” Alex says turning her head and looking at you, placing her hand on top of yours. “Me and you.”

“Me and you.” You whisper nodding your head.

“I will say she does not look happy to see me.” Alex whispers as she discreetly looks back. “Does she always look at people like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like she wants me dead.” Alex says and you laugh.

“No.”

“Then she does not look happy to see that I’m with you.”

“I’ll talk to her later.”

“I wouldn’t.”

You should’ve listened to Alex. You talked to Christen later that night and Christen didn’t like it one bit. To this day you still don’t understand why she was so upset, so upset she decided being friends wasn’t the best idea.

So while you remember the memories you had with Christen when closing your eyes, you had to open them.

You opened your eyes to reality.

- - - -

“Hey you okay?” Alex asks and you nod, stretching your arms and legs.

“Yeah. Better.” You say with a smile.

“Well come on it’s our second national team camp and it starts as soon as we get off this plane and to the hotel.” Alex say nudging you.

“You have too much energy.”

“I’m surprised you don’t, you just took a long nap. But seriously come on they’re probably waiting for us already. Come on we’re not rookies anymore we’re vets.”

“I can’t believe we even graduated college. Also I wouldn’t even consider us close to being vets, give it like four more years if we even make it.”

“I mean I can believe you did, I’m just still surprised to this day that I did.” Alex says making you laugh. “We’re getting new people this camp so I’d say we’re not new rookies.”

“Sure. It’s camp time!” You shout.

National team camp, meant seeing a face you haven’t really seeing much other than games. It meant seeing Christen. Christen got called up for the first time. You were happy for her, truly but also it was just your luck.

Walking into the hotel you were met with the rest of the team.

“I’m scared.” You whisper to Alex.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. It’s me and you Y/N. Me and you.” Alex whispers as you both walk in hand in hand.

You knew you couldn’t have her, you never could. It was something you had to accept. You just couldn’t though, it was too hard, it has just been too hard.

So you closed your eyes and breathed in then breathed out. You were safe with Alex. Safe with Alex. Home with Alex.

“Hey.”

You open your eyes again, only to see green eyes looking at you. In a blink of an eye all of the memories flashed right before your eyes. You froze.

You opened your eyes to reality.

You were looking straight at Christen for the first time in so long. You knew you couldn’t have Christen you knew you would never be able to have her love you like you loved her. You always knew that.

You closed your eyes trying to remember all the beautiful memories you had both shared together. But knowing she was right in front of you, you forced your eyes open and there it was right in front of you. Here it was now. The one thing you always wanted to ignore and never have to face, what you always wanted to avoid.

You were facing reality.

[fleetingvow]

‘ GHOST OF THE PAST .

Anthony Lockwood x Female Reader

SYNOPSIS. in which anthony recalls the tragedy of the only person who stirred his blood and thoughts. the girl who stayed young forever.

WARNINGS. heavy angst with a character’s death, specifically the reader’s. unproofread.

NOTE. anthony and the others are aged up by five years. lucy and george are vaguely mentioned in the story. this fic focuses more on anthony’s thoughts of how his romance started with the reader and his thoughts of when he lost her.

NAVIGATION. you can find more of my works about anthony lockwood and wednesday addams by clicking the link here! a fair warning, they’re all angsty!

NOTE. written in third person’s point of view. this fic is written by ©fleetingvow on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other platforms without my permission. inspiration is lovely, but plagiarism by paraphrasing is not, as well as stealing someone’s idea and claiming it as your own which is exactly what plagiarism is.

𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗬 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗗 uncomfortably in his seat. It was the very dreaded day for the celebration of love once again. He had avoided it for years that the only things he felt were either hollow screams of desire to turn back time or incessant pain of memories of who he lost.

“Anthony, it’s a gift specifically intended for you.” Lucy stood in front of his desk. The library was still quite the same as it was over the years, only the books in the shelf kept multiplying, and the papers continued to stack on the wooden material. She let out a sigh before resuming with a gulp, “We can’t turn it away. It was from your . . . old friend.”

It hurt so much, hearing the words used to address to the person who was once his very soul. The one who painted the universe for him to feast his eyes. How did Lucy even get ahold of these?

“Thank you, Luce.” His voice was strained, as if he was fighting back tears that were making his tie tighter and tighter as the room almost spun around with the stress he was obtaining just by looking at the objects set before his eyes. “But I think I might need a little solitude if I were to take a look at these.”

Knowing the vulnerability of the situation, Lucy decided to leave the library without a word, just a lump on her throat as she composed herself, trying to recover from the atmosphere in the room. The giver of those gifts was once her companion, and it pained her that it was only years later that they were able to look at her belongings without feeling the need to cry instantly.

Lockwood unwrapped the presents slowly and carefully, not wanting to be careless with the items that were the only closure he had to her. As the parchment slowly revealed the silver metal underneath, there it was, the letters that made up her name engraved as she was in his mind on the back of the mirror.

“Y/N.”

He couldn’t touch it. God, how could he? Anthony looked away, his breath shaky as he looked up at the ceiling, gathering all the composure he could muster with his eyes closed.

‘Just touch it.’ He thought to himself over and over again. His trembling fingers finally closed the gap between the object and his hand. Anthony opened his eyes and took the mirror, completely removing it from the parchment wrap. He then, carefully traced the embellisments on the back of the mirror.

Y/N loved the loops and details.

It took his every bit of energy and will to turn the mirror and see himself in it. It looked exactly like her when he would stare. He always saw himself in the reflection in her eyes, and the mirror was the vivid reminder of her.

She loved that mirror. She treasured it more than she treasured her life. It was her very own object. The thing that only she could possess while many people in the world owned the exact same thing for the sight of it will only remind him of her.

Anthony recalled. He laughed humourlessly. Of course, he recalled. It was the moment his life started. The moment where he realised he was an actual living human being. That he was a person with a purpose and freedom to love and admire. To cherish and to hold.

It was the night of the Fittes’ Annual Valentine’s Ball four years ago. The London air was cold even despite his coat already being thicker than it usually was. Lucy and George had gone to the library in search of any clue for the Fittes’ dirt. He was there to appear as smug and confident as he was to be recognised by such an elite agency.

But then,

Oh, but then,

All regrets of attending the party had done nothing but dissipated. Anthony Lockwood, for the first time, felt the core of his palms hurt in an intoxicating manner that sent electric waves through his veins that he himself couldn’t explain the phenomenon when he saw the one and only Y/N L/N amongst the crowd.

He didn’t know how or why, but God, he knew what. He was aware it was her eyes, the way they glinted under the stars when she stepped outside with him in the streets of London. They shone under the silver streaks of the moon. They said someone’s eyes were the windows of their soul, and he didn’t know what they meant.

Not until he got a glimpse and was trapped under some type of spell that when he looked, Lockwood witnessed the universe being painted around him, flushing colours in the void of his existence, and putting stars to keep him away from the dark.

So smitten he was that he forgot to check the placements of the stars. If they were aligned closely . . . or if they were aligned at all.

They weren’t.

Anthony was pulled back from his memories, turning the mirror away from his face as he put it back down to the wrappers. He couldn’t stop recalling now. Her eyes, her hair, her smile, her skin — Just — Just everything about her, he could all remember it so vividly that it was hurting every bone in his body, making every inch of his skin scream for her.

“Why now?” He whispered, putting his hand on his face to cover it frustratedly.

“Why not?” She whispered in his ear. It was the ghost of the past. It was yet another vision of her, a memory that he wished to relive. It was still four years ago, just two months after he met her. Her breath was hot on his skin as she stifled a laugh. “Be a dear, Lockwood, and help me put this on, will you please?” she asked in a mocking tone. How could he say no? It was a silver necklace. One he gifted for her.

“You’re not ashamed?”

“Of a good man?”

“Of me being in an agency below Fittes. It’s your domain, after all.”

“Anthony Lockwood, is this truly you? You’re- insecure? Your agency is the most prestigious agency in all of London, and you’re underestimating yourself? Besides, Fittes is . . . complicated. It’s bad business, and I would much rather trust the world in your hands.”

But the world in his hands were filled with her name. There was no corner that was safe from her essence. Every bits and pieces of the soil in his world contained his concern for her and her well-being.

“It looks lovely,” she mumbled, looking at the gift around her neck through the silver mirror with her name. “Thank you, Anthony.”

And again, he was pulled in another memory.

“I want to travel the world without everything we have now except for each other. We will move somewhere peaceful and quiet, and we’ll be sitting in front of a fire for comfort forever until we get sick of each other’s company. I want to go somewhere with you, anywhere but here.” She wanted him to run with her, but where? Every corner of the world was detectable to such an agency as Fittes’. She was the agency’s prodigy.

“You can’t throw all that away for me, Y/N. How could we live in hiding forever? What about George? Lucy?”

“I can’t accept his proposal. If I stay at Fittes, I’ll be stuck there forever.”

“Y/N,” it was an opportunity of a lifetime, but he couldn’t bear being the reason she’d throw away a life she’d been building since she was a child. Maybe it was wrong that she met him in the first place! Anthony was a mistake, or so he believed he was to her. She can’t just make a decision that will last a lifetime! What if she gets bored? What if she gets tired of him, and then regret it all? What if he couldn’t provide her everything she needed? She was used to a lavish life, and he lived in the same home he’s always lived in. “I can’t.”

Once he was back to reality, snapping out of his trance, Anthony noticed the envelope on the desk. He took it next and exhaled sharply, the butterflies locked in the cage of his chest and the wild heart of his swarmed around the organ as it pounded and raced into a fast rhythm that made the blood in his veins creep up to every parts of his body, making him feel more anxious than he should be.

The envelope opened, his eyes almost failing him before he could even read. But, he remembered his name, yet faltered once again when he caught sight of the handwriting he knew all too well.

“Anthony,

It must have come as a surprise for you that I still managed to pull something like this after years of my own possible demise—” No! He couldn’t read it. Anthony looked away, taking a sharp inhale to restrain the heartache he felt when he finally gathered the fact that Y/N knew about what was coming for her.

‘No, read.’ He had to be strong. It’s been years and there was no time for him to cower like a brutally tormented dog under a table. He shut his eyes, sparing himself a few more seconds before he turned his attention back to the paper.

“You’ve probably even solved the mystery by now. I knew you knew about the secrets of Fittes, and I was supposed to lure you in to keep track of you, but I couldn’t. Especially when I finally met you. You were nothing like they said. You weren’t arrogant or condescending. You were lovely, gentle, considerate, and smart. It was difficult to be anything but kind to you, Lockwood. The greatest mystery of my case is how I met someone like you.”

Lockwod shook his head. He is arrogant and condescending, but all of those traits of his would fade whenever he was around her. She calmed every nerve jilting him awake every single day. She’d always been the genius cure to the adrenaline rush that felt roo excessive he swore he could almost see the core of the Earth.

“I will wear your ring on my finger, forever until I rot and I will never take it off even if it’s the source you’ll find of me. I will forever march the world, waiting for you. I will be the fire on your hearth wherever you go, signalling that you’re always home, safe and sound as I defend you from anything who wants to destroy your peace. I will be the cold September air to accompany you during your dark cold days. I will be the sun that will peak through the clouds, watching as you smile and enjoy the warmth on your skin.”

A tear escaped his eye. One after the other, he sniffled and wuickly wiped them away to not leave a trace of his vulnerability to the only person that made him feel strong yet also weak in a way that he’d crumble down for her, and far better, kneel before her.

“As long as you walk the Earth for me, live your life for me, breathe the summer air for me. I will be there in every step of the way when you need me, and this mirror will always be a reminder of how I once saw you the night we met, how I’ll always see you — forever charming and gentle as you are, my intellectual bloody pain in the arse. Witness the moon in all its phases, feel the sun on your face, and touch the breeze that will creep up your bones. I will see to it that you will grow old with memories and the life you’re supposed to live.”

He took a shaky inhale and quickly covered his nose, resting the elbow of his hand that held the missive up for himself to read, on the desk.

“Find someone, Lockwood. Find someone who will make you happy, someone willing to spend their entire life with you with regards to your well-being, dreams, and feelings. You deserve someone who cares for you deeply. Put your arms around her waist delicately like you did mine, spin her around ever so gracefully like we once both have done. Dance in front of the hearth to your hearts’ desire. I will watch, and watch, and watch as I’ll sit and wait for you to come back to me when the time comes.

You, Anthony Lockwood, have become my reason to live, but now I must say goodbye. My farewell is dedicated to you and both Lucy and George. You have been a great family. My only treasure that I’m willing to die for.

It is not your fault though. It never was.

You have my ceaseless affections, Anthony. Always.

Yours,

Y/N L/N.”

A sound emitted from his lips as the letter ended that he felt like he needed to read more. Come on, there has to be more! This couldn’t be it! This couldn’t be the end of her moment where he felt like she was alive again! Just as she was starting to feel more real and closer, that’s when the letters had to end!

He put the letter down and ran his fingers through his hair, letting them settle on his dark locks and pulling them to create a pressure that will ease the starting headache. Lockwood couldn’t keep himself together anymore.

No matter how hard he tried.

The thoughts of her gone have always created such a tarnish on the crimsons of his heart. How could she just leave like that and never return? How could she leave him to his feelings? How could she claim he had her ceaseless affections if she left to too early?

Anthony Lockwood cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried once more.

She was gone forever, and the letters in ink on the parchment were the ghosts of the past. He still couldn’t accept it until now. No, Anthony will never find anyone like her. He’d already loved her completely and utterly that his heart has given out all the ardour it had, only for her. The ring she wore six feet under was the solid silver proof of his devotion.

But now, the words he uttered to her the night he held her in his arms could only be heard by the fading wind outside the windows of the library.

Y/N L/N was a bright ember that entered his life and warmed his heart during the cold February air at the Fittes ball. She was fierce and hot, brazen and red.

And oh, how she burned.

She was his dream.

His walking desire.

His waking moment.

His other half.

And what was once such a bright dancing little fiend was now the flame in the library hearth, keeping him steady as he lost himself to the messy art of creating rivers with his tears.

Anthony Lockwood had lost his person.

And he will never be able to bring her back again. The girl who stayed young forever as she wished for him to grow old without her.