#suddenly everybody has to admit their feelings

[maruflix]

  — ★ hell hath no fury...

☆ — like a woman scorned.

featuring: narumi gen x f!reader

synopsis: it was at this moment narumi gen knew... he fucked up.

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, hoshina’s little sister!reader, narumi is an idiot, men who beg and grovel, no beta we die like narumi’s hair in the anime

word count: 1,8k

Heav’n has no Rage,

Narumi Gen knows he fucked up.

He can see it in his subordinates’ eyes, in the way they all ignore his silent plea for them to acknowledge the levity of his earlier statement.

“Without me to watch your back, you’re practically dispensable.”

Gen thought everyone knew he was just kidding.

He rethinks that, because you — the one who never backs down from a playful banter — immediately fall silent.

“I-I’m sure the captain didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I did.”

Of course he didn’t. But in the heat of the moment, he can only blame Kikoru for opening her mouth and forcing him to say words he didn’t mean.

Because what else could he do? Apologize?

There’s a heavy tension around the cafetaria table, and it still hangs in the air even after you gathered your belongings and left with a clatter.

like Love to Hatred turn’d,

“Here.”

You barely spare him a glance, opting instead to take a fresh towel from the rack.

Gen purses his lips, gripping the towel he offered you before bringing his hand down to rest on his sides.

“So, uh, you wanna play that new game tonight?”

You’ve been avoiding him these past few weeks and it’s killing him more than he’d like to admit. To usually have you by his side and suddenly be robbed of your company…

You straighten your chin. Gen feels like he’s going to choke.

He’s still standing in the same spot even after you stand up and leave. Behind him, he can hear you laughing with the other officers.

Practice used to be fun, now it’s like he’s walking on eggshells or the chill in the air will freeze him solid if he’s not careful. The worst part? They pretend like nothing is wrong.

It’s not like anything happened after the incident — life goes on as normal in the Ariake Maritime Base. The same practice, the same missions, the same meetings. No one spoke of the incident. Not even you.

Still, he knows your relationship with him changed, and not in the way he intended. He wants to continue being the person who everybody thought is your boyfriend, but is actually your best friend, but it’s complicated because he kinda has feelings for you. But now you won’t even acknowledge his existence.

Gen knows he has to apologize.

But he doesn’t know how.

Nor Hell a Fury,

“What?! You haven’t apologized?!”

Gen doesn’t understand what the big deal is. Everyone knows that you’re always involved in some sort of bickering with him.

The two of you compete about everything. To him, being able to compete with someone fair and square is rare — it’s proof enough that the two of you are on equal footing. So why is everyone acting like one nonsensical sentence from him discredits all your achievements and prowess?

If he says he’s the Director of the Defense Force, will old man Shinomiya instantly step down from his position and give him the spot?

“… No, I don’t feel the need to.”

Eiji shakes his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gen sighs and looks to the side.

Truthfully, he regrets it already. Why else would he discuss his relationship with Hasegawa Eiji, of all freaking people? You ignore his texts, reject all his calls, pretends like he doesn’t exist, and you even exit the room when he comes in. He’s desperate, that’s why.

Gen admits that he was never good with words. He’s better at showing you how he feels through his actions. Now he can’t even do that, because you don’t let him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gen breathes out a shaky; “What should I do?”

“I have an idea,” Eiji starts, “but I don’t know if you’re brave enough to do it.”

When Gen opens his eyes, there’s a newfound determination in them.

like a Woman scorn’d.

“Sir, please, you can’t just enter like this..!”

Narumi Gen has never let a kaiju stop him, let alone a mere attendant. He storms his way past the flurry of housekeepers, gardeners, and household staff — all of them combined is not nearly enough to stop him.

He halts in front of the wooden steps leading up to the front doors, huffing and catching his breath.

The stately Hoshina Estate looks intimidating with the shiny thatched roofs reflecting the brilliant sun.

The attendants have caught up to him now, their footsteps thudding on the rocks behind him. Hushed whispers of his identity and his purpose of coming reverberates through the field, making his chaotic heart thunder loudly in his chest.

“(Y/N), please come out! I’ve come to see you!”

For a moment, no one dares to step forward.

What is the Narumi Gen doing here? It’s no secret that Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant has always been at odds with the Hoshina Family’s Hoshina Soshiro, but why has he come seeking for their young lady?

They all wait with bated breath. There is no response. What will he do next?

Gen gets down to his knees.

“(Y/N), please..!!”

The attendant from before scrambles to his side, gripping his arm in an effort to drag him out. Gen stubbornly stays rooted to his spot. He’s prepared to do this, however long it takes.

“Sir, please don’t cause any problems!”

“I just need a few seconds, please!” Gen frantically reasons, “(Y/N), I want to apologize, so please come out, damn it!”

A second attendant seizes his other arm, and just as he thought he’s going to fail, the front doors slide open.

Gen looks up to see you staring down at him. Next to you, your brother crosses his arms as his gaze trails down to him in amusement. The two Hoshina siblings, dressed in hakama, katanas resting snugly on both your hips as it gleams in the sunlight.

A shiver runs down Gen’s spine at the coldness of your glare.

The attendants immediately bow in your presence, “Our apologies for the ruckus. This person suddenly broke down the gate and forced his way in, insisting to meet with the Young Lady,” The attendant throws Gen a glare, to which he ignores, “Young Lord Soshiro, should we throw him out?”

“Should we, Lil’ Sis?” Hoshina Soshiro wraps an arm around you protectively, “What’s this clown doing here anyway. Should I get Soichiro?”

“No, no, wait! (Y/N), I made a mistake!” Gen inches his body up but immediately bows back again to retain his kneeling position, his legs now shivering from adrenaline, “I didn’t mean what I said that day! I was wrong, and I.. I’m sorry!”

He’s pretty sure the entire household can hear him screaming, but he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re indispensable to the First Division and you totally don’t need me to watch your back, I was just.. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Gen doesn’t even dare to lift his face up, “I really regret saying those words, I…”

“Look at me when you apologize.”

Your sharp reply makes his head jolt upwards.

He can see an amused smirk creeping on your lips as you finally humor his attempt of trying to get your forgiveness.

“So you stormed my family estate just for this? Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

Gen shakes his head. “I’ve waited long enough to apologize. Am I forgiven?”

You smile. “Well, now. No need to beg.”

Like a cue, the attendants finally let go of his aching arms.

You step to the side, inviting him to enter. “I was just training with my brothers. Wanna join?”

Gen practically beams as he makes his way to you. He trips on the last step, almost falling on his face, and smiles sheepishly when he finally reaches the door. “Pardon the intrusion.”

The two men watches as you walk back inside with a smile on your face.

Soshiro shakes his head. “Yer’ a mess.”

Gen laughs. “For your sister, I always am.”

They make their way inside, walking in a comfortable pace.

“Don’t let Soichiro hear that. Yer’ gonna get a beating.”

“If that means we can be brother-in-laws, sure.”

Soshiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t count on it. Yer’ not even dating.”

Gen hums. Maybe he should ask Eiji how to go about that.

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu, @yueliie (tags not working as usual so i will be tagging in the comments smh)

[swiftiesforpeeta]

jily & wolfstar having the same anniversary in atyd is something very special and silly to me

[nadvs]

home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

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[luveline]

could you pleaseee do more hotch x bombshell reader

cw suggestive —you and Hotch have a shared secret you’re hiding from the rest of the team. fem, 1k

“He’s too old for you, you know.” 

You give Elle a charmed smile. “He is not.” 

“Is too.” 

“How old do you think I am, Greenaway?” you tease. “I know I look good for my age, but I’m fully developed. He is not too old for me.” 

“Who?” Spencer asks, placing down his dinner tray with a smile. 

“Gideon,” you say. “What do you think, babe, do I have a chance with our great leader?” 

“No,” Spencer says, giggling as he spears a dehydrated looking green bean with his fork. He’s getting good at recognising jokes for what they are. 

As the younger (but, despite Elle’s insistence, not young) crowd, you have complimentary avoiding of work to do, free with your employment. You spend your lunch hour trying to stretch it into two, driving Gideon insane, and prompting Hotch to come and find you. He hasn’t appeared yet, but when you check your watch you’ve got about ten minutes left until you need to get back. 

“The line was so long,” Spencer says. “They could reduce the foot traffic in here by half if they had two people working the register.” 

“Maybe if we had our own offices we could eat our lunch alone from a brown paper bag like everybody else does, and we wouldn’t need to line up,” Elle says wryly. 

“You don’t like lining up like middle schoolers?” you ask in feigned shock. 

“I don’t,” Spencer says earnestly. 

“She’s being sarcastic,” Elle says. “You couldn’t tell?” She looks over your shoulder suddenly, but there’s a velvet voice in your ear before you can turn around.

“Can I borrow you?” 

You smile because he can’t see it. “That depends, Agent Hotchner, will I get to finish my lunch?” 

You don’t have a tray in front of you. It clearly doesn’t matter to Hotch. “I’ll take care of it.” 

You’d let him drag you around by the collar, but that’s none of his business. You turn to meet his eyes over your shoulder, disappointed that he’s already a few steps back waiting for you to stand up. 

What Elle doesn’t get, what nobody seems to see but you, is that Hotch had no need to lean in and talk so close to your ear. He could have sent you an email, paged you, and he’s here in the cafeteria waiting for you to follow him out. 

You send both Elle and Spencer a suggestive look and climb off of the bench. Hotch senses when you’re near rather than looking, starting out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He does a sharp turn you aren’t expecting to the photocopying rooms, where you refuse to go, lest you get killed by a falling stack of printer paper. One minute you’re walking together and the next he’s taken your hand and pulling you into an alcove, suddenly sliding his hand behind your back. 

“Aaron–”

He dips his face down and kisses you. It’s surprising and not, one slight nipping kiss before he looks you in the eyes. He’s asking if you’re alright to be kissed, and if it’s him, he can shove you up against a wall —you lift your head and he pulls you right back up to be kissed again. His hands slide over the tight fabric of your blazer and hold you chest to chest, his nose crushing yours, his lips unwavering. Pinpricks of heat ricochet from your mouth to your neck, a shudder he feels that has him laughing hot against your lips.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” you say, weaving your fingers into the soft crop of hair behind his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He lifts his hand, cleaning the smudge of your lipstick with his pinky finger, before stroking your cheek with his knuckle.  “What sort of note was that, this afternoon? Why do you think that’s alright to leave at my desk?” 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask, dropping your hands from his hair to poke at his waist. 

“I hoped it was you,” he admits. He looks like he might say something else, but he steals a rough kiss instead, and then another. 

“Okay,” you say, pleased to be kissed like this by him, “it was me. And you deserved it.” 

“Did I?” He takes your face into two hands. “Did I?” 

You stutter momentarily at his repeated question. “You– yeah, Hotchner, you did. It was supposed to be nice, like a promise.” 

“Are you promising?” he asks, giving your cheek a sweet, gentle stroke with his thumb. 

You kiss his nice jaw, ruffle the hair that curls over his forehead playfully, and laugh as he catches your hand. He doesn’t grab. Hotch isn’t ever aggressive with you (though he can get a little excited). 

“Decide what you want for dinner tonight, and we’ll go after work,” he says, returning your hand gently to your side. 

“Another kiss?” you ask. 

Hotch kisses you sweetly. “Come on, honey, lunch is over.” 

“Just one more?” you ask. 

He falls for it every time. You must harvest half a dozen extra kisses, incensed because it’s him, because nobody thought for a minute he’d bend to your whims. 

Hotch doesn’t bend. He just wants you like you want him. 

“One more,” he says as you pull away. “Just one.” 

It tickles your lips. You curl your arms behind his neck and try to make it one that’ll linger, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he presses your back to the cold wall. You yelp a laugh and he covers your back with big hands, mumbling a sorry that gets completely lost. 

You don’t know how he’s going to explain this to Gideon. 

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.

Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…

And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…

He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.

But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 

Astarion swallows. 

Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 

Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 

“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 

To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Yes, perfectly hideous. 

Astarion only hums in a way of reply.

That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.

“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.

The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.

Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?

He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?

Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 

Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!

Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.

All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 

“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”

Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.

Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 

And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!

Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 

She is perfect, after all. 

Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 

For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.

“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 

Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”

“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”

“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  

Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.

“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”

A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.

“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”

[spidybaby]

Silenced

Summary: Gavi noticed how suddenly you became quiet and shy around him. Thinking he did something bad, he confronted you about it.

Warnings: cursing.

Gavi and you are opposites. Everybody knows it.

You are an extrovert, you love to be around people, you love talking, you love attention.

Gavi is an introvert, he's shy, he's quiet, he prefers when people talk and when the attention is not on him.

You say that's what makes you perfect for each other. Because you motivate him to be more open and he calms you down when you need.

It's like having the best of both worlds, that's what his parents would say.

"Y/n, you are here!" Aurora runs to hug you. "I thought you were in Sevilla."

"I was, but I wasn't going to let you spend your birthday without me." You hug her tightly. "Open your gift."

She pulls you to the couch, opening the gift as soon as you hit the cushion. "No way!" She smiles. "You didn't."

"It was hard to get, I'll admit." You say. "But I know how much you wanted it." You hug her again.

"Thank you, you are the best." She kisses your cheek. "By the way, Pablo is with dad and mom. He's pouting, so I think you can fix that."

You laugh with her. Walking over to the garden where family and friends are. You walk slowly to Pablo, he was watching something on tik tok.

You sit next to him, his parents smiling at how distracted he is. "Hola, preciosa. It's so good to see you." His father says.

"Pablo, serve some water to Aurora's friend." His mom says, trying to get him to notice you.

He left the phone on the table, grabbing a cup and serving some water. He hands you the cup with his eyes still on the screen.

"Gracias, Pablo." You say, about to laugh at how cute he looks all focused.

He lifts his eyes, looking at you. "Guapa!" He smiles. The table laughed at how his eyes got shinny and his mood got better.

The rest of the evening, he didn't separate. He didn't look at his phone. He was focused on hearing you talk about your vacation trip and your last days at sevilla.

He loves hearing you talk, he finds all your stories very interesting. He loves how your eyes shine when you talk about the memories you made.

"Hola, Pablo." A elderly woman says. Touching his shoulders.

"Hola," he says in a serious tone. "This is my girlfriend, Y/n." He introduced you. You wave to her, smiling. "Y/n, this is my aunt Paloma."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

She sat in the chair in front of you two, talking with Pablo senior. You two keep talking, well you keep doing it.

"I got that recipe of those cookies you liked." You smile at him. Telling her all your plans. "I think I can make it for you, I just need some ingredients. And I saw this tik tok of a very healthy and non sugary glaze for cookies that you will love. Now that you are back on your diet, I think I can make the cookies more healthy with some organic ingredients." He smiles, knowing that you supported all his restrictions.

"I'm going to go get some juice. Do you want some?" He asks. Getting up from his seat. You nod, thanking him. "Be right back."

You check your phone, you answer some texts from your family, and answer some dms you got after posting a story with Pablo.

"You are such a sweetheart." His aunt says. Making you pay attention. "Isn't she one Pablo?"

"She is." His father smiles. "She's such a nice girl to our Gavi."

"But my oh my, sweetie." She laughs. "You like to talk, I don't know how you do it. I feel lightheaded just by hearing you ramble."

You shily smile, knowing you do talk a lot, and that can be stressful for some people. "Sorry." You say.

"Maybe that's why Gavi likes her." She says to his father. "He gets to be the quiet one like he always was."

They laugh, making you blush. You know you sometimes do talk about a lot of things in one moment, but Pablo never complained.

"Don't get me wrong, cupcake." She says, still laughing. "He totally likes it."

You smile. Pablo has no problem hearing you rambling all night if that's what you wanted to do.

"Here's your juice, Princesa." He says, taking a seat next to you again. You thank him, and he got closer to kissing your shoulder. "Now, why don't you tell me again about that museum you visited in Paris?"

You smile, turning fully to him to tell him again about your adventure at the Louvre museum.

"Fermin, can you get me a bottle of water too?"

Pablo and his friends from La Masia were at his house, they were visiting Pablo and having a little goodbye party for Marc.

You weren't there to bother, but Pablo invited you to go out with him and his sister and you were a little early, so they asked you to joined them.

"Hola, sorry about crushing the party. I was a few blocks away, and it made sense to just come by."

They all say hi back and tell you to enjoy with them the rest of the time they'll be there.

"Hi Marc, sorry to intrude your goodbye party."

"Hola, no biggie, sit and enjoy some cake." Marc smiles. "Gavi, get her some cake."

Gavi walks over to the table where the cake is placed, cutting a piece for you. You loved chocolate cake, so he gets you a big piece.

"How are you, Y/n?" Fermin asks.

"I'm good, been busy lately, college pre courses and things like that. How are you feeling after the Euros?"

"It was amazing, winning and being able to share my first tournament." He smiles. "Gavi wasn't there, but I know he will come back, and we will play together."

You love the relationship Fermin and Pablo have. They all have an amazing brotherhood. La masia really made them a family.

"What courses are you taking?" Fermin asks.

You began telling him about the pre courses you were taking to be able to graduate early.

If someone loves hearing other people talk apart from Gavi, was Fermin. He enjoys a good talk, being able to have long conversations.

So, to him, it was nice that you extended the conversation as long as you wanted.

You tell him everything, literally everything, and he asked things here and there for you to explain.

Hector is seated next to Marc, who is in front of Fermin and you. He was paying attention to the conversation.

"Hey, Guapa." Gavi says, getting your attention. "I forgot your drink." He smiles, handing you a soda can.

"Thank you, I'm thirsty." You joke with him. Making him chuckle, walking back to Ansu.

Hector is someone who's brutally honest. He had no filter when he wanted to say something. Not that it's bad, but sometimes he just says what he thinks without processing the words.

"You must be." He laughs. Making you turn to him. "After everything you told Fermin. You've been talking for a good ten minutes without stopping."

You look down to your untouched cake. Feeling shy about being called out for talking too much by two people close to Gavi.

"God, maybe that's why Pablo never talks." He jokes, not sensing that you don't understand he's joking. "Because he must be tired for you."

That makes Marc and Fermin laugh, they did understand the joke. But they don't notice how you don't laugh or smile.

"Sorry, I sometimes get carried away with conversations." You say, eating the cake and not lifting your sight to hide the fact that your eyes got glossy.

They talk with each other for a little bit. You excuse yourself to move upstairs. You don't feel like talking anymore.

You always got told to shut up by people around you when you were little. Always sensing the discomfort of people when you joined a party or a new group.

That changed when you met your friends from college, they encouraged you to talk and to be as open as you want with the stories you wanted to share.

And when Pablo and you met, at first you were careful, trying not to show how "crazy" you were by literally throwing words up.

But once you were in full trust mode, you started with the talking. Pablo then confessed that he loved how much you talked.

But lately, you were getting the comments you used to get. Feeling like you needed to be quiet and just say a minimum of ten words or less.

Thing you forced yourself to do, only ten words every time someone asked you something you made yourself answers with few words.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Pablo asks. Closing the door behind him.

"I was -" You stopped. You know he's very quick to get angry, and if you tell what happened, he was going to shout at Hector. "I just gave you space to be with your friends." You fake smile. "Go back, I'll have you tonight."

You kissed his lips and then pushed him out of the room. "I'll make them leave so we can spend some time alone."

"Don't" you point at him. "Go enjoy your friends."

But Pablo didn't mind hurrying the party to an end. Letting the others pick the mess while he watches.

"Thank you for everything, bro." Marc says, hugging him. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too." He says, smiling. "Have fun in Chelsea."

"Will send you a jersey." They laugh. "Tell Y/n goodbye for me."

"For us too. See you at training." Fermin and Hector say. Giving Gavi a high five.

He hurries upstairs carefully because he doesn't want to trip on the stairs and hurt himself. He opens the door, finding you watching something on the tv.

You smile at the sight of him, opening your arms. He smiles, throwing himself at you, settling between your legs and pressing you down the mattress.

"Dios mio, Pablo." You laugh, feeling his weight.

"Te amo." He smiles, kissing your neck and cleavage. "Let's call my parents and tell them we are not going."

You humm at the way his lips feel on your warm skin. How his hands are now on your ass, lifting you.

"Don't stop." You beg, moaning.

His hips move, creating a static feeling between your clothed body. A warm feeling that is making your roll your eyes.

Your hands pull his shirt off. His hands unbutton your pants, hand making its way down your most needed part.

He loves the way you moan his name, the way your eyes roll with every trust his hips make. He's intoxicated by you. The same way you feel intoxicated by him.

"Don't you think it is rude to leave your parents and sister alone at the restaurant?" You ask, seating on top of him.

"No, I don't." He laughs. "Arms up." He commands.

You pull your arms up, and he dresses you with his shirt. "Mmm." You exaggerate. "Smells like you." You laugh, kissing him.

He smirks, proud of himself. The look of you is worth like a work of art. Your messed-up hair and your dilated pupils, and the way you are bitting your lips while tracing his muscles with your fingertips.

"Te ves tan preciosa." He kisses your shoulders. Hugging your body and caressing your ass. Making you moan at the feeling of relaxation.

The moment is broken by his phone ringing. The ID caller showing the name of his sister. He groans, moving one of his hands to answer the phone.

"Hola." He says, putting the call on speaker. Leaving it in the night stand and focusing on hugging you again.

"Pablo, did you get my text?"

"No, what is it about?"

You kiss his cheeks. Drunk in love and still into the effects of the orgasms he gave you. Your hands comb his hair while you kiss his temple.

"We picked food and are about to get to your home. The restaurant had an emergency and closed the dining room, but they had takeout.

"Qué?" He asks, checking the text. She asked multiple times what he wanted from the restaurant, then what she was picking, she mentioned she texted you and also picked for you and that they were leaving the restaurant.

"We are like fifteen minutes away. Can you order something for dessert?"

"Si, I'll do it. Bye." He hangs up. "Preciosa, let's get dressed."

"No," you say, extending the o. "I want to stay like this with you."

"Mee too, preciosa. But my parents and sister are coming any moment now, so let's change and when they leave we can cuddle. Deal?" He asks, kissing your forehead.

"Deal." You bump your nose with his. "But I want to stay in your shirt. Please."

He kiss you. "Let's go get ready."

He helps you with your clothes. Sharing some kisses here and there. He tries to get the room to not look like the mess you two make. In case his mom or dad needed to get inside.

He goes downstairs, finding you putting the table together. "Guapa, what kind of dessert do you want?"

"Oh, maybe that pina colada cheesecake we tried the other day." You smile, feeling hungry for it.

He orders it. Just in time because his family git a few minutes later. They greet the two of you.

"I texted you guys." Aurora says.

"It was my fault, I asked Pablo to explain this NBA game, and the phone was silent."

"The Lakers one?" His father asks.

"Yes, they won." Pablo smiles. Kissing your shoulder.

They all ask Pablo how his trainings were, if he was has difficulty with how he's exercising. You stayed quiet, still feeling a little sensitive about the comment Hector did.

Aurora looks at you. She finds how weird it is for you to be quiet. She thinks that maybe something happened with her brother and that's why you are so quiet.

You received the cheesecake, telling them that you would cut it and serve it for them. Aurora took this as an opportunity to talk with you in private.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks, noticing that you are quiet even with only her.

"Just tired." You half lie.

You were tired after yours and Pablos activities, but also not in the mood to bore people or to make them dizzy with your conversation.

"You know you can talk to me."

"Thank you, I'm fine." You hug her. "I promise I'm just tired."

Pablo noticed it too, you were silent.

You weren't as smiley as you were with his family around. You were more serious. He wanted to ask.

"Are you okay?" He asks, kissing your head.

You two were laying down in his bed, his fingers combing your hair, and his other hand was rumming up and down your back.

You humm, trying to drizz to sleep. He let it go. Blaming your mood on being tired and wanting to sleep.

"I can take you to class tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Si, I'd really appreciate it." You snuggle closer.

He knows you would tell him if something was wrong, if you were hurt, or if he did something. You were honest with him.

But you really weren't honest with him. You chose to retake what you used to do back in the day when people asked you to stop talking.

You fully controlled whatever came out of your mouth. When you were with Pablo or with his family, you were into this new mode.

That made them worry. You told them that you were just stressed with homework and with projects.

Pablo on the other hand didn't fully bought that story. He thought it was something else, but he was way too afraid to ask.

He felt guilty because he thought that maybe something he did was the cause of this behavior.

Aurora told him off, believing that you were just overwhelmed with college things. Maybe because she was, and she chose to believe you.

But when he picked you to go get lunch, he saw you with your friend, you were laughing and talking with such naturality that it makes him feel worse.

"Hola!" You say to him from outside the vehicle. "Bye, I'll call you later."

"Bye, have fun, please do call me. I need you to keep telling me more about the story." She smiles. "Hi and goodbye, Pablo."

"Hi and goodbye to you." Pablo says, smiling at her. "Let's go, Guapa."

The first part of the drive was very quiet. You don't think there's any tension. You just stayed a little too quiet, but it was not like you were mad at him.

To him, it was hell. Why weren't you talking? Why weren't you telling him about your day? He wanted to hear you.

"How was college?" He asks.

"Good." You smile, bringing his hand to your mouth and kissing it.

"What story was your friend talking about?" He asks, trying to get you to talk.

"Oh, nothing." You scuff. "How was your day?"

"C'mon, you know I'm a chismoso."

"It was just about my trip to Valencia."

"Okay."

"Venga! What the fuck is that yellow for?" Pablo says, angry at the referee on tv.

You two were watching a game, he was invited to go with the team but he wanted to spend some time with you.

He was getting busy and close to his comeback date. So for him, it was about spending all the time he could with you and his family.

"That was wrong." You say.

It's been almost six weeks since the incident at his house. You were very good at controlling how much you were talking.

But him, he was losing his mind.

He tried asking questions. Nothing.

He tried asking if something was wrong, not directly, but he did asked.

He tried making Aurora ask. Nothing.

He tried everything, but talking to you.

"Hey, do you remember that one trip we took to Ibiza?"

You smile at the memory, you loved remembering things you two did together.

"Yes, we need to find some time to do that again."

"We do." He smiles. "But I was asking because I tried to remember this story about that painting we saw at the museum tour."

"The one about the princess?"

"Yes, do you remember what it was about?"

"It was about an Aztec princess who -"

You got interrupted by the commentator screaming at a goal Raphinha just scored.

"Jo'er, that was good, and we lost it."

You got quiet again, thinking that maybe he got mad about missing that.

"You were saying, preciosa?"

You shake your head, hugging his waist. "I forgot what I was saying. That was an amazing goal. I can't wait to see you back on the field."

He forgot for a moment what he was trying to do, hugging you back and combing your hair while the fame continued.

"Aurora and I are going to a bonfire tomorrow." You tell him. You were happy about it because you missed your friends and Aurora.

"That's so cool, why for?"

"Just a nice after tests reunion." You smile at him.

"Don't burn yourself, but do eat marshmallows." He jokes, making you laugh.

You two continue to watch the game, enjoying each other's company. You love times like this because Pablo has such little free time that when you do get the time to just be on the couch in each other's arms. You can't complain about anything, just enjoy.

"Hola!" Aurora shouts to all your friends. "We are here, and we got the drinks." You lift the bottle and the package of red cups. "Ready to party?"

Your friends yell in happiness. Making you two laugh. "Hey, I have someone I want to introduce you to."

You followed her inside the beach house, leaving the bottles and cups in the snacks table where everyone dumped what they brought.

"Mikayla, come here." She calls someone in the kitchen. "Y/n, this is Mikayla. She's new in the faculty, Mikayla, this is Y/n."

"The girlfriend." She says.

"Yes, she's Pablo's girlfriend."

You smile at her, weird comment to make about how you are "the girlfriend" as if Aurora haven't told her your name just a second ago.

"Nice to meet you." You fake smile. "I'm going to go help outside with the fire and everything. Can you bring the things to make the smores?" You ask Aurora, not really paying attention to the girl.

You helped your friends with the fire, with mixing the drinks. You were having a lot of fun. You were talking with one of your class friends about how this project you two are doing.

The day was going great, you had so much fun talking and spending time with all your close friends.

You were sat on a beach blanket, drinking a piña colada and texting Pablo how the evening was going.

"Can I sit?" You hear someone saying. Making you look up.

"Sure." You say to Mikayla, going back to your phone. Pablo sent you a photo of him on the physio.

She takes a seat in front of you, "Aurora told me a lot about you."

You smile, knowing Aurora always talks about you with love and care.

"When she told me about you talking a lot, I never thought you were a word dumpster." She laughs.

You got serious, smile disappearing from your face. You want to smack that horrible grind and quiet down that laugh.

"You talk what everybody here doesn't talk." She keeps going.

"What are you talking about?" Aurora joined.

"For once, I think I'm the one talking because your friend right here was doing all the talking all day."

You didn't laughed, you didn't smile. You just looked at them laughing.

"But we love her very much, mom and dad love having her over and how much she loves Pablo."

"Oh, I'm sure she's a pleasure to be around." She says in this sarcastic tone. "I'm sure you love always hearing her talk."

"We do! Even tho sometimes I hear her more than I ever hear Pablo." Aurora jokes.

You got up, getting away from them. You went inside the house, picking your things and ordering an Uber. You don't want to be around people anymore.

"Hey, are you leaving?" Aurora asks, noticing you are walking away. Following you, trying to stop you.

"Go back to your friend Mikayla." You say, stern tone. "I'm leaving."

"Y/n, why are you mad?"

"Nothing Aurora, go back to your fucking friend. I'm sure you can tell her how fucking much I talk and both of you can have a laugh out of me."

You left angry, trying not to cry in the Uber. You felt like a nine year old after your family asked you to be quiet because you were giving them a headache.

You take a long hot and hot shower. Leaving the sand and the worries away. You eat something and watch your favorite movie.

Halfway through the movie, you heard a knock on the door. You roll your eyes, you are not in the mood for visitors.

You find a frowny Pablo on the other side of the door. You know Aurora told him about you leaving, he asked you what happened over text.

"We need to talk."

You walk back to the couch, not feeling like talking with him. "Please, not today." You whine.

"What's going on?" He asks, sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't want to talk."

"But why?" Hes worried, he holds your hands, caressing them with his thumbs. "Amor, I don't understand why you don't want to talk."

You feel your eyes watering, you hate feeling that way around him. He was your safe space, he was the person you feel more comfortable with.

"Because everyone makes fun of me for it." You confess.

He hugs you, letting you cry into his arms. He doesn't understand how people can do that to you when you are a sweetheart.

"Who is doing this?"

"Everyone, Pablo." You pout. "You friends, your aunt, and even your sister."

"My sister?" He asks, confused on why Aurora would do that.

You explained everything, how the comments of his aunt, Hector, how Fermin and Marc laughed, how this new girl made fun of you, and what Aurora said.

"And I just didn't want you to feel tired of me, I don't know."

He softens his expression, noticing how you are really concerned about him growing tired of you and leaving you.

You told him how you used to get these comments when you were little. How your mom and dad always asked you to shut up and to go away.

"Guapa, mirame." He sits next to you. "I love hearing you talk. I love how you tell me about your day, how you tell me about what you are doing in college, how you planned things, how was your trips, you hangings with your friend. I love you for you."

You smile, crying again while hugging you. It was the band-aid your heart needed.

"Te amo, and you would never bored me."

"Te amo, Pablo."

"Are you ready to yell at the referee in live?" You ask him, squishing his hand while laughing.

"I hope I don't have to." He jokes. "Menudo hijo de puta el anterior." (The last one was a son of a bitch)

You were with him on the corridor, the players getting ready for the game. You have the privilege to be able to go with him to all areas of the stadium.

"Wait for me here, I just have to go to the bathroom."

You sit on a bench that was in the corridor. Texting with your friends and updating them on what was happening at the stadium.

"Hey, Y/n."

You lift your head, finding Fermin and Hector there. They have their uniform on.

"Hey guys, good luck today!"

"Gracias, we wanted to talk to you before the game."

"Si, tell me." You smile, standing to talk with them. "Are you okay?"

"He are." Hector says. "I just wanted to say sorry about that one time when I joke about you talking too much, I didn't think it was that bad but now I know it was. Lo siento."

"And I'm sorry about laughing, it was mean of us yo do that, please forgive us."

You smile at them, knowing that Pablo was behind all of this. You can't help but feel thankful with him.

"It okay, no bad feelings." You hug them both. "Now go finish getting ready, you need to go out and score so much goals."

They say goodbye, and magically, Gavi appeared from a few seconds later from the same direction they left.

"You are such a sweetheart." You laugh, hugging him and kissing his lips. "Let's go to our seats, we need to cheer extra hard for your friends."

"Let's go, Guapa." He kisses your head. "Remember, after the game, we are going to my place. You still need to tell me about that presentation you have."

✨️✨️✨️

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl hi 😝💕

[aweina]

౨ৎ. CHOCOLATE LIPSTICK ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. enemies to ( ? ). mike is mean + angry. 2-3 year age difference. sexual tension. oral fixation. semi-brat taming + 1k words.

mike was staring at you funny, it made you feel weird — annoyed, actually.

“what?” your voice was harsh, muffled by the sweet frozen yogurt coating your mouth.

he raised a brow at your tone, a little vexed from your sudden attitude. it reminded him of the bratty kid he happened to escort out of a toy store just an hour ago. he’s in a bad mood already, but there was no reason to get mad right now.

“don’t talk with your mouth full.” mike tiredly mumbled. an honest suggestion, but half of what he really wanted to say.

you rolled your eyes at his critiquing words. he always seemed to lecture you about the littlest things. how you’re not as productive during your usual security checks or even that one time he was finding the mall keys during your shared nightly protocols — making sure to make a sly comment and sprinkle in an unneeded suggestion about how untidy your bag was. exactly how an obnoxious parent would.

it was annoying. being treated like a child and especially by someone like mike. so what if he was a few years older? slightly more mature than you, much more responsible, and definitely not hot. just a little bit tho, but you’ll never admit that.

but ninety-percent of the time he pisses you off, and this is one of those times.

you swallowed down the yogurt that melted from your seething irritation, brows furrowed at the snarky comment he had to make about your dining etiquette. it’s a fucking mall food court, not a fine dining restaurant.

“do you always have to be a dick to me?” your words were laced with venom, all the suppressed anger managed to bubble out your throat.

his calloused fingers suddenly stopped twisting on the volume of the two-way radio, usual soft hazel eyes darken to a muted brown, stubbled jaw clenched. mike swallowed back the urge to say a few fighting words at your childish retort.

your tone wasn’t a big deal. well, until now.

his day has already been ruined. parents weren’t so attentive when it came to their bratty children, that meant he had to parent them himself — awkwardly standing until their tantrums fall silent or escorting dozens of children that happen to run off for some ridiculous toy. he didn’t need anymore whining from you, especially about something he’s done without the intention of malice — you were childish, immature.

“i don’t need to hear this right now.” mike was too tired to argue. a heavy sigh escaping his lips, his rough hands brushing away the tired feeling in his eyes. “you’re acting like a kid right now, you know that?”

you swore your blood pressure just went up.

“see that’s what i’m talking about! you treat me like a kid and you have to be a total asshole about it. why?”

passing families and teens curiously looked towards your table, the sudden blast of your agitated voice drawing unneeded attention. just what mike needed.

he turns away from their prying eyes, flustered that he was a victim of your grownup tantrum. mike continues the silent treatment as he listens to your incoherent babbling, colorful words like “old man” and “asshole” passed through his eardrums like a sour tune. the grip of his arm was deadly tight. yet, your pouting made his heart skip a bit. it was adorable, it always has been. but not when it’s accommodated with your high-pitched whines, your brows knitted with all these negative emotions, cheeks redden from breathless insults. the angry look in your face looked so familiar — it was the same look everybody seemed to give him.

all this over a smudge of frozen yogurt on your mouth. he would laugh if he wasn’t at his breaking point.

“fuck, i hate yo – !“ with sudden force, mike grabs you by your chin, the pouring insults latched shut with a firm grip.

the reddish hue on your face that was once from your vexation became brighter from mike’s unusual forcefulness — he has never been this angry with you before. weirdly enough, you don’t hate it.

the chocolate remnants blotched over your cheeks, dribbling from your unwiped mouth, was he pointing this out the whole time?

“watch your mouth.” you didn’t know if he meant the mess you made or your little tantrum session that set him off.

maybe both, you can’t tell anymore.

you both stare at each other for a second, the tension so thick in the air — the invasive looks felt like a blur in the background, or rather, seemingly drawn away by this peculiar exchange. hazy eyes slowly peered down at your mouth, deliciously glazed with chocolate yogurt. it was tooth aching, he could imagine the taste on his tongue. if only he was a little closer, he never had to daydream about this ungodly sight for weeks.

his thumb slowly drags over your pinkish flesh, gathering the sweet residue that coated your quivering lips. he reached over the corners of your mouth, studying every hitch of your breath and the way you nervously fiddle with the plastic spoon. someone so loud, bratty, could be silenced with a single touch.

pushing past your pursed lips and clenched teeth with ease, his sweetened touch swirled all over your taste buds — the subtle hints of sweat somehow tasted sweeter than the chocolate goodness. mike watches you closely, his slacks suddenly feeling tight. you’re letting him do this to you, without a protest or your usual dirty look.

for another second, his fleeting touch brushed against your wet muscle, mesmerized by its softness. the darkness that loomed in his irises vaporized into a soft green, lured by the sight of an obedient mouth. he finally draws away, a string of saliva connecting his cleaned off thumb and your glossy lips. the rigid grip on your chin loosens as mike huffs in mild irritation, mostly out of astonishment from this predicament.

mike stands from his seat, hiding his hard-on with his bunched up security jacket — hand still soaked from your dribbling saliva. awkwardly, he picks up the trash splayed over the table, making sure his car keys were stuffed deep in his pocket.

“i’ll see you tomorrow.” he steadily spoke, seemingly unbothered.

you nodded, mouth still slightly agape.

mike walks off, leaving you with your own muddled thoughts.

out of complete horror, you hover your nimble fingers over your mouth — the taste of his skin still permeates on your tongue. even with how intimate that whole situation was, mike made sure to clean the remnants of frozen yogurt off your face.

the gall to leave you utterly confused, edged by this new side of your usual grumpy coworker. there was a line between guilty attraction and burning hatred towards mike, you were stuck in the middle of it. but your racing mind seemed to linger towards the shadows casting his tired eyes, the focused look on your compiling mouth, the demand in his voice animating your body like a toy. fuck, yeah okay, he was hot.

the ache between your legs seeped arousal through your pants, you thanked your employers that your uniform was black. gosh, it’s been so long since anybody has touched you like that.

you nearly break your skull when your head falls defeatedly on the table — a heavy groan vibrating in your chest.

you don’t know if you could come to work tomorrow.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[weird-is-life]

Hello i have a request for spencer reid x reader. If you have noticed in the show, esp early seasons he doesnt really get jokes a lot and takes stuff literally. Can you write a reader who is the same way, and the team is partaking in a funny joke and they are the only two who dont get it??? They r so perfect for each other

Hiii, lovely🥰ty for the cute request, hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, clueless Spencer and reader, mentions of drinking and tea, (0.5k)

The latest case is finally over, and the whole team is more than happy about it. There are drink being passed around the jet in between, well almost everyone, except from you and Spencer.

You two are comfortably sitting next to each other on the jet's couch with the cups of tea in your hands. You didn't feel like drinking, and neither did Spencer, so instead he made you both some tea.

You are still very much present in the merry conversation happening between the team though, just without the alcohol.

And suddenly everybody is laughing, something to do with Derek and a bar, but you don't get it. You force a fake laugh out because you don't want to ruin the fun.

You find that Spencer is laughing as well, so even he must get the joke. It's only you that doesn't understand. You think of how embarrassing that is for you. Never getting the jokes.

The laughter dies down, and the conversation continues going as smoothly as it has been before.

Abruptly, you get an idea. Maybe Spencer could explain the joke to you?

It takes you a few minutes to find the courage to lean closer to Spencer, and ask about the joke.

"Spencer? C-Could I ask you something?" You whisper as inconspicuously as you can. Not wanting to get anybody else's attention.

Spencer looks at you with a soft smile, and he says, "sure."

You clear your throat, feeling a bit sheepish about it," did you....could you explain the joke to me?"

Spencer frowns in confusion, " what do you mean?"

You sigh in defeat," I mean the joke that everybody was laughing at. I didn't get it." Your cheeks go a bit red at your confession.

"You didn't get it?" Spencer asks curiously. Not mean or cruel about it, just curious.

You shake your head. Too embarrassed to say it out loud.

"I didn't either," Spencer grins at you. Eyes shining with sparks of amusement.

"You didn't?" You baffle. You saw him laughing.

"Nope. I often don't. I usually just pretend that I know what they are talking about, and laugh at it," Spencer shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. The sides of your mouth go up.

"Did you pretend now too?" You question with a quiet giggle. You can't believe that he's done the same thing as you.

"Yeah. Did you pretend too? I saw you laughing," he raises his eyebrows. His own smile appearing on his pretty face.

"Yeah, didn't want to be the only one not laughing," you admit.

"Good," he laughs, bumping his shoulder to yours, "now we can pretend to understand together."

You can't contain the laugh as he says it. The both of you chuckling on your own inside joke.

"Oi," Derek draws your attention, your laughing gone, but the smiles remaining on your faces, " what are you two lovebirds laughing at?"

Your cheeks go impossibly more rosy, "nothing." It's an easy lie, you don't feel like telling them the truth.

And one look at Spencer you know he doesn't either, his own cheeks a bit more pink than they were before.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Michael Ralph, the Good Omens Production Designer, interview for Movieweb :), summer 2023

Question: What is your reaction to your fan's positivity?

Michael Ralph: It's unbelievable. To see your work reflected in the eyes of people that love it is incredibly complimentary and it feels on, you know, you're honoured by having that response .It's rare that you get to experience it. You know, I think that we were involved recently in a fans' view of the set where all the fans who'd been involved in a competition were able to walk around the set. It's extraordinary. And I got hugs and people in tears. And it is an overwhelming experience to stand in that street and be in that bookshop when you didn't think, even though you knew, but you didn't quite know it really existed as a place that you could walk around in is quite phenomenal.

Question: Do you see locations as extensions of characters?

Michael Ralph: My feeling is that we would all, if possible, choose to live where we believe and within an environment that we believe suits us, doesn't suit anyone else. It's a fingerprint thing. It's like, where are you most comfortable? Where are you most comfortable to read or to write or to watch a programme or where do you feel the most secure?That bookshop is an anchor point visually for the show and always has been an anchor point since day one. And it is where you feel most secure. It's where the door closed, you feel safe within it. And what emanates or resonates with that bookshop, not only from the character and the position or who Aziraphale is, is that everybody that walks into that bookshop feels the same thing. Everyone that walks in that bookshop, I've said it before, just want to live upstairs and drink red wine and read books all day and they feel comfortable and they feel nostalgic and it creates a sense of security and protection. And I think that if you can create that sort of sentimentality in something that you're walking around in, it must transcend the lens. And it obviously does because people feel it all the time and they want to go there and sit around in the corner and feel comfortable. So I think that from character point of view, I started really emotionally from Aziraphale. And Neil, whenever I've thought of a great idea that I tell Neil about and he tells me how amazing it might be or how fantastic or inspired it was, I suddenly start to realise it's probably in the book or it's probably in the script between the lines. What stimulates my apophenia, what stimulates my vision and my emotional motivation to design anything is what I can see in the page. So if he has written something so universally empathetic to an audience, then I'm seeing the same thing you are, in my variation, but it really is the same warp or the same sentimentality as I said, or any of those things. So if I can find how to get my fingernails under the edge of that, how I can actually depict it, then I know that it's going to work. And that's obviously... and you can believe in it then, and you can say it with all honesty, rather than impersonate your love for something or say something because your ego tells you you should, or produce something that's a duplicate of something you saw once in Italy. This is something you've got to feel that's specific to the project and specific to the written word, you know.

Question: Do you have the freedom to do what you want?

Michael Ralph: I must admit, reading the book the first time, it was difficult to get my head around how it was going to be depicted. You've got to be very careful that you don't impersonate what you've seen before, you don't copy and then call it original when it's not, because that's sort of like a cop out. You really, honestly have to live with it 24 hours a day, even while you're asleep, and search and search and search and search to find what it is that gets your fingernails under it, to find out what it is you really believe in. And it sounds so ethereal, but it's absolutely true. If you can get that, if you can openly find that, and you've got to feel that, if you can get that, then you're absolutely on something you can invest in and then something you can produce. Because then it's not something that's duplicated. All the furniture, literally all the furniture, all of the dressing on the walls, all of the bookshelves are all built but Bronwyn, a set decorator, will buy me a lot of brown furniture that she finds as really interesting furniture. Furniture that's got spindles and handcarved pieces and reliefs in it. And she gets me stuff that she believes goes with the character of the place. And then I'll break it open. This is what construction. I love working with construction with, because I'll break it open, cut it down, reattach it, and I'll remake wholewalls and bookshelves, like in the magic shop that none of it existed until we put together loads of stuff the set decorator found, that Bronwyn found. And then all that stuff ends up having a profile of the period, or echoes to you, little visual trip hazards of the period, of size and weight. But it isn't really anything you've ever seen before. It's not from a higher shop. It's not from a piece of furniture you bought, just plunk there. Because the camera sees things differently. And we have to lift all that up and make it bigger and larger in scale to punctuate the vision. So all of that is... there's all sorts of theories, I could go on forever, you know. I was saying to Bronwyn today that I think I've been working all my life on trying to raise my intellect, to be able to incorporate a vocabulary to explain what it is I do creatively. I'm not there yet.

Question: Is there something you'd like to explore in the future?

Michael Ralph: And it's funny you should say that, because that process, from what I've explained to you, doesn't originate with me. So you need to get that book or that source material, and someone has to say, you're the guide for this, I'd love to see what you see. And then it's like this massive submerge, you submerge into it. And then it's a journey, a journey that you embrace and it reveals things that I could guess maybe 15-20 things I'd like to do on Season Three, but it's not scripted. So what is that? You know, I've got imaginary things that I will adopt because I know that they've got weight or purpose that will work for Season Three. But I need to see what Neil shows me, you know, what Neil teaches and tells me, and then once I've seen that, I can run with it. He's such a wonderful appreciator of what you achieve. He's never questioned anything I've done, ever. And it's been hundreds of things, hundreds of sets and ideas. And no matter how crazy what it is, I might end up drawing the craziest things first. But he still loves them, you know. And it feels like it probably was there already between the lines. And all I've done is pick up on it. You got to really get into it to mime what it is that affects you and what moves you. What it is you love about something. You can watch a show and read a book and not love it. You don't know why you didn't love it, it's unequatable, but you just didn't connect. But what we're trying to do with everything we do cinematically is to connect, is to somehow get through the equation. So you feel it. And I got a feeling that's why Good Omens works so well. Because of the amount of love and emotion that people put into it and amount of faith people have in what they're doing, because it's only done out of joy and it's only done for the goodness of that wonderful story that is developed and matured, within it, between the characters. And because of that, you can do nothing but sprinkle magic on it all the time.

[imaginesandsmut]

So Good

Paring: Ethan Landry x fem reader

Summary: You and Ethan had hated each other since you too met, but when you're at a party dancing with a frat boy, Ethan takes it upon himself to show who you really belong to.

Warnings: Alcohol, smutty smut smut, and some fluff at the end.

Writers note: This was requested by @kianachampion and was definitely a great idea. Don't be shy to send fic ideas my way, ya'll. But anyways, enjoy xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You laughed whilst trying to steady your hand, the mascara wand shaking from your movements. The music in Tara’s bedroom was louder than any concert you have ever been to, pounding in your ears and causing you to go slightly deaf.

“Okay but I’m serious,” Tara yelled over the music, “if you don’t wear this skirt, I will kill you. You’ll look so good.”

You turned in your seat at Tara’s desk, turning to see her hold up the shortest skirt of your life. It was tiny, denim, pleated and with a chain dangling from one loop to another. It was cute but you didn’t know if you could pull it off, your ass would definitely be seen if you so much as lifted your arms.

“Please.” Tara tried her puppy dog eyes, pouting her lip in an effort to win you over. “I can’t be the only one wearing something slutty.”

“So you admit it’s too short!” You laugh at her attempt at playing cute.

“It is!” Tara walked over to her bottle of vodka and took a swig, swaying to the music. “But no one will care, it’s a frat party for god sake.”

You both were getting ready for the next rager at whatever Kappa Kappa Fi house it was at, most likely filled with the same people but during this exam season, everyone is looking to blow off some steam. 

You could hear Mindy and Anika singing to the song through the walls, they were both in the living room preparing drinks for everybody. Chad and Ethan were somewhere in the apartment, probably hyping each other up by calling each other snacks and grunting.

You turned back to the mirror and inspected your makeup, satisfied with the results you got up and took the mini skirt from Tara’s hand. She clapped her hands dramatically with glee as you took off your sweatpants and replaced them with the skirt, suddenly feeling very cold. 

“You look hot.” She pushed you towards the mirror to inspect yourself. The skirt looked nice, your legs looked nice too. You paired it with a graphic baby tee and your beat up tennis shoes.

“You look good too.” You turned to Tara and took the bottle from her, taking a swig as she smiled and twirled her short dress for you. 

You enjoyed these moments with your best friend, just smiling and happy. You both met in your first class of University, you were nervous because you hadn’t made any friends in the city yet but the spot next to Tara was empty and you were feeling bold. She smiled at you when you sat down, you smiled back and it was the beginning of your friendship. 

“Can you two hurry up now!” Mindy yelled from the kitchen, her voice much louder than the music.

You and Tara giggled at each other, both already buzzed from the few swigs of alcohol. You both left her room and joined the group in the living room, they were all drinking and laughing together. It was moments like this that made you really love your friends.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Except for one.

Ethan was taking in your appearance, a red solo cup filled with whatever alcoholic slushie Anika has made for everyone. His outburst caused everyone to look at you, all of them looking you up and down.

“Damn, you’re hot.” Mindy 

“Thank you, Mindy.” You send a scowl at Ethan, the boy sipping his drink with a crease between his eyebrows.

Ever since you became friends with Tara, you became friends with the rest of her friends. The only person you can’t get along with at all is Ethan, he annoys you to knew end and he lets you know that the feeling is mutual. Constantly bickering with each other and fighting over anything possible. Anything that he could make a snide remark about, he does.

“You’re gonna get cold.” Ethan’s voice was a mumble, like he was annoyed with your own choice of clothing. 

“I’ll be fine.” You cross the room and grab a drink from Anika, downing it in one go. With just a few words, he managed to get on your nerves and fill you with a need to punch him in the face.

“I’m just saying that it’s just a frat party, not a fashion show.” Ethan continued his attack on you.

“Oh my god, It’s not like you have to wear it.” You turned to look at him, crossing your arms defensively. 

“If you bend over everyone is gonna see your ass.”

"So what?" You ask, annoyed and confused as to why he would care.

"God why do you need to be so uptight about everything?" He takes a swig of his drink whilst still taking in your appearance. "You need to loosen up."

"I would if you weren't around."

“Okay!” Tara claps her hands loudly, shutting you both up. “Let’s go.”

The whole walk towards the frat party was filled with you and Tara laughing over something whilst Mindy rambles about the newest Stab movie. But all you could focus on was Ethan walking behind you, way too close behind you. He kept bumping into you from behind and not even apologising for it, just shrugging when you told him off. It wasn't long till you reached the party, pushing your way through the crowd and towards the drinks table, shaking Ethan off your tail.

"Go find some boring person to talk about movies with." You shout at him over the music as he tried following you through the crowd. It was annoying how much he fought with you yet still followed you around, an endless torture cycle.

"I'm just waiting for you to fall and show your ass to the entire party." He shouted back, his frame towering over you.

"God I don't care, just leave."

"I'm not leaving." Ethan looked around the party, obviously trying to find a place for you both to go so you could fight even more. "Let's go to the kitchen over there."

Before he could turn back to face you, you slipped away from his sight and hid behind a group of people. You watched Ethan turn back to where you were supposed to be, the wildy look around to find you. He gave up after a bit and huffed in annoyance, walking over to the kitchen and talking to Chad.

You walked over to another area of the house, hoping to be free of the ever irritating Ethan Landry. The pool table came into your sights and was loaded with bottles, ice and cans. You grabbed the first closed cap you could find and cracked it open, taking a swig and almost gagging at the taste.

“They’re not very good.” A voice behind you spoke, it was slurred but confident. You turned and took in the most stereotypical looking frat boy in your life, complete with the unbuttoned shirt and backwards cap. 

Normally, you would wave boys like him off. But you were tipsy and looking to have some fun tonight, so you played into his trap.

“Then what do you recommend?” You put on your most charming smile for him, completed with a slight tip of your head.

“I would try this.” He beamed at you, reaching over and grabbing a bottle from the table. “It tastes like Fanta.”

You take the drink from him and take a sip, nodding your head at the taste. He take your approval with a grin, nodding his own head. 

“I’m Luke.”

“I’m Y/N.” 

“Do you wanna dance, Y/N?” Luke seemed nice and charming, and he wants to dance with you which gives you a big ego boost. “You look so good, I just have to ask.”

You take his hand and let him guide you to the dancefloor in the centre of the house, bodies upon bodies push up against each other in momentum to the song. Luke pulls you close to him, his hands on your hips and moving them with his own. You put your arms around his neck and pull him close, your faces close enough to feel his breath on your cheek.

You look around the room whilst dancing to see what everyone else is doing; Tara was talking to a girl from your classes, Chad was playing beer pong, and Mindy and Anika were already making out on the couch. You looked around subconsciously for Ethan, trying to find him through the crowd.

It was then that you caught his eyes, an ever present scowl across his features. Ethan was sitting on the nearest couch, someone was talking to him but all he could do was focus on you and how close you were to this random frat guy. The drink in his hand long forgotten, the red solo cup gradually getting squeezed harder and harder with every sway of your hips against the guy. 

You don’t know what came over you, maybe it was the drinks in your system or the dark look Ethan was giving you, but you decided to put on a show. You turned around in Luke’s arms and pressed your back against his chest, moving your ass against his crotch. The infamous short skirt began riding up with every movement you were making, letting you get bolder and bolder. 

You threw your head back and rested it on Luke’s shoulder, looking to the side to make eye contact with Ethan. You could see him shaking his head at you, obviously annoyed about something like he always is. He was leaning back on the couch, arms crossed against his chest, manspreading like owns the place.

Luke was gripping you harder, his breathing heavy as he groaned at your movement in your ear. You smiled to yourself for doing this to him, but you felt like it was all wrong, like he wasn't the person you wanted him to be.

“Can’t believe I haven’t seen you around before.” Luke’s voice was low, distracted by everything you’ve been doing. 

You don’t reply, you felt mechanic against Luke, like his very touch made you feel wrong in every way. Your eyes kept drifting to Ethan, trying to peek at his reaction. The boy in question was now resting his elbows on his knees, bent over and giving every bit of his attention to what you were doing.

His jaw was tense, like he was going to crack a tooth from the pressure. His eyes were dark and focused, like nothing else in the world cared to him but watching you. The person next to him kept rambling on about whatever conversation they were previously on, but Ethan didn’t care. 

Ethan didn’t know what was coming over him, it was like he was taken over by a force of anger and jealousy. Everytime he was with the group, you annoyed him to no end and he made sure you knew it. He never once thought of you in any way but the annoying girl in the group. But now, seeing you dance with another guy, all he wanted was to grab you and pull you onto the couch with him. 

Luke’s lips attached themselves to your neck since you already had it stretched out trying to get a look at Ethan. His breath was hot and his lips felt weird on your skin, like he was trying too hard to make it sensual but it felt rushed and timid. You pretended to lean into it, like it was what you wanted.

That’s what set off Ethan.

He pushed himself off from the couch and made his way through the crowd, not even looking at the people he moved out of his way. You could feel him getting closer, like there was a pull he had on you and you could tell when he was away or too close.

A hand reached out and pulled you from Luke, earning a gasp from you and an annoyed yell from him. Ethan was gripping onto your arm like you were going to disappear, his eyes stared at you with disgust. 

“Hey, what the fuck, man?” Luke threw his arms up, confused as to why someone would interrupt him.

“Don’t touch her.” Ethan stopped looking at you and turned his attention on the frat boy, yet his grip on your arm never ceased. 

“Why? You her boyfriend or something?” Luke laughed, pushing Ethan’s chest.

“No, he’s not.” You tried to wiggle your arm out of Ethan’s hold but with every movement you made, his hold on you tightened. You’re sure that you’re gonna get bruises soon if he doesn’t let go. 

Ethan sent daggers your way at your outburst, like it was anything far from the truth and he was surprised by it. Luke laughed at your reply and stepped closer to Ethan, challenging him. 

“So what are you? Some sad friend that couldn't get any from her?” Luke’s voice was mean and his demeanour was scary, different from the charming way he was talking to you. It reminded you why you steer clear of guys like him at parties, and now Ethan’s hold was feeling a little more comforting. 

Ethan didn’t say anything to Luke, instead he just turned to look at you. You looked back at him but you couldn’t describe the look in his eyes, like he had someone to tell you but couldn’t voice it.

“Let’s go.” His voice was small and quiet, but demanding.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Luke was looking at you expectantly, like he was waiting for you to shrug off Ethan.

You looked back at Ethan, he wasn't waiting for you to say anything, probably preparing to drag you away no matter what you said. You could feel some eyes on the three of you, watching to see what would happen. You turned to Luke and apologised before pushing on Ethan’s chest and taking him into the nearest private room.

You shut the door behind both of you, effectively shutting out the party and the music. You looked around the room, a small study with books lining the walls. It would be nice if you weren’t pissed off.

You looked at Ethan who could only look down at his feet, a wave of nervousness overtaking the confident facade he just had on.

“What is wrong with you tonight?” You tried to keep your voice down but the anger was bubbling over the surface.

Ethan didn’t even look at you, just shrugging his shoulders in response.

“You have been acting like a total dick all night, more than usual.” You continue, running your hands through your hair. “And now you’re being a dick to others, seriously? Why do you have to ruin everything good in my life?”

Still, no answer.

“Are you going to say something?”

It was a quick decision for Ethan, one that he's been wanting to do for ages but had only seemed to have gotten the courage to do it now. He made the few steps towards you, closing the gap and reaching up to cup your face, all before crashing his lips onto yours.

It was sudden, him pressing his lips onto yours. You wanted to fight, to push him away and tell him off. You wanted to tell him off for the whole night and all of his antics, but you stayed still and let him kiss you. It was hungry, feverish, like he was expecting you to push him away and he knew it was going to be the last time.

It wasn’t until you slipped your hands into his hair and pulled him closer that he finally relaxed, moaning into your mouth and pushing his body closer to yours. He backed you up against the door, pressing his hips to yours to cage you in.

You hated yourself for what you were doing, knowing that you might hate yourself in the morning. But right now, kissing Ethan, it was all you wanted.

“Couldn’t handle seeing you with that other guy.” He whispered against your lips, kissing you between almost every word.

You didn’t say anything, just wanting to live in this moment forever because you didn’t know how long it’ll last, he might start fighting with you as soon as you back away. You tugged on his curls, earning a groan from him and a thrust of his hips against yours. It was getting hotter and heavier every moment that your mouths were on each other, losing all thoughts of how much you were supposed to hate him. 

“The only way I thought you’d look at me was if I was mean to you.” Ethan’s lips latched themselves onto your neck, sucking and biting every bit of skin he could get to. “But seeing you with him, I just wanted him to know that you’re mine.”

“Ethan.” It was like you were dumb, you couldn’t think of anything else but his mouth on your neck and his hands on your hips, gripping them as if you were going to run away.

“If you knew how much I wanted you, you would have ran away.” He was rambling, speaking to you as if you weren’t listening. 

“I wanted you too.” Maybe it was the drinks or the dancing, but your tongue felt loose and you split every thought you had to him. “I did all of that for you.”

He couldn’t say anything else, too turned on by your words and your hands tugging on his hair. His hands moved down to your thighs, gripping the exposed skin and chuckling at how you were trying to stifle your moans. His hands trail upwards underneath the skirt and to your underwear, caressing your hips with his thumbs.

“This fucking skirt.” His mouth moved to hover just above yours, your neediness made it almost impossible to focus on his words. “I wanted to rip it off you the moment I saw it, tried blocking you from everyone on the street during the walk here.”

“Is that why you hate it?” You chuckled, caressing his cheeks and taking in how pretty he really was for the first time. “Because you love it so much?”

“I wanted to take you back into Tara’s room and show you a reason why you shouldn’t wear it.” His eyes were laser focused on you, you were almost scared to look away. “Now I guess I’ll have to show you here.”

“What do you mean?”

Before any more words could leave your mouth, Ethan’s thigh wedged its way between your legs, the rough material of his jeans pressing against the flimsy fabric of your thin underwear. Your moan caught you by surprise, Ethan grinned wildly at it and was determined to hear more, 

“Want you to get off on my leg.” His voice was low and hesitant, like he was waiting to see how you would react to him being demanding with you when you would normally tell him off. But all you could do was nod and start grinding on his thigh, the jean material rubbing against your clit and causing you to go a little hazy.

Ethan was much taller than you so his thigh between your legs caused you to stand practically on your tippy toes, the only anchor you had was his shoulders. You nails dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, using them to help you drag your pussy over his thigh. The sensation was making you desperate, you could feel him flexing his thigh every time you moved your hips forward, making then feeling on your clit so much better. 

“If only the group could see how needy you are for me.” Ethan’s hands were on your jaw, holding your head up so he could see your face properly, grinning to himself at how your face scrunches up every time your clit feels a particularly good part of his thigh. “They would be so surprised to know that all that hate you had for me was just masking your true feelings.”

“What feelings are those?” Your voice was breathy and almost silent, you had never felt like this before.

“The feeling of wanting to fuck me, wanting me to fuck you.” Ethan’s lips ghosted your cheeks, kissing them after every moan you tried to silence. “If only you told me earlier, baby, that you wanted me. I would have helped you out, I will do anything for you.”

You don’t know why but those words spurred you on, causing you to pick up your pace and grind yourself on his thigh faster. Ethan could see you needed help and placed his hands on your hips, ready to help you. But before he did anything, he stopped you, much to your dismay as you let him know with a needy whine.

“Tell me you want me.” His voice was no longer cute and joking, he was serious. 

“Ethan.” You whined and tried to move your hips again, but his hold on you was too strong and bruising. 

“Tell me that you’re mine.”

You looked at him, his eyes dark and tough. As much as you two bickered and fought, he had never looked at you like this, it scared you a little. But the way he was holding you, the words he was speaking, it was all so hypnotic that all you could do was follow his instructions.

“I’m yours, Ethan.” It scared you more that you knew you meant it, you had known it for a long time but this was the first time admitting it. “I have always been. Now please, make me feel good.”

The last part was what got Ethan, the desperation in your voice and the way your hands clung to his hair like he was all you needed in the world, it felt him with a sense of pride. His hands started moving your hips for you, helping you drag yourself over his thigh. It was all so delicious, the feeling of your own lace underwear and his rough denim on your sensitive clit, the groans he was letting go in your ear, his lips on your shoulder blade.

“You look so good, baby.” 

You smiled at the compliment, biting your lip as your eyes closed. The sight made Ethan almost cum there, how happy and hot you looked riding his thigh. He could look at your face all day.

Then, Ethan picked up his pace, dragging your hips over him with a new found speed, added to the sensation of him flexing and bouncing his knee to stimulate your pussy even more. One of his hands left your hip and went under your top and bra, groping your boob and tugging your nipple. 

It was all too much; the feeling of him on your clit, his cold fingers pinching your nipples and his mouth sucking hickies on your neck. You swore that if you had any thoughts apart from you and him, you would be embarrassed that the party was hearing how loud your moans were.

Ethan could tell you were getting closer from the tugging on his hair to the stuttered motion of your hips, you were starting to lose all control. Ethan crashed his lips back onto yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a messy show of dominance, wanting you to know who was making you feel this good.

“Come on, baby.” His breath was hot against your lips, and you couldn’t wait till he kissed you again. “I know you’re close.”

“Mhmm.” All you could to was whine, the feeling within you getting tighter and tighter the long you grinded on him. It wasn’t until Ethan took his hand from your hip and dipped it into your underwear, rubbing your clit in lazy circles and you feverishly thrusted against him

“Good girl.” He almost laughed at how whiney you were, so different to how mean you are to him in front of your friends. “Let go for me, let everyone know who’s making you feel good, yeah?”

The band within you snapped and you came with a cry on Ethan’s thigh and fingers, their own assault on you never ceasing and he continued to rub your clit and help you move your hips on him, allowing your orgasm to drag out. 

He took in your face, so blissed out in ecstasy, he kissed you hard. You smiled into the kiss, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer, not wanting the moment to end. You were scared about what was going to happen when you got off his thigh and left the room; would you two go back to fighting as usual or did this spark some change within him.

“Come back to my dorm?” Ethan’s tone was now nervous and unsure, and yet his demeanour remind confident. “I wanna see you in my bed, naked. Be away from the crowd so you can chant my name.”

Ethan watched your face, waiting for you to say something, anything. He was nervous too that you were going to push him away and act like this was a one time thing, he wanted it to be more, for both of you to be more. Fighting with you was the only way he was able to get your full attention, and so he did it because he had no other choice. But now, knowing that you like him back, he wanted you to be his. 

“Okay.” You looked up at him and touched his lip with your thumb, a soft gesture but it caused him to melt. 

“Yeah?’ His smile was contagious, causing you to grin yourself. 

“Yeah.”

[mattslolita]

Bambi telling her friends about Chris confused where they stand

“I mean we call eachother nicknames, he isn’t afraid to kiss me in public, don’t get my started on the sex! But he just doesn’t want to call me his… I don’t know what to do!” Bambi says ranting

“sounds like he’s refusing the accept the fact he loves u but don’t worry you two will figure it out eventually I know you two will” ur best friend says reassuring you

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

your lips were stuck in a pout as you examined chris as he conversed with his brother and friends whilst they sat on the couch — he seemed so nonchalant as he sat there, and you sighed at the way he nodded his head every once in a while, as words spilled from his lips from time to time.

"hey you, what's on ya mind?" your friend niyah asks you, bumping your shoulder slightly as she looks at you with a concerned expression.

"i'm just. . .confused!" you sigh, turning to look at your friends. all four of them share knowing looks, already having an idea of what was about to take place, "does he even want me?"

tears form at your waterline, and riri sighs and reaches out to take your hand comfortingly as she frowns. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"i don't know what we are or where we stand," you admit, biting down on your lip as you glance over at him momentarily before turning back to the girls, "he has nicknames he only calls me, right? and he's not scared to hold me or kiss me in public. hell, we've even went on what's considered a date a couple of times! oh gosh, and don't get me started on the sex, it-"

"how bout you don't get started right now," zay cuts in jokingly, causing you to giggle and wipe a stray tear that falls from your eye.

"well, okay," you say with a small sniffle, "but i just don't get it. he won't call me his, y'know? i don't know what it is. am i not good enough to be his girlfriend?"

aiden frowns at this, rubbing comforting circles on your back. "to me y/n, it sounds like he's reluctant to admit his obvious feelings for you. i mean girl, we all see the way that man looks at you."

"one time he started lookin' at me foul like i was finna steal you!" niyah admits, crossing her arms across her chest, "boy don't play, cause if i wanted you, i would've been had you!"

"oh my gosh, remember when we dated in ninth grade?" you suddenly remembered, letting a giggle slip past your lips, "i can't believe we did that."

"had everybody hot in the pants with that one," riri recalls, causing the five of you to burst out laughing.

"but seriously y/n, i think you guys will figure it out in time, okay?" zay reassures you, and you nod half-heartedly, "you guys care about each other in a way nobody else seems to understand but you two. it's gonna happen, i just know it."

you smile, wiping a tear that escapes your eyes as all five of you lean in for a group hug — chris's eyes wander over to where you're hugging your friends, and a soft smile resides on his lips as he watches you pull apart from them with your signature giggle.

he knew what he wanted to do.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part three)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is sitting in a chair in the front room of your home, his chin resting on his hand, hardly paying any attention to the sitcom playing on the tv screen.

He’s pissed off. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he doesn’t have anything to numb the pain, nothing to drown out the sound of the rain drumming on the windows?

In his haste, he didn’t pack any coke before coming here. He didn’t think he’d need it this bad.

And that photo he saw upstairs. It’s making everything so much fucking worse.

This is how the world repays him for helping someone. Figures. He’s used to having shit luck. Trying to make his own father love him has been a losing game, and he’s been at that for years, so why would anything else go his way?

“Hey.” Rafe straightens when he hears you. You look into the room. “Did the thunder wake you up, too?”

He hasn’t slept at all. But he nods.

There’s a blankness in his stare, the tv casting dull colors over his face. He didn’t bother to turn the light on.

You cross the room, hazy from your interrupted sleep, and settle on the couch. You’re far away from him, acting like you’ve never touched, even though you were just pressed against each other on his motorcycle.

You wonder if it felt nice to him, too. Or if you were just extra weight on his bike, an irritating responsibility he was cornered into taking on.

“Do you have any booze around here?” Rafe mutters. You catch the desolation in his tone.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

You instantly feel ridiculous for expecting you won’t be met with the cold shoulder. You doubt he’ll answer. But then, because the world must be off its axis, he does.

“Fucking hate this weather,” he says.

His words make a chill sink into your bones. You remember your father telling you the news years ago after he got the phone call. A torrential downpour. The freeway. Zero visibility.

Anne lost control of her car.

By the look on your dad’s face, you knew what that meant. Rafe’s mother didn’t survive the wreck.

He doesn’t have to say it. You know that’s why he hates storms.

“I can distract you,” you offer, “if you want?”

It was something you did as kids. Rafe would be angry or sad or hurt or anything and you’d talk his ear off about whatever you could think of until the dark cloud hanging over him drifted away.

His feelings always felt too big for him. You were the best at making them small enough to manage.

Rafe is used to wanting to be left alone. But not right now. Not if he can be with you. Admitting it feels impossible. The wall he spent years building around himself is solid from both sides.

“It’s your house,” he finally says. “Do what you want.”

You take it an invitation to stay. You turn your attention to the tv, as if holding eye contact with him will make him take it back.

It gives him a chance to look at you. How the fuck have you not lost patience with him yet? Why do you still care?

“I keep wanting to ask why you’re helping me,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the tv.

Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.

“This is you distracting me,” he scoffs. “Aren’t you supposed to do the talking?”

The fact that he’s expecting you to replicate the days of your youth gives you a sliver of hope that maybe he misses them, too.

“There has to be a reason you’re doing it,” you murmur.

“Can’t you just be happy that I am?” he responds. A white flash of lighting pools into the room for a split second.

“No,” you say. Finally, he gives in.

“Because I…” he begins.

The noise from the show is adding to the frustrating confusion engulfing him. He angrily picks up the remote and turns the tv off, plunging both of you in darkness.

You turn your head towards him again, only able to make out the hard outline of his jaw.

“I always had to look out for you,” he says. “I guess I still do.”

You look down at your lap, taken aback that Rafe holds any sense of loyalty for you.

You almost want to remind him of what he said earlier, that you’re not kids anymore, but you don’t want to challenge him.

“And I don’t know why,” he adds, voice thin, “but you’re not a dick to me like everyone else is, so I kind of owe you.”

All you can hear is your own breathing and the ticking of the clock in the foyer and the tap of faltering raindrops. The storm is passing.

“It’s because you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say into the silence. “It’s not like you did something to make me hate you. You shut me out, but I get why.”

Your words reverberate through him. He wonders if you think that he hates you.

Still, you could have gone to any other guy and asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“Why’d you come to me?” he asks.

“Because he’s scared of you.” You don’t have to nor do you want to say your ex’s name.

“And you’re not?”

“No.” You tilt your head. “We used to be best friends.”

You say it like he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t erase it from his brain if he tried. And he has.

The heaviness of all this is suffocating to him. The past is done. There’s no point in digging up things that’ll just hurt him all over again.

He stands up, chasing out the familiarity that was slowly growing between you. But before he leaves the room, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, either, alright?” Rafe says into the dark, irritated, answering the question you asked him on the shoreline hours ago. “Not on purpose.”

As his shadow retreats, the words he left you with ring in your head. He doesn’t blame you. But you did do something wrong.

Rafe had his head buried into his pillow, throat burning from crying through his grief, every night for months.

As he lies in an unfamiliar bed all for a girl whose very existence makes him feel a multitude of good and bad all at once, he’s thrown back into those days, as if he’s a boy again.

His mother used to tell him it was a strength to be so sensitive, but her voice faded and his father’s voice got so much louder. What he tells him every time Rafe can’t swallow down the tears echoes in his mind. Toughen up. You’re fine.

But he’s not fine. He can’t stop crying and he knows he has to tell you he can’t do this anymore. Being with you brings back too much.

But the next morning, when Rafe finds you sitting at the kitchen island, wearing your pajamas and a smile, the prospect of ending this is tossed away.

You have access to him that nobody else does. You and that damn smile are a weakness that he didn’t know he had. And while he can act happy and careless around everyone else, he can’t put on an act for you. Ever.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask. Your hands are cupping a mug, your phone sitting beside it.

“Like shit,” Rafe replies, pacing to the fridge. “Took hours to fall asleep.”

You feel guilty that he didn’t have a good rest, considering he’s only here because you were too frightened to be alone.

“You?” he says after a beat. The ice must be melting if he’s actually asking about you for once.

“My sleep was good,” you reply. “It helped having you here.”

Rafe’s cheeks get warm. Someone actually wanting him around is a foreign feeling.

By the time your conversation was over last night, the rain and thunder had dwindled. It couldn’t have been the storm keeping him awake. Curiosity pushes you to figure it out.

“Was the bed uncomfortable?” you ask.

“No,” he answers. He finds a glass and fills it with water. His throat still hurts from crying last night.

You watch him, his presence commanding as he leans back against the counter opposite you. The dark, shallow bags beneath his eyes are illuminated in the bright lights above you. He looks exhausted.

“Was the room too warm? Or too cold?” you say.

“Can you relax?” Rafe huffs, his tone almost playful.

He isn’t about to admit that he can’t remember the last time he fell asleep sober. And he’s definitely not going to tell you that the last thing he thought about before finally passing out was that his cheeks burned from how hard he was wiping his tears away.

“The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable since I made you stay the night,” you say.

His brows furrow as he takes a long gulp, tipping his head back.

“Nobody can make me do anything,” he replies once he downs the water. You know it’s the truth. It makes the fact that he’s doing this for you all the more meaningful.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes loudly on the countertop. Rafe sees your face fall when your eyes drop to the screen. You read the notification for a moment, then sigh and shake your head.

“He emailed me,” you say incredulously. “I blocked him on everything and he emailed me.”

Rafe leans over to see if you’ll let him look for himself. You slide your phone towards him and he picks it up to read Ty’s message.

What you have with him isn’t real. We both know it. Let me prove that I can treat you how you deserve. Please. I’m sorry for everything. I love you.

A part of Rafe is concerned you’ll fall for it.

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Block him there, too,” you mutter. “He does this. He’s mean, then he pretends like he changed, then he’s mean again… It’s the same bullshit over and over.”

Rafe blocks him for you and places your phone on the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dread you always feel when Ty contacts you floods your every sense.

The despair on your face makes Rafe’s stomach sink. The next time he sees Ty, he’s beating the shit out of him.

“He’ll stop, okay? I’ll make him,” he says.

You’re still skeptical. Rafe definitely scares him, but Ty called him a bullshit rebound last night. He wrote that what you have with Rafe isn’t real. You’re not fooling him. And you’re afraid he won’t leave you alone until he believes you’re actually in a new relationship now.

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly. “Doesn’t sound like he’s falling for this, though.” You motion between you and him.

Rafe has to take a moment to catch your meaning. Falling for this. Your pretend relationship. Right.

“I didn’t tell anyone it’s fake,” you say, afraid it somehow got out. “Did you?”

Rafe shakes his head no and puts his empty glass in the sink. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you again.

“Do you want me to keep crashing here until your mom and dad get back?” he asks.

You hate that your mind goes there, but you wonder when the last time he said mom out loud was. You shake away the thought.

“Not if you can’t get any actual sleep,” you respond.

Rafe typically gets irritated when someone can’t make up their mind. He wants everything done quickly, so he doesn’t have to stop and think.

But this is you and even though you’re scared of sleeping on your own, you’re considering how staying here affects Rafe and it gives him a heavy feeling of shame. He spent years avoiding the only person who never abandoned him. The only person who still gives a shit.

“I’ll just leave my stuff here,” he says, making the decision for you.

“Thank you.” You mean it. The thought of someone being here with you is comforting.

As usual, Rafe ends the conversation quickly and abruptly, leaving the room. You soon hear the engine of his motorcycle rattling loudly from outside, the roar fading as he drives away.

You hoped that he’d at least want to hang out with you now. You don’t understand why you keep expecting more from him. It just hurts you every time.

You don’t hear from Ty for the rest of the day. You manage to run some errands without worrying you’ll see him because even when Rafe isn’t with you, you don’t feel as scared knowing he’s in your corner.

The days of the week mean practically nothing on the north side of the island over the summer. There’s a party almost every night, this time at a house just down the street from you.

You invite your friends to your place, drinking as you get ready, deciding to walk over to the party. You turn up already tipsy, finding yourself looking for Rafe even though you know you should only really be doing that if Ty is bothering you.

When you walk into the loud, crowded house, seeing you reminds Rafe of why he isn’t smoking or drinking or snorting anything tonight.

He’s had countless fights while wasted, but he wants to have a clear mind when he sees Ty. He needs to make the fucker pay and not give him a chance to get even one punch in.

You meet Rafe’s blue eyes every so often throughout the night, glad you’re finally able to have fun again because you know he’s keeping you safe.

The second Ty walks in, even though he hasn’t come close to approaching you, you make your way to Rafe.

You stand close to him, placing your hand in his, acting like a girlfriend to someone who is only doing this because he feels an overdue sense of loyalty to you.

Rafe stills for a moment before he laces his fingers with yours. His skin is hot, making your heart flutter in a way you know it shouldn’t.

“Hey,” you say over the music. His ring presses against your thumb.

“Hey,” he says tensely. He’s not used to affection, especially in front of people.

But this is what he signed up for. He needs to act like a boyfriend and he’s not going to fuck this up. It’s the first real responsibility he’s had that he actually gives a shit about.

His eyes land on Ty and his plan to confront him takes a backseat when he realizes he doesn’t want to let go of you. Right now, he’d rather have his hand in yours instead of using it to throw a punch. It’s like every touch you give him leaves a heavier impact than the last.

You immediately notice how tense Rafe is.

“Can you relax?” you joke, imitating the way he said it this morning. Your heart warms when his dimples appear, framing a smile he can’t stifle.

“I don’t sound like that,” he says.

“You sound exactly like that,” you reply with a laugh, picturing how tired he looked in your kitchen. “Please tell me you got some sleep today.”

Again, the concern you seem to have never lost for him appears.

“I did,” he says. He crashed in his bed the second he got home.

“How come it took you so long to fall asleep last night?”

Rafe’s knee-jerk reaction is to avoid the question. Especially if it’s you asking. But he can’t forget how shitty it felt when you brushed him off last night at the beach, so he pushes himself to answer.

“Just, uh…” He looks away. “Couldn’t turn off my brain.”

You gaze up at him. It almost aches, how badly you’d love to know what goes through his mind.

“When did this start?” one of his friends amusedly asks, pointing between you two. You notice Ty close by, his gaze sharp as he eavesdrops. Rafe notices him, too.

You squeeze Rafe’s hand tighter, clinging to him. He notices that his entire body buzzes when you do that.

“What, was I supposed to call you?” Rafe responds.

“I’m just saying,” his friend replies with a laugh, “it’s like all of a sudden, you got a girl out of nowhere.”

Alarm stings every inch of your skin when you notice Ty’s posture straighten in your peripheral.

“Don’t sound so surprised, asshole,” Rafe replies lightheartedly, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp to drape his heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.

You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his torso. The relief from how well he played it off and the comfort you get from how he’s holding you is overwhelming.

Rafe dips his head to speak into your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, his cologne fresh.

“Think he’s falling for it now?” he mumbles, voice lowering an octave. With the way he’s holding you, you might fall for it yourself.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze him tighter, not for show, but because you want to. You’ve wanted to hug him since the funeral, when he was a boy with bloodshot eyes in a crumpled black suit, but he never let you get this close.

He brings his other hand up to your face, cradling your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His touch is so tender that you have to remind yourself it’s Rafe doing this.

You’re suspended, bodies curved together, cheeks brushing, like you’re playing a game to see who’ll let go first.

“And he’s staying away from you, right?” His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.

You nod, at a loss for words.

“Is he watching?” he asks. You can see from the corner of your eye that your ex is staring right at you.

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod.

At this point, Rafe is being selfish. This is close enough. You wanted him to act like you’re a couple and he’s done it. He can pull away now. Maybe he should keep his arm around you for a little longer, but he doesn’t need to be this close.

Instead, he lowers to press his lips against your cheek and you hug him tighter, and fuck, it feels so good that he misses it before it’s even over.

He can’t believe that his body yearns to be this close to you. You opened up the floodgates the second you put your hand on him the first time a couple of nights ago. How good would it feel if you were doing it for real?

You lean into his kiss. His lips are so soft. You wish you could feel them against yours. It’s all to make everyone think you’re actually together. You keep telling yourself that.

When your arms around him weaken just a little, you feel something at his back, protruding against your forearm.

Your eyebrows draw together as you pull back only a few inches to meet Rafe’s eyes, your mind going to the worst possible scenario. Your breath catches. It’s a weapon.

“What is that?” you ask quietly, nudging against the hard item tucked into the band of his jeans.

“What do you think?”

“Rafe,” you say. His jaw tightens. The moment is gone. The wall is back up. Your tone teeters on a thin edge, like you’re judging him.

“You’re surprised the psycho owns a gun?” he scoffs.

He didn’t brush off what Ty said like you thought he did. It makes your stomach turn that your ex’s lie actually stuck with Rafe.

You glance over to see Ty’s back as he storms out of the room. Part of you is relieved, but right now, you mostly feel anxious that Rafe believes a lie.

“I never called you that,” you reiterate to him quietly. “I’ve never said anything bad about you. You think you can trust what he says?”

“I’m not planning on using it on him, okay?” Rafe snaps. “Unless he asks for it.”

He wishes you didn’t notice it. If you didn’t think he was fucked up before, you do now. He’s pissed off and embarrassed and disappointed all at once.

You’ve been trying to reconnect with him for so long. If he gives in, you’ll see that he’s not even close to who he was when you knew him. He’ll just let you down.

He realizes he hasn’t kept his distance only because you’re a painful reminder of a time he wants to forget. It’s also because he’s sure you wouldn’t like who he’s become. And he can’t take the rejection.

You’re still, unable to believe that he actually has a gun. That he would use it. That these are the lengths he’s going to to keep you safe.

You haven’t lost contact with him, but Rafe checks out of the moment and pulls his arm away.

“He’s gone now,” he mutters. You get the message. He’s done pretending. You drop your arms and find your friends again.

Hours later, the party is dwindling, but far from over. Rafe has been sober the entire time, making him all the more antsy and irritable.

He thought he’d beat the shit out of Ty tonight, but he’s exhausted and he can’t stop shaking. Why the hell is he shaking?

Rafe loses his patience and approaches you while you’re dancing with your friends.

“Let’s go,” he says, holding your hand. The contact makes your head spin all over again. Even though you’d like to stay, you comply.

You notice Ty’s eyes on you when you leave. He’s pretending to be a good guy again, keeping his distance, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he cracks.

Once you reach Rafe’s motorcycle in the cool night air, he hands you his helmet and you take it without hesitation.

After the short drive, you walk up the steps to your front door together. But you soon stop in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at the ground.

Rafe follows your eye line. Mud’s been tracked onto the porch in fragmented footprints.

“I can’t… I can’t remember if that was there before,” you stammer. “Did you see it this morning?”

“I don’t know,” he responds. He rushed out of here too quickly to have noticed something like that.

You look around, as if you can find an answer in the darkness surrounding your home. You would have noticed it after you ran your errands earlier today. Probably. Maybe.

It could have been you. Or Rafe. Or one of your friends.

Or Ty. He didn’t arrive at the party until late into the night. Could he have been creeping around your house? Why would he?

Rafe glances up to confirm that there aren’t any cameras aiming at the door. It pisses him off when he notices there aren’t any cameras at all. He quickly catches on that your breathing has grown faster.

“Come on,” he says, gently pulling you by the crook of your elbow. “Let’s go inside. It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t believe his own words, but there’s no reason to scare you any further.

“What if he was here?” you say, letting Rafe pull you to the door. He takes the key out of your hand and pushes it into the lock.

“Then I’ll shoot him,” he mutters.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

The door swings open, prompting the security system to start beeping.

You flip on the light and enter the code as he shuts the door behind you. You’re so frightened and unnerved that you jam one of the buttons with the wrong finger, prompting a harsh error noise from the system.

“Can you do this?” you huff. You tell Rafe the five-digit code and he quickly enters it, arming the system again. You notice his hand is trembling.

“Are you okay?” you ask. You know it’s not from fear. Rafe isn’t afraid of anything. He must be high on something. “What’d you take?”

“Nothing,” he says with a humorless laugh. It dawns on him that his body is reacting to the lack of coke in his system. “That’s the problem.”

“What?” you ask.

Rafe sighs, double-checking that the front door is locked for your peace of mind.

“I can’t be wasted if that asshole tries me. I haven’t taken anything since last night,” he says. “But it just made shit worse.”

He realizes how messed up it sounds. How messed up it is that being sober for one night makes him shake like this. He has a problem. But he never really had a reason to get clean before now.

You watch Rafe checking the lock and like a riptide, everything crashes down on you at once.

The torment from Ty harassing you. The guilt from asking Rafe to take on this responsibility. The sadness from knowing that he’s only doing it because he feels a sense of obligation for you and wants nothing more.

“Bet you’re glad I have a gun now,” Rafe mutters. He turns to look at you, your expression grim. “What?”

“I don’t want to keep bothering you with this,” you admit, your heart racing with panic. “I don’t want you to have to sleep here and I don’t want you to have to drive me home all the time and… I hate that this is happening and that I had to drag you into it.”

His eyes travel over the anguish etched on your face.

“What, like it’s your fault he’s a piece of shit?” he says.

You chew on the inside of your cheek and look up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears at bay. It’s still odd being alone with him, having him in your home.

Rafe hasn’t tried to make someone feel better in a long time. He hasn’t cared enough to. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t mind doing this, alright?” he says.

“You don’t?” You take in the softness in his eyes that you don’t often see.

“Think I’d be here if I did?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “You used to do things you didn’t want to all the time for me.”

The Rafe that was your best friend always went along with whatever you wanted to play, wherever you wanted to go.

He grits his teeth, tearing his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how when he was a kid, if someone asked him who his favorite person was, he’d tell them that it was a tie between you and his mom.

“Don’t talk about how shit used to be,” he says quietly. And because he doesn’t want to see that hurt look on your face again, he adds, “Please.”

The mere prospect of talking about the past seems to actually give him pain. It dawns on you that you’re looking at a man who may have never processed what happened to him.

“Do you want something to eat?” you offer, changing the subject swiftly.

Rafe realizes he’s starving.

“Yeah,” he says.

A memory washes over you as Rafe sits at your kitchen counter, eating leftovers you heated up for him.

It was a humid summer day and you two were scarfing down the lunch his mother made for you after a morning of swimming behind his house.

Rafe always liked picking the wildflowers that grew in the grass that lined the beach for his mom. The ones he found that day were purple, sitting in a small vase she put in the center of the dining room table.

Every time he gave her a small bundle of uneven flowers, she had the same joyful reaction. Rafe always looked so proud of himself when she enthusiastically thanked her son.

It was just another happy day.

Until Ward came into the kitchen and like always, Rafe’s smile disappeared. Your best friend tended to shrink when his dad was around. Ward almost always found something to chide his son about. He never spoke like that to his daughters.

“Could you eat any faster?” Ward muttered. “Where are your manners?”

“Leave him alone, Ward,” Anne said with a sigh. His mother’s tone was only ever sharp when she was defending her little boy.

You remember watching her lean to kiss Rafe’s head, earning a small smile from him. Then she winked at you, trying to dismiss the tension from the room.

You wonder what Ward has said to Rafe ever since he lost the only person who stuck up for him.

You face the sink as you wash your hands, your back to Rafe, trying to stifle the tears that build as you imagine what the world would be like if the wreck never happened. Who would Rafe be if he never lost her? If a part of him didn’t die with her?

Is it crazy to think that you’d still be best friends, instead of two strangers pushed together in such an arduous situation? You miss her so much that it hurts and all this is yet another thing adding to the weight sitting on your shoulders.

Rafe hears you sniffle and when you finally turn around, you stare at the floor as you try to rush away.

“What is it?” he asks. Is he already failing at making you feel safe?

You freeze. You can’t tell him what’s really bothering you. Especially since he asked you not to talk about your memories.

“I’m just freaked out.” It’s not exactly what you’re thinking of now, but it’s true. This mess with Ty is a nightmare. “If he was really creeping around here… Ugh, I don’t know what he’s going to do next.”

Rafe chews slower as he observes you through narrow eyes. He’s no stranger to the pain of crying to sleep. He doesn’t want that for you.

You notice his hands are still trembling. You have no idea how often he does coke, but it must be an addiction if one night without it makes his body react like this.

“What else do you need?” he asks. It comes out sharper than he intended, like he’s asking what else you could possibly want from him after he’s given you so much.

Your lips thin as you stare at him from across the counter. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so miserable.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Good night.”

You start to walk away but Rafe says your name to stop you and it sounds so good coming out of his mouth that your stomach numbs. When was the last time he said it?

You turn to look at him. His eyes dart down to his food.

“What if…” he begins, his fork loudly clattering against the dish. “Would it help if I slept in your room?”

You’re surprised. And soothed by the thought of him sleeping close by in case your ex does something as unhinged as break in.

Everyone else paints Rafe as rude and aggressive, but you knew it. You knew he still had some kindness in him.

“Yeah,” you say. “It would help.”

(part four)

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[sun-snatcher]

Hey!! Just wondering if you do headcanons? If so can we get some hcs from We Lucky Few about Deadpool and the Gang™ being a domestic happy family 🥲🥲

#WELUCKYFEW | Headcanons galore !

i. —— THE FIRST DAY IN A NEW UNIVERSE means Wade has to break it to Blind Al that there’s gonna be 3 more strays that’ll be staying over at the apartment for a while (in tragic addition to Mary Puppin’s and Logan).

The old lady agrees (very vehemently disagreed, actually, but she knows Wade already made up his mind) only because she’d hoped he meant stray cats this time, to which she’d been disappointed with: “Say hello to Logan’s hispanic feral cat-daughter, your local homeless war veteran with a PhD and a dash of PTSD, and Amateur David Blaine—! But if he was born in the South.”

Regardless. It’s only, like, for 2 weeks! As long as they don’t touch her cocaine. Anywho, Vanessa’s already pulling strings to get you and Remy an apartment; Laura’s first instinct was to seek out the Professor and Logan’s… a drifter. Vagrancy is nothing new to him. He’ll figure his things out one way or another.

ii. —— GROCERIES COST TENFOLD during the time everyone was still crammed in that little house. Dogpool is in the trolley seat having a good time. Wade and Laura stock up on junk food and Logan’s dumped an armful of canned goods that “will actually last for the fuckin’ week.”; Meanwhile Gambit’s been banished to trolley-pushing ever since he’d admitted to stealing Skittles, M&M’s and small tidbits from the candy aisle without anyone noticing.

And you— well, you were on breakfast duty, which means bread, jams, cereals; but it’s all just a tad bit overwhelming. I mean, why is there a need for this many flavours? You can’t remember the last time you had much of a choice when it came to food since the war.

(It’s Wade who finds you. He gets it; 10 years serving Canadian military/the JTF2 means he’s seen just about every other middle-eastern country that’s a battleground— And then suddenly he’s discharged and thrown into civilian life with zero assimilation and the expectation of exercising autonomy after living his whole life under orders and the threat of damn a bullet in his head. So. Yeah, he gets why you kinda just… Blank out.)

“You can roulette it,” Wade advices. “Or pick one with your favourite colour. That’s how I did it my first few years out. Just don’t even fucking think of picking Special K or I’ll prune your ass back to the Void mys—”

iii. —— MOVIE NIGHTS ARE ON FRIDAYS. That means Gambit’s on permanent popcorn duty ever since Laura accidentally destroyed the microwave (she insists it’s Logan but the 2 holes say otherwise). And by popcorn duty I mean: having Remy shake the bag and generate enough kinetic energy to heat and pop the kernels. “Mais, if it works, it works, mes amis.”

iv. —— EVERYONE ROTATES TAKING Dogpool out on a walk. Remy uses the opportunity to have you tag along and tell him about New York when really he just likes spending time with you.

Logan has to be convinced to walk her; though he usually relents because it puts his mind to work and it helps that he can map out the city again. Sometimes Laura joins him, too. If she’s lucky, she’ll hear an X-Men story or two when Logan’s feeling particularly nostalgic. (Half of them are him shitting on Scott, but hey, she’ll take what she can get.)

v. —— LOGAN DOESN’T SLEEP. Can’t is a better way to put it, and neither can you and Remy at times; you figure maybe it’s because everything feels a little too.. fine.

Almost perfect. Too good to be true. Logan always loses all that’s close to him and as much as he hates to admit it: all of you are beginning to matter. Family, dare he even think. And it terrifies the absolute shit out of him.

Meanwhile, you get night terrors, and you’ve already alarmed everybody approximately five times now (Closing your eyes now means facing an apocalyptic warzone and the weight of life and death. You don’t talk about it. Everybody knows not to ask) so sleep is just an option to you if you could help it.

Remy stays up just out of pure habit. They used to alternate shifts back in the Void (which was why he sometimes caught Laura wide awake in the kitchen at weird hours of the night, too) because the Hideout became too vulnerable with their dwindling numbers. Losing Daredevil had been the catalyst.

Fortunately, sleep still does happen: You’re curled in the loveseat with Gambit’s coat over you as a makeshift blanket— you must’ve lighted out first. Remy and Logan are dead asleep on the ratty, squeaky couch; Laura half-melted beside them, legs hanging off the pleated sofa arms with Dogpool asleep in her arms. Love Island drones from the outdated home TV.

vi. —— WADE TAKES A SELFIE when he catches the scene.

He’s used it as the icon of the groupchat he created (lovingly titled: LIMBO LOSERS CLUB!) once he made sure everyone got some means of communication for when they moved out.

Not that Logan will ever use it.

Or Blind Al— “I mean, she doesn’t even text Wade, why is she in the chat?”

[babyb1ues]

Xavier’s No Restraint

and when the string finally snaps.

“Young people don’t know how to cherish what they have.”

The concept of immortality is always a fascinating one. The dichotomy of life and death and what you lose and what you gain. What a long life strips from your soul and your understanding of the very same life you live.

Something about Xavier, he has learned to cherish–the hard way, I think. Modern humans, who get caught up in the windmill of life, a constant struggle, too busy, too tired, too distracted to live in the moment, sit back and take it in. Now, think about life, but without a clock ticking above your head, living in the blissfulness and unknownness of what it’s like to exist in borrowed time. No longer transient, unrepeatable. You take it for granted.

He went to explain himself as soon as possible. The meaning of his absence, pointed out by one of the targets, nonetheless. He’s got a habit of disappearing, everybody knows this. He’s worked alone for so long he’s become of secretive nature—relying on himself. But he’s got someone else now, and he knows he can’t just up and leave like he’s used to. If I remember correctly MC has called him out on this before, but this is no time and place to question him, so we get, “Why are you suddenly talking about this?” and maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed to admit it, and the wind gives a certain lightness to his words—carry them away after he’s delivered them, so he says then, “No reason.” But there’s always a reason.

He’s forced to come clean. I hesitate to call it a justification of his actions, it doesn’t feel quite right. I’d rather go for an understanding of his actions, he wants us to understand the reason for not just why he did what he did just now, but this specific pattern of his behavior, of his psychology—the disappearing without a trace, the nonchalant of his voice.

It’s like he wants to say If I leave is not because I choose to, not this time. And he doesn’t take it for granted, not this time. We know this to be true, to an extent. He knows we know. Nobody asked for an explanation, but he offers one, reaffirms it. Words are mere airflow unless you mean what you say.

One room. One bed.

He doesn’t mind sleeping outside. Outside. Where it’s a cold lobby and uncomfortable and probably noisy with the incoming rain. It’s not like he’s a stranger, he’d be let inside–he knows this too, that’s why he suggested it first. Xavier knows boundaries—to a goddamn fault, time and time again to the point it’s frustrating to watch. It’s like being scared of burning your hand. He hovers, hesitates, prods and pulls back. You know the fire would eat you up, but when all you’ve known is cold the warmth of a fire sounds alluring.

Xavier is shown to be on the edge of flirting with fire. It’s not the first time. The flame licks at his finger, dances around him, he lets it, only to later shut it down with a swiftness. This time it’s different though, there’s oil slowly dripping into the flame.

“...kneels in front of me, grasps my ankle, and takes off my high heels.”

And it’s him, he’s feeding into it when he knows he shouldn’t have.

“...leans against the edge of the table, shoulder to shoulder with me.”

But the light is too bright.

“Did you reconsider?”

Too warm.

“So I could have you all to myself.”

He prods with a finger. He asks if he’s your favorite.

And he can’t help himself.

The narrative reads “If we stayed there another second, a fire would’ve started.”

The card is called No Restraint, yet there’s a whole lot of restraint coming from him —all the time—so much that it damn nears aches, and it shows. Gazes caught lingering, hiding away yet still nudging a sleeping beast. He’s lying through his teeth, playing along with words he knows to be untrue, words that let him know that he is wanted. And he is wanting too.

He asks if you want to do something, before the rain stops. The weather has you hostage in this room with nowhere to go. It’s just you and him, and he needs to know, once again. He needs to know if you’re okay with it.

He’s at the edge of it, not fully engulfed. The liquid dripping down his temple transforms from water droplets of a shower to the moisture of his skin. He grabs the hand venturing towards his neck because it’s a game until it’s not. He parts his mouth, panting like he’s short of breath, as if he were fighting an internal battle.

“...I am trapped by something.”

The whisper of his name is enough to plunge him into the depths of it.

The flame bursts into a fire, and he lets himself be burned.

[ranhaitanisgf]

hi!! can you write an oneshot of yuuji confessing his love to reader with the help of the first years and gojo? you are my fav writer!! ily bye<3

just confess already!!

synopsis: yuuji just can't get you out of his head!! maybe his friends and teacher can help?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ first req for jjk !! it took a long time to write this bc i wasnt sure if i was characterizing everybody right, so lmk how i did !! thank you so much anon for requesting this idea; it was soso cute !! i hope you all enjoy ! xoxo

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ yuuji itadori x fem!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 2.1k+

masterlist

“idiot.” a harsh slap on the back of his head made yuuji yelp out in surprise and slight pain, clutching the back of his head. “if you keep staring like that she’s gonna notice, y’know.” he pouted a bit as nobara sat herself next to him, sipping a smoothie as the two of them watched you train with maki. 

“whatever…” he mumbled, setting his head on his hand. nobara watched him for a moment, the kicked puppy look on his face making her let out a breath, sighing. 

“i can’t enjoy your struggle with love if you look like that.” yuuji didn’t respond to her comment, making her roll her eyes. “hey, stop ignoring me and listen. you have the love expert sitting right next to you and you’re not even gonna ask me anything?” 

“you’ve never even had a boyfriend.” 

“hey!! i’m not gonna help you if you start being a little shit!” she yelled, huffing as she took another sip of her smoothie. 

as nobara looked at yuuji, she had to admit that it was strange to see him like this. it was odd to see yuuji so down in the dumps and not talking excitedly about something stupid, (not that she really cared. it was just an observation). 

“...you gonna confess to her?” 

“confess to who?!” 

“aah!” nobara screamed as she jumped, her cup almost slipping from her grasp. gojo peeked his head out between yuuji and nobara, his face twisting in feigned pain. 

“woah! don’t go screaming so loud, nobara! you’re gonna burst my eardrums!” the man whined, dramatically clutching his ears. 

“well maybe don’t go sneaking up on people like that!! i could’ve dropped my smoothie!!” she complained, clutching her smoothie much closer. despite the sudden appearance and scare from gojo, yuuji hadn’t even moved a muscle, his cheek still squished up against his hand as he watched you, your training partner now being panda. 

“sorry! but what’s got our vessel so down in the dumps? he get rejected?” 

“he’s gotten himself rejected in his mind before even confessing.” 

“ahhh, young love. so tragic!” gojo exclaimed dramatically. “so, who is it? hmmm…” gojo’s head turned to yuuji, matching his gaze until he saw you. “woah, (y/n)! what’re you gonna do?” 

“dunno…panda said she’s totally into some guy from kyoto…” nobara raised a brow at his words, scrunching her brows as she thought for a moment. 

“panda is a big fat liar. (y/n)-chan does have a crush on someone, but-” 

“you know who she has a crush on?!” yuuji suddenly asked, his voice raising two octaves and his jaw almost dropping. “who is it?!” 

“i’m not gonna break girl code for you, stupid! all i’ll say is that panda is completely wrong and that you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” she stated, making an ‘x’ symbol with her fingers. “you’ll be fine, so just confess already.” 

“i don’t even know how to do that! it looks so easy in those romance movies…” yuuji said, completely unaware of what she had just implied. 

“you watch romance movies? actually, why does that make complete sense- nevermind! stop being a coward! girls don’t like men who are cowards!” nobara confidently stated. “you’ve gotta be confident and tell your feelings unashamedly! be bold! be fearless!” 

the little pep talk had no effect on yuuji, the boy just sighing and standing up when he noticed that you were finished with training. before he could get up and walk away, gojo suddenly grabbed him from under his armpits, easily lifting him up and walking away with him, (yuuji’s flapping and flailing had absolutely no effect). 

nobara had stayed seated, staring at the scene for a couple moments and wondering if she should get herself involved, (teenage boys are so much trouble, after all). despite the fact that she could do much better things with her time, she ultimately decides to get up and follow them. see, she’s thinking for her future self! the future her wouldn’t be able to enjoy the small moments of peace and quiet if yuuji was constantly moping and feeling sorry for himself, so she has to intervene now for her own self preservation! 

“hey, let go of me!” 

“we have to fix this, stat! i wouldn’t be a good teacher if i didn’t help you out!” 

“i’m not asking for your stupid help! have you even had a girlfriend before, sensei?!” gojo gasped at yuuji’s words, shaking him a bit as he continued to carry him to wherever he was taking him, (nobara isn’t sure why she decided to help, actually. this was ruining her peace and quiet). 

“ouch! you don’t think your own mentor is hot with the ladies?!” gojo suddenly stopped walking when he noticed a familiar black-haired first year who stopped in the doorway to the school, staring at the scene in front of him. 

for a few seconds, megumi stared at gojo, hoping that silence would hopefully be enough to exclude him from whatever was going on right now. 

“megumiii~! come help us with yuuji~!” 

“no thanks.”

“me~gu~mi~!” 

“i’m busy.” 

--

you’re not sure what’s going on right now. 

you had been walking with maki and panda back from training, the three of you talking about getting a bite to eat somewhere good after taking showers and freshening up, (you felt pretty cool that you were able to hang out with the second-years, so you were pretty excited about it). 

when the three of you had heard a giant racket from behind you, none of you had expected to turn around and find gojo and the other first years restraining yuuji as they were sprinting your way at quite the alarming speed, (gojo was holding yuuji like a cat, his hands under his armpits while megumi and nobara were half-heartedly crouch-running while holding his legs). 

“aahhh!! let me go!! let go!!” yuuji was yelling, trying his best to wrangle himself out of gojo’s grip. 

“what in the world…” you said in shock, preparing to get out of the way since they didn’t seem to be slowing down, (would they willingly crash into all you? nah…right?). 

they all suddenly stopped right in front of you, unceremoniously dropping yuuji. he didn’t lose his balance though, standing up straight away and throwing his hands up in anger. 

“hey!! what’s the big idea here?!” he was yelling, his face twisted in confusion and frustration. “you can’t just pick me up and take me wherever you want!!”

“actually, i can! maki, panda!! let’s scram!!” gojo said, a big smile on his face as he started shooing them off. 

“hah? why should we-?” 

“c’mon c’monnnn! listen to your teacher for once!” gojo interrupted, taking hold of both of their shoulders and pulling them along with him. “ oh, and (y/n)! yuuji has something to say to you!” megumi and nobara followed behind him as they shook their heads, leaving you and yuuji staring at them in shock as they all walked away. 

“what the hell just happened…?” you asked, your question hanging in the air as you watched them all promptly exit the scene, (you could still hear maki arguing with gojo in the distance which you thought was a bit funny). 

yuuji didn’t answer your question, his jaw hanging wide open as he watched everyone walk away and leave him there. 

“uh, yuuji…? you alright? gojo-sensei said you have something to say?” you asked, a bit concerned. yuuji was finally looking at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to say something, (were his cheeks pink? are you imagining things?). it was odd to see him acting so timid, especially when he was usually so excited and friendly. maybe he was finally making a move? 

no, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. 

“i…uhh…” he managed to let out, his hands moving to his head to mess with his hair. you nodded patiently, waiting for him to say something. 

“yes?” 

“i…you…uhhhh…” he shook his head, his hands suddenly slapping his cheeks. “i like you!!” he exclaimed, his eyes screwed shut. “i really like you and panda said that you liked a guy from kyoto so i wasn’t going to say anything but nobara said i should go for it and i wasn’t going to but then gojo-sensei dragged me all the way here so i kinda feel like i have to say it now! i’m sorry!!!” you stared as he talked, not even taking a breath between his sentences as words poured out of his mouth. at the end of it he bowed deeply to you, his arms stiff at his sides. 

all you could do was stare at him for a few moments, his talking being too fast for your brain to process all at once. the silence was thick over the two of you as he anxiously waited for an answer from you, whose eyes were blown wide as you realized what was happening right now. 

the first thing you did was gently grab his shoulders, pulling him up from his bow and smiling at him, your hands moving to hold his, (you found it cute that his palms were sweating a bit). 

the second thing you did was giggle a bit at his flushed and embarrassed expression; you didn’t think you’d ever see him like this, but you were glad that you were. 

“yuuji! i thought you would never say anything! i like you too~!” now he was the one staring at you with wide eyes, his gaze flicking down to look at your joined hands, then back up to your smiling face. 

“me? you like me?!” he asked in shock. 

“of course, silly!” you answered, squeezing his hands a bit. “i’ve liked you since the first day i met you. i was waiting for you to realize!” yuuji continued gaping at you, his shock extremely evident on his face. “was it really not that obvious?” 

“i’m kinda stupid, so i didn’t know…” he mumbled, his eyes staring deeply into your own, almost as if he was searching for your feelings in them. a smile suddenly bloomed on his face, his shock melting away as he gave you the most genuine and happy grin you’ve ever seen in your life, (you’re being blinded!!). 

“will you let me be your boyfriend?” he asked, lacing your fingers together. “i can’t say that i’m the smartest and i can’t say that i’m the strongest, but i will do my best to make you happy!” 

there was a particular shine of complete and utter love in his brown eyes that beamed a light straight into your heart; a complete k.o!

“guh, yuuji…” you said, your head dropping down. “my heart…” 

“what?! are you okay, (y/n)??” 

“ahhh, you’re so cute…!” you exclaimed, popping your head back up to beam at him. “let’s go do something!! right now!” 

“r-right now!? where-?!” you cut his words off by starting to drag him with you, beginning to jog a bit. he confusedly jogged behind you, but despite his confusion his hand held yours in a firm grip, blindly following your lead as you led the both of you down the halls. 

“somewhere! wherever we find something cool!” you giggled, going outside the school and leading him in the direction of the city. “let’s get some good food! oh, and maybe we can watch a movie or something! didn’t you want to watch that worm movie?” 

“human earthworm 4? seriously?! you’ll see it with me??” yuuji asked, his expression dumbfounded and elated at the same time. 

“of course! i would do anything if it was with you!” 

“h-huh?! anything?!”

“yep! anything!” you smiled, looking back at him. his cheeks were completely flushed by this point, the pink shade being darker than his hair color. even more obvious than his flustered state though was how happy he was; his face was contorted in the most beautiful grin you think you’ve ever seen and you almost trip over your own feet because you’re so happy too. 

“...i-i would do anything too! if it was with you!” he exclaimed, unconsciously helping you jump over a big root in the pathway. “i think anything would be good if it had you!” 

“do you mean it?” 

“of course i do!! i feel like you always have this sort of aura that’s just like whoosh! and then i just feel better, even if my lunch got stolen out of the fridge!” 

“haha, i have an aura? don’t worry though, i’ll protect your lunches from now on!! you won’t need my aura because-!” 

“no, i do need your aura! always!” 

“hmm, well i guess we could arrange that, right?” you mused, giggling. yuuji’s eyes drifted to his view of your smile, your joyful expression making his heart go ten times faster than it already was. 

hey! not that he’s complaining…it’s really nice, so….his heart rate be damned!! 

yuuji doesn’t know if there’s a god out there or a higher power, but he hopes that he can be able to relive this moment with you forever, (would it be too much for him to ask to be with you forever? it would be, right?).

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hi hi!! Can I request a oneshot with Sebek where he has a crush on reader but they're oblivious. Sebek himself is in denial that he might even hold feelings for somebody, but it's clear how he truly feels through his actions (aka acts of service, helping the reader). He pretends to act annoyed about it but the red on his face gives him away to everybody except reader who's just 'hes such a nice guy!". It's gotten to the point even Ace and Deuce of all people are trying to tease/hint to them about what's going awn 😭

COMMENTS: Hi! Um... I'm not sure if this is what you wanted, but I ended up being inspired* to write a story in which Ace and Deuce, with Lilia's help, created a plan to make Sebek confess his feelings. I'm also the oblivious type in these situations so...

I hope you and all enjoy ;)

*(You can see this by the number of words I ended up writing. This doesn't usually happen to me)

CHARACTERS: Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration

WORD COUNT: 1.520 words

“Each day this gets even more ridiculous, cringe and awkward.” Ace complains. “And every time we tease them, Sebek pierces our eardrums and (Y/N) gets closer to becoming the third member of the Face Palm Club.”

“Yeah...” Deuce says “He even started appearing out of nowhere just to be useful to (Y/N), even when it's not necessary. I wonder where he learned to be so sneaky with that height and that voice.”

“In fact, the situation is starting to lose the fun it had at the beginning.” A voice suddenly said, startling Ace and Deuce. Lilia just did his upside down appearance.

“Is Sebek acting strange in Diasomnia too?” Deuce asks, after recovering from the scare.

“Well, he was always a peculiar boy.” Lilia chuckles. “I believe you also had fun teasing him.” he sighs “But Sebek's denial of (Y/N)'s obliviousness is already starting to go on for a long time. Even for me. He started talking about (Y/N) the same way he talks about Malleus.” He starts to laugh softly to himself.

“What's so funny?” Ace asks “Did you remember anything embarrassing that happened?”

“I did. One day...” Lilia had just talked to Sebek to try to get him to admit that he have a crush on you. His mission failed due to Sebek’s stubbornness. Lilia was close to the door and Sebek wasn't paying attention to it. He was yelling at another Diasomnia student for some reason. Lilia smiled mischievously and said loudly something like: “Oh (Y/N)! To what do we owe the visit?” Sebek’s thunderous voice fell silent immediately and he turned to the door with a smile that was unthinkable a second ago. Lilia was amused to see his expression turn to embarrassment upon discovering that Lilia had tricked him.”

Ace and Deuce laughed.

“Dude, the other day I was trying to hint (Y/N) that Sebek had a thing for them. Do you know what they replied to me?” Ace imitates your voice with a cute smile on his face “Aw, he's just being nice. And I was like, He’s only nice to you!”

Lilia started by laughing, but then wondered: “As (YN)’s close friends, do you think they might feel the same way about Sebek?”

“Oh, definitely!” Ace confirms “But since he's in denial, I think (Y/N) understands this as not being interested. I mean, you just said he treats Malleus the same way. Do you think he has a crush on Malleus too?” Ace laughs.

“I've been further from believing in such a thing.” Lilia whispers to himself. “But despite the treatment he gives them both is similar,” he says to them “I can distinguish between the admiration he feels for Malleus and the affection he feels for (Y/N). He sees Malleus as an extremely respectable superior. In (Y/N)'s case I believe it's more like someone weaker but worthy of his protection and respect.”

“What do you think it would be like if they finally declared themselves to each other?” Deuce asks.

“Well, as I've never seen Sebek go through anything like this before, the results might be surprising.” Lilia smiles mischievously “An experiment worth testing, don't you agree?”

You were in Ramshackle Dorm when you hear someone knocking on the door. A strong, firm type of knocking that you recognize.

“HUMAN! How can you be so reckless with your own safety?!” Sebek says the moment you open the door. If you say "Hello to you too" before asking what he's talking about, he will blush slightly and respond: “I apologize for not greeting you properly. But Lilia-sama told me about your cursed room. And that's why I'm here.” he gets a smug on his face “Lilia-sama entrusted me with instructions to solve your problem.”

You ask him what he's talking about. You didn't have any cursed rooms. At least that you knew.

“Lilia said maybe you don't know yet. He suggested asking the ghosts if this is true. They would have more knowledge about this subject.”

You do this and the ghosts confirm it. They say yes, that there is a scary, cursed room in the dorm and that they are very grateful to Seberk for being there to help them. And you know something is up. Not with the dorm, but with the ghosts. Was Lilia messing with Sebek again and asked the ghosts for help?

The ghosts guide you to the "cursed room". If you ask where Grim is, they'll tell you he was so scared by that room that he hid in your bedroom. That excuse doesn't convince you.

“You know,” One of the ghosts tells Sebek. “We’re very happy to see that someone cares about (Y/N) as much as you do.”

Sebek starts to blush a little. “W-well, this is nothing special. Don't think I'm doing this because I have some strong feelings for (Y/N). Don't let those two Heartslabyul humans get that idea into your heads. I'm here because I was entrusted by LIlia-sama himself to solve the problem that a poor human without magic wouldn't be able to deal with.”

The ghosts look between them, disappointed by Sebek's stubbornness and denial.

Once in front of the cursed room's door, you open it. You and Sebek enter a dusty and unused room like so many others in Ramshackle Dorm. And the door abruptly shuts behind the two of you, leaving you locked inside.

Sebek takes a step as if to run towards the door but stops himself. You ask why he did that, if he wasn't going to try to open the door.

“My first instinct is to do so. But Lilia said this would happen. And that I needed to be firm and follow the instructions he had given me.”

“Which are...?” you ask.

“The ones in the paper on my pocket that Lilia said I shouldn't open until this very moment.”

Even though I knew it sounded like a Lilia prank, you also knew that it didn't matter what you said to Sebek. He never disputes Lilia's word even if it's the silliest thing anyone has ever heard. And he wasn't going to start doubting it now. Your only option, besides having a useless argument with Sebek, is to play along.

He takes the paper out of his pocket, unfolds it and reads it. The next thing you see is a look of astonishment and a loud "WHAT?!" coming from his mouth. You ask what is written on the paper and he needs a few seconds to take a deep breath before telling you. He blushed again and read it out loud.

“To break the curse, two people must sacrifice their freedom within the room, until they both confess their true feelings for each other.”

Yes, you know that sounds like a non-sense romantic trope, but once again, Sebek won't question anything Lilia says. Or in this case, writes. He turns to you.

“Well, you are the host. By all means, go first.”

Well, that all sounds to you like some kind of prank. So you decide not to tell the truth. You say you like him, but not in a way that he perceives as romantic, to protect your feelings.

“I'm glad that you realize how valuable I am in your life.” He says this with a smug that disappears right after. “You... for a human are very... respectable, and... worthy of my devotion. Yes, I think this would suffice.”

He quickly heads for the door. Pull it. It doesn't open. Push. Nothing. He starts trying to force the door open, but the only thing he can do is practically shake the wall.

He gives up, frustrated. He inhales and sighs, turns like the soldier he is and walks towards you with a determined look in his eyes. “Human, I wasn't completely honest with you. I want to reiterate that I am only doing this to break the curse! Everything that is said in this room must never leave the same! UNDERSTOOD?”

You agree. Sebek closes his eyes, as if it would be easier for him to say it. And his cheeks start to blush.

“I don't know what this is.” He opens his eyes, with that exaggeratedly angry look of his. “And I refuse to call it... being in love or, as those humans you hang out with say, having a crush.” he calms down again “What I said earlier is not a lie. I do respect you, and I do see you as one of the few worthy of my devotion. But not like the Young Master or Lilia. I...” he closes his eyes again, and his blush intensifies “I NOURISH STRONG PLEASANT FEELINGS FOR YOU! THAT IS ALL I KNOW!”

You take this opportunity to be honest with him as well. In your own way and with your words you say that you feel the same way about him. You two are silent for a few seconds after that. Sebek doesn't know what to say or what to do, he just lets himself look at you with a surprised and affectionate look that you've never seen before.

The door slowly opens by itself.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX