#they would just be so... awkward together

[reiderwriter]

So obviously Spencer is iconic for his wide range of haircuts over the show, and I have this vision of a Spencer x hairdresser fic where he goes to the same hairdresser all the time because he likes the routine and it’s what he’s used to. So like they’re low-key friends bc he’s been her client so long, but then she notices he can’t come as usual and he tells her it’s because he’s always away or working late. So because they’re close she gives him private late appointments after she closes bc they’re more accessible for him, and then they’re always together late at night, and eventually they fall for each other!! And like she loves his curls and cringed when he wanted it cut short but loves it regardless AHH I JUST LOVE IT. Bonus points if Spencer gets to recommend his hairdresser girlfriend to his teammates just to brag about the fact he has a hot girlfriend lmao. I get it’s kinda long lol, if it’s too long a premise then no worries, just sharing it is nice :)

A/N: Hi! I love the idea of hair stylist reader, so I had a lot of fun writing this~♡ Thank you for your request, I hope you enjoy it!

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: implied Autistic Reid, brief mentions of sensory issues, writer does not care for the shows Canon hair continuity and does basically whatever she wants.

Masterlist

The first time you'd met Spencer Reid, you hadn't been able to cut his hair. Which was a damn shame because it really did need cutting. 

Sweeping up the floors of the hair salon you worked at, you had noticed the man lingering outside, wringing his hands together and pushing them awkwardly through his hair, approaching and retreating every few seconds. 

You watched him through the mirrors, and let him dance around like that for five minutes before deciding that the evening breeze would be a boon during the hot summer night that was about to set in on you. 

Opening the salon door, you stepped outside and soaked in the fresh air before turning to the now frozen, slightly awkward man. 

“Can I help you?” You tried to put a welcoming smile on your face, but the salon was past closing and empty beside you. You should've been heading home by now, but something in the man's posture had you dawdling.

“The barber shop down the road closed down,” he said quickly, as if the words were practised on his to guess moments before. 

“Yes, that's true. It's been six months now.”

“Six months?” he squeaked out, running a hand through his hair as he turned inwards. 

“Do you… need a haircut?” 

“Yes. Yes, are there any other barber shops in the area?” 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the salon, picking up a robe and a shoulder cover and spinning around the closest chair to welcome him. 

“Well, are you coming in?” 

“But you're closed. Your sign says you're closed.” 

“And I'm still here, aren't I?” 

He didn't argue any further and hesitantly stepped into the salon. 

You helped him out of his bag and put it away before helping him into the robe and shoulder pad. 

He awkwardly stood around as you prepared your scissors and station again, switching on the mirror light so you could fully see his face and hair. 

And damn was he attractive. As you smoothed his hair out of his face, you were met with warm brown eyes, open and anxious, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, more accurately, a dear caught in a hair salon. 

You had to blink and look away as you remembered what you were about, standing up and leading him over to the sink. 

“I'm… I'm a little bit sensitive about my hair,” he admitted quite meekly as you tested the temperature of the water. 

“Okay. Is there anything specific?” 

He sat himself in the chair but didn't lower his head to the bowl, so you waited. 

After a minute or two, he gently lowered his head to the bowl, and you helped his progress, making sure he was comfortably settled. He didn't speak, just let his shoulders relax and closed his eyes as you turned the water on his locks. 

You enjoyed the simple repetitions of your job. Everyone's hair was different, that was true, but there were really only so many ways to wash hair. 

You rinsed his hair thoroughly, keeping the water away from his face and ears with a face guard before beginning to lather it up. 

For a man who hadn't seen the inside of a salon in six months and likely a hairbrush in the same length of time, his hair was healthy. 

De-tangling as you went, you ran your hands through the lengths of his hair, taking note of how it fell, which parts were healthy, and which had developed split ends. Then you began massaging his head, working the shampoo into his roots, making sure his scalp was free from any possible dirt or dry skin. 

This was the best part of the haircut for you, and you knew your regular clients enjoyed it greatly as well. Which is why you probably shouldn't have been too surprised when the man fell asleep. 

It took you a few minutes to realize that was what happened, the face guard obscuring his face from your vision. When you squeezed the water from his hair, patted it dry, and twisted it into a towel so the water wouldn't run down his back, you had no clue that he was away with the fairies. 

It wasn't until you asked him to stand, and he didn't even move that you moved around the sink and lifted the face guard. 

If he seemed anxious awake, it had melted away now. He looked younger asleep, more calm and confident somehow. His eyelashes were long, a fact you only noticed when you leaned in to get a better look at him. 

It was your hand unconsciously tracing a hand along his jaw that woke him back up, and for a second, you just stared at each other, faces inches apart. 

“I'm.. I'm so sorry, I should go. Thank you for… I should go,” he said hurriedly, pulling the robes and towels off and snatching his bag up, running out the door. 

“Wait, your hair,” you called after him, but he was gone. 

And he hadn't paid. 

It took a week for you to collect the payment, though you couldn't care less about the money anyway. 

But a week thinking about the man's delicate features, his shy smile and stutter, and you were very distracted. 

Thinking about him had become your full-time job, as much as cutting hair had, and you'd had a few close encounters with the scissors when you were lost in thought. 

You'd been thinking up back stories for the man ranging from the romantic to the obscure to the downright realistic. So, a week later, you found yourself behind on work and needing to stay late, just as he stepped into the shop a second time. 

“Hello?” You shouted from the backroom, hearing the doorbell jingle as it opened. “We're actually closed right now, so- oh.” 

He stood awkwardly in the door, his face already flushed slightly. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” you said, trying to stop the grin spreading across your face. You didn't want to scare him off a second time. 

“Last time, I… kinda ran away. I was… I'm not the best with-” 

“With haircuts?” 

“With change.” You both nodded at that, awkwardly staring at each other. 

“So…?” You lead, trying to encourage him to introduce himself, hoping he would reveal something you didn't already know. 

“You're closed again, but could you cut my hair?” He asked, pushing the long locks back on his head as he stood a little taller. 

“It would be my pleasure…” you trailed off as a question, needing to know his name. 

“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor… just Spencer is fine if you'd prefer.” 

“I'm Y/N. Come and take a seat.” 

You slid him into the robes once again and got through a hair wash without any accidental naps this time. Though you did notice that he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. 

His sighs left you feeling hot, your heart beating as you focused on his hair to draw your gaze from his lips. 

When he was back I'm front of the mirror, he again looked like a scared cat that had been backed into the corner. 

“So, what'll it be, Spencer?” You asked cheerily, combing your hand through his locks to detangle them. 

“Hmm? Oh, a water would be nice.” 

“For your hair, Spencer. What haircut do you want?” 

“Oh! Oh, um, just a…just a haircut.” 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as he doubled down. 

“But what kind of haircut?” 

“What kind?” 

You pulled away from his chair for a minute and went to grab a cut reference book. 

“Okay, so we've got undercuts, or trims, I can do pompadour or bowl cut or-” 

You looked at Spencer's face again and saw that he looked more than confused. 

“How about I just cut your hair and after you tell me if you like it or not?” 

He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you grabbed your scissors. 

Twenty minutes of silence later, and you felt Spencer exhale in relief as you dusted off the back of his neck and pulled the robes off of his clothes. 

You'd gone for a shorter cut, but his curly hair had such a nice natural texture that you left it a bit longer on top. Without his hair in his face, his jawline was sharper, his eyes brighter, and you were somehow more infatuated. 

He stood up shyly and you smiled at how good he looked. 

“Okay, perfect! Let me just-” You lifted your hand and smoothed out some of his hair, picking up some strands and pushing them back and forth until it was just right. 

He caught your hand just as you were about to pull away, and you suddenly realized how close he was. Or more accurately how close you had gotten. It was like you were breathing the same air. 

“D-Do you like it?” You asked, voice small and high as it battled your heartbeat to be heard. 

“Yeah. I like it. It looks… it looks like a haircut.” 

You giggled as his grip became gentler, and your hand fell down to your side, brushing his chest gently as it descended. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and you led him over to the register to complete the payment. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags to head out the door. 

“Just doing my job. I'll see you in six weeks,” you said, waving him off. 

“What for?” He asked, voice confused but bright. He sounded almost hopeful. 

“For your next haircut, Spencer.” 

He smiled and waved back as he walked back into the dark and disappeared down the street. 

No one could ever accuse Spencer Reid of being forgetful, and six weeks later, he was back in your chair. 

Except he didn't arrive at 11pm this time, but instead 11am. 

The other customers and stylists gawked at the man as he walked in, and you thanked the gods that your seat was free as he met your eyes. 

“Hi.” 

“Spencer! You're back.” 

He nodded shyly, head hanging a little as he ignored the many looks from the women in the room and the eruption of whispers and loud glances in his direction. 

“It's been six weeks. You said that's when I'd need another haircut.” 

You laughed a little as you pulled the robe around him. 

“You know, I say that every time, but most people ignore me. I love a man who can follow directions.” 

The eruption of red on his cheeks left you feeling suddenly tongue tied, and you carefully redirected the conversation back to the task at hand. 

“Same again, Doc?” You asked, readying your spray bottle and supplies. 

“Actually, could we, ah, go shorter this time?” Hesmiled sheepishly and watched as you ran your fingers through his tangled hair. 

“My boss, last time, said I looked like I joined a boyband, so…” 

“Your boss at the hospital?” You asked, clinging to every detail you could get from him. 

“The hospital?” 

“You said you were a Doctor, do you work in a lab instead or-”

“Oh. No, I work at the FBI. I'm not a medical doctor, I have a PhD. I have three, Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics.” 

You whistled. “Impressive. You can't be older than 30.” 

“I'm 29.” He said, smiling at you in the mirror, and you smiled back, hands still running through his hair. 

“So, no boy band haircuts, okay. For what it's worth, though, you look totally hot.” 

The words cut the conversation short, and you tried your best to take the words back as you went off to the sides to grab your sheers. 

Half an hour later, and you could swear that half the salon had given up pretending to be doing their jobs and were just awkwardly ogling the man. If the shorter “boyband” hair was good, the undercut you'd done for him was even better. 

You turned him around to get a closer look, using the excuse of making sure his hair was symmetrical enough to stare at him some more as you got closer to finishing. 

“Okay,” you said with a sad sigh. “You're all finished, Spencer. Let's get you rung up.” 

He nodded and followed you quickly, pulling out his wallet as he paid quietly. 

“Okay. And I'll see you tomorrow,” you said, as he picked up his bags to leave. 

“Tomorrow? I thought you said it was six weeks between haircuts.” 

“It is. But it's also my day off tomorrow, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me.” 

He blinked at you once. Then twice, and another time before smiling and looking away. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and nearly walked into the door he was trying to walk through, but your heart still fluttered as you waved him out. 

[barcaatthemoon]

turned on || alexia putellas x reader ||

a night out forces you and alexia to finally do something about your obvious attraction to one another.

alexia was awkward. you had known that long before you'd ever met the woman. the two of you were respective superstars for your countries, both the faces of your women's leagues. the news of the famed (y/n) (y/l/n) going from bayern to barcelona had shaken up the european football world. however, the events that would follow would do so once again, perhaps to a bigger magnitude.

you had been at bayern since their youth academy. there had never been another club for you, not even for a loan. however, when your contract with bayern ended, you had decided to look elsewhere. you loved the team, and the things that everybody was doing together, but you wanted a change.

barcelona had come knocking on your door the loudest. they were willing to shell out a lot of money, nearly three times as much as your old club. it wasn't just about the money, but you had to admit that it had a nice ring to it. there were things that you could do with this money that you felt would benefit your community much more than you just scoring a few goals during your games.

your first few months in spain had been difficult. you weren't exactly conversational in spanish, nor were you all that great with english. your teammates were patient with you, especially frido, ingrid, and caro. they were like your lifelines, none of them ever leaving you completely alone at training. unfortunately for you, they were all around enough to notice the way that you and alexia stared at each other.

"hmm, that's a very interesting shirt choice. it looks oddly familiar," frido teased as she grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt. you didn't give her little comment the decency of a response. yes, you had picked this outfit out because the last couple of times that you had worn it, alexia hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you.

"i think that our captain will like it. although, i'm not sure she'll appreciate the attention you'll get from it," ingrid said. you blushed a little as you turned away from them to finish getting ready. you had done your makeup a little bit edgier than normal. alexia seemed to like the darker look on you, at least that was what mapi had told you.

you checked over your outfit one more time before you followed your friends out of ingrid's room. mapi was flexing in the mirror, something that had both you and ingrid laughing at her. mapi ignored the two of you and continued, much to aitana's annoyace.

"let's go." frido wrangled everybody into her car, letting you have the passenger's seat. you were still getting used to things like the famous spanish affection and lack of personal space. befriending mapi through ingrid was a big help, but you were still even more awkward than caro in most situations.

at the club, you were immediately whisked away to the bar with pina, cata, and patri. they fed you shot after shot, which you enjoyed until alexia, irene, marta, and sandra pulled your group back from the bar. irene had been the one to grab you, but you didn't let that last for long. with some difficulty, you put yourself in alexia's grasp, allowing for pina to scurry off towards the dance floor.

"hi, oh wait, hola!" your accent was normally bad, but tonight, it was atrocious. alexia cracked a small smile at your accent. you returned it tenfold, absolutely beaming at her. "you are so beautiful. do you like my outfit? i wore it just for you."

"o-oh?" alexia questioned. her voice had cracked, something that you didn't miss, but chose to ignore. "you look very nice, but you shouldn't dress for other people. dress for you, i'd like any outfit you wore."

"that's not the point. i want you to take me home. i need to impress if you're gonna do that." you were slurring your words pretty badly, and alexia wondered how long you had been feeling like that. she wasn't going to get her answer though, not when you were whisked off towards the dance floor.

alexia didn't see you for nearly the entire night after that. you had been moving around enough to sober up quite a bit. alexia noticed that you didn't sway on your feet when you came over to where she was sitting. however, there was still just enough liquid courage for you to let alexia know that you wanted to dance with her.

"i think we should dance. you've been sitting here all night. even irene got up at least once." if it had been anybody else, alexia never would have even really considered moving. however, it was you, and unbeknownst to you, alexia had developed quite the soft spot for you.

at first, she told herself that she wanted to take care of you because you were younger than her and in a new country. however, much to alexia's annoyance, mapi pointed out several times that alexia's gazes towards you were never friendly. alexia thought that she was good at masking her feelings, but mapi was one of the few people in the world who could see right through her. it took a while, but alexia had finally admitted to herself, and an eerily excited mapi, her feelings for you.

"i'm not much of a dancer," alexia warned you. she had never been a good dancer, especially not sober. you weren't a professional or anything, but you were fairly decent in the scheme of things.

"it's fine, i'll take the lead." your words didn't exactly make alexia feel much better, but once the two of you were on the dance floor, she didn't do much thinking. you were just sober enough to know that this wasn't something that alexia normally would have agreed to so easily. you'd been around the team long enough to know that alexia rarely ever left the booth or table whenever the team went out.

"a-are you sure that this is okay?" alexia asked as you placed her hands on your waist. normally whenever you'd dance with the other girls, their hands were glued to your hips. it was a far less intimate hold, but your body craved a bit of intimacy, specifically from alexia.

"shh, don't think about it. just feel the music and move with me," you told her. it was fine for the first couple of songs, but then things slowed down dramatically. alexia's hands stayed right where you had placed them, but you weren't prepared to feel the press of her body against yours.

for someone who wasn't spanish, you were teased a lot for being touchy. it was always in good jest, and because of that, you often forgot how handsy your teammates could get. alexia was no exception, despite being the most reserved with her affections. you realized in that moment that alexia wasn't unaffectionate at all, she was just picky. tonight, it seemed that she had picked you.

"can i have one more dance?" alexia asked as she rested her chin against your shoulder. her face was partially buried in the side of your neck. alexia's breath tickled against your skin, something she couldn't have known would have you turning red in the face like it was. "please, i'm having fun with you. i don't want it to end just yet."

"i think i can handle one more." it was a total lie, but you didn't know it yet. the next song was more upbeat than the last, but alexia didn't move any further away from her. you could feel her hips press against your ass with each movement that she made. alexia was dancing with you like before, only closer now. it was reminscent of something that you hadn't experienced in quite some time.

alexia kept her hands around you even after the song had ended. the two of you made your way towards the booth, where several of your teammates were not sitting as well. alexia sat down first, and without hesitation, pulled you into her lap. they all quieted down at the sight of you, but neither you nor alexia missed the looks on their faces.

"problem?" alexia asked. her arm was snaked protectively around your waist, and as patri moved in closer, alexia's arm tightened. she had already been holding you tightly, but the addition of force managed to pull a squeak from you that unfortunately did not go unheard by anybody.

"the free show was nice, even if this isn't that kind of club," patri teased as she tapped on the tip of your nose. you swatted her hand away as you cursed at her in german. frido and ingrid's faces went red at your words, but they didn't let patri in on what you had said.

"what is that supposed to mean?" alexia asked.

"are you so oblivious that you don't see how turned on (y/n) is with her on your lap, capi? i mean, look at her. it's a shock that she's not squirming," cata pointed out. you grumbled as you tried to hide your hands. alexia looked at you questioningly, and when you refused to meet her gaze, she realized that there was a lot of truth to their words.

"you, uh… you… i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you… i mean…" alexia stumbled through her words unlike anything you had ever seen before. the girls at the table laughed at her, which made a bit of anger flare up inside of you.

"hey, it's okay. you didn't know," you said sweetly. alexia bit her lip as you turned in her lap and cupped her cheeks. "i asked you to dance with me. besides this isn't anything that won't pass eventually."

"aren't you embarrassed?" alexia asked. she looked really guilty, and you wanted to kiss the pout off of her lip.

"it's fine, ale. if you really feel bad, you can buy me breakfast or something tomorrow morning," you told her. alexia looked confused for a moment before the cheering and hollering of your teammates clued her in. with that, she quickly stood up and walked you out of the club and away from them. you both knew alexia wouldn't just sleep with you, but you were surprised when she let you come over and stay the night with her anyway.

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR★彡 PART 3

Previous. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes/language, tension

Summary: having Paige’s number means she can bother you whenever she wants, but maybe a night out with her isn’t a bother at all.

A/n: enjoy guys 😇lmk what you think of this one

YOU

is this paige?

???

Has anyone else given you their number since you got here?

YOU

no…

PAIGE

Aight, so who else would it be then? 🤘🏼

YOU

i should’ve thrown out that napkin tbh!🙂

PAIGE

Ignoring that. How’s the hangover?

YOU

it’s ok. getting coffee helped ig

PAIGE

Having another night out might help too…if u fw that

YOU

with you? id rather die then “fw that” 🙏

PAIGE

Ok rot in ya hotel room see if I care 🤷🏼‍♀️

Seen.

PAIGE

Actually nvm I feel bad for ur miserable ass. U shud fr go out and see what Connecticut has to offer. Ever been to Gianni’s?

YOU

no i haven’t, I’ve only been here for like two days. is it italian food?

PAIGE

Only the best in town 😉 u shud def go

YOU

ugh I would but i have to see if elaine can take me cus my teammates are busy

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

YOU

typing…

YOU CAN FEEL yourself getting socially drained as you text her, at least that’s what you tell yourself. Paige is infuriating and arrogant, which comes with the deadly additions of charisma and the ability to keep you on edge with every word spoken, or even typed.

You’d always known of this, even before your game with her that day. A player like Paige can be hard to come across; perfectly capable, talented and independent yet somehow the best team player out there, sharing passes she can without a doubt make. Why? Because she doesn’t need to prove anything.

It often bothered you, especially since you constantly needed to prove yourself during the start of your college career. You took every shot you could get your hands on, and she gave shots away like candy whilst still having a huge reputation as a player. Obviously it went deeper than that, but the simple fact just stuck to your brain.

You can’t help but recall her face, inches from yours attempting to pry your ball from your grasp. Like she was deserving, like it was hers for the taking. She had made a similar face on the panel where she dissed you soon afterwards, and then again while watching you at the bar, and just before writing her number on the napkin. You wondered if she was making that face right now as she texts you.

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

The text is simple but it summons some sort of unique feeling in you. Paige Bueckers is offering to pick you up in her car, on her night off, and take you to a restaurant. And you, for whatever reason, are considering saying yes.

Sighing to yourself, you weigh your options. Option one: you sit around your hotel alone till your teammates come back, most probably drunk from a bar since it’s a Saturday. Option two: you ask Elaine to take you out once again, even though you’re probably gonna see her the whole week you’re here. Option three: you let the girl who shit-talked you at a post game conference take you out for dinner.

YOU

i guess i should go out. DONT act like ur doing me a favour tho….n if I don’t have fun i’m blocking u.

PAIGE

Drop the addy. I’ll come by in an hour

Seen.

After hurriedly pulling yourself together, taking an Advil, checking out the restaurant’s Instagram and getting ready you can’t help but find your heart steadily hammering inside of you. Paige is coming to your hotel. You’re gonna be in her car. She’s taking you to her favourite restaurant. This has to be the most peculiar thing that has happened all year.

-

The car ride is significantly better then you expected it would be. Paige adamantly seems to prevent any room for awkward silence to seep through, commenting on your outfit and filling the vehicle with music that makes the interior buzz from the volume. She has a free look on her face, chair reclined more then you’d dare if you were in the drivers seat, hair blowing in her face from the windows being down.

“I’m surprised you’re driving me out.” You say, finally airing what was on your mind.

Paige shrugs. “Didn’t feel like drinking today. Plus, I’m in the mood to be generous and show you what Storrs has.”

“If someone told me I’d be hanging out with Paige Bueckers like a week ago, I think I’d be fucking appalled. Or disgusted. Or both.” You laugh.

She chuckles, glancing at you sneakily. “You swear a lot, don’t you?”

“Awe my bad.” You pout, giving her a fake-concerned look. “Forgot you can’t handle a little language.”

“I can handle it,” she grumbles. “I just think cursing is better for specific situations.”

“Like what?”

Paige wets her lips almost sheepishly, but she keeps her eyes straight on the road. “Like sex.”

A beat passes before you respond “Sorry I couldn’t savour a couple words for you and your little kink.”

She looks over at you now, and you meet her gaze as equally as you can. She just lets out a smile, shaking her head to herself as she pulls into the parking lot. You try to ignore the elevator-sinking feeling in your stomach from her words as you get out from the car.

The restaurant is beautiful. It’s cozy, ambient and well decorated. Not too fancy and not too full, just perfect. You’re seated in a more secluded area, per Paige’s request. She orders for you, insisting she knows exactly what to get for the best possible experience.

The food is good, and you don’t feel the need to hide it from Paige, who visibly grows at your praise for the place she picked out.

“So, are you jus in Connecticut for Elaine?” She says.

“Not really.” You reply. “Me and some of the others are just doing a little East Coast road-trip. I wasn’t really interested in coming to Storrs, but it made sense to come by and see her.”

“For a whole week?” She raises her eyebrow. “Seems like you’re close.”

“I was only gonna stay in Storrs for a couple days, then go to Hartford but the girls seem to like it here.” You shrug. “They think it’s cute, being a small town and all, but it’s pretty boring if you’re not a student.”

“It’s better if you’re with fun people.” She smiles.

“I hope you don’t think you’re fun.”

“Compared to Elaine I definitely am.” Paige scoffs.

You can’t help but feel a little more hostility than humour in her tone.

“Do you guys know each other?” You ask, as sly and innocent as you can muster. Paige seems hesitant.

“Nah.” She finally decides. “I mean, we’ve talked before. Ion know her personally.”

“It’s kinda funny, she said she doesn’t pay much attention to you but I think she might have a little crush.” You laugh.

Paige visibly stiffens at this, which catches you by surprise.

In a split second she regains her calm, unbothered composure. “What has she said?”

“Not much.” You shrug. “Just seems a little interested.”

Paige’s jaw clenches for a moment, and you’re not surprised when she changes the subject. “How many people have been on your case since I posted that picture of us from the bar on my story?”

“God, so many.” You laugh, shaking your head. “You?”

“You don’t even wanna know.” She scoffs. “Not sure why everyone was so crazy bout it though, s’not like we were beefing for real.”

“Right!” You say, happy she seems to be on the same page. “It was just some petty crap. I guess people just really were hoping there would be some rivalry.”

You think for a moment, before saying. “Maybe we should keep this drama thing up. Might be fun.”

“It’s a lil too late for that,” Paige shakes her head with a slight smile. “remember how KK and Ice were on live yesterday at the coffee shop? Yeah, we kinda were in the background at some point. People saw us talking.”

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious. There are edits and everything.”

You rest your head in your hands, elbows on the table, lessening the proximity between you and her. “I only get into these weird ass situations when I interact with you, Paige.”

She sits up in her seat, blue eyes quickly looking you up and down. “Yet you’re still here.”

“Girl’s gotta have fun.” You shrug. Her foot hits yours under the table, her eyebrow raised as if challenging you. You have a sudden thought of going under the table and letting your hands unzip her cargo pants, but instead you just kick her back.

“Wanna go?” She asks. You don’t want to go back to the hotel, and she seems to pick up on it. “The area we’re in is nice. We can walk around a bit.”

You smile and nod. “Split the bill?”

“Fuck no.” She shoots you a look, pulling out her credit card from the back of her phone.

“You cursed!” You exclaim, to which she scoffs.

“I said it’s alright in specific situations.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Well we’re not having sex, are we?”

The way her eyelashes flutter at your question gives you jitters. “Aight, stop talking.” She finally manages to respond. You just send her a look that you hope makes her nervous.

-

“You’re not funny.” She grumbles, attempting to grab your phone from you.

“Back off, Bueckers! I’m serious.” You laugh, sidestepping her with your phone above your head. The street was empty and the lights were on, putting the two of you in a yellow glow against the night. You’d been walking around the neighbourhood, observing houses and learning a bit about Storrs for the past hour.

“Give me your phone, I know you ain’t deleting those.” She huffs, grabbing for your phone. You try to escape her grasp but she’s got longer limbs, so eventually your phone is in her pocket and she’s wearing a proud look on her face.

It’s nice to walk in the quiet of evening, her beside you. You have no idea where you are but you can’t help but trust she can get you back to the car in no time. Not just yet though.

You turn to look at Paige almost shamelessly. There’s just so much to observe with her. Her confident posture, toothy smile, sleek straightened blonde hair, even the baggy cargo pants and sweater. She always looked good, it never failed to annoy you.

“Either your pants are too tight or crazy baggy.” You note. She just raises her eyebrow.

“Sounds like you just want me to take my pants off at this point.”

“Wouldn’t mind a little show.” You reply almost instantly, shocking yourself at the surge of confidence. She doesn’t seem taken aback, in fact she’s intrigued.

“Is that your usual routine? Have a meal out then have a meal at home?”

“Maybe it is.” You shrug. “I never object to a wine n dine.”

“And what exactly would you object to?”

“Cocky girls who think they’re the shit.” You say, turning your head to face her. You don’t mean to target her, but she simply smiles.

“Is it really being cocky if I can back it up though?” Paige asks quietly. You’re not walking anymore, stuck in place on an empty path between buildings. She’s closing in on you until your back hits a brick wall. The way Paige is staring down at you, hands in her pockets, lip between her teeth. It’s nothing you’d object to, ever.

“I won’t believe it till I see it.” You mutter, holding her eye. The air is tense in a new way that you haven’t felt with her since you first met in the bar. Her face is entrancing.

Paige’s hands lift your jaw upwards, and she leans into your ear. “You might not see it,” she mumbles, breath hot against your skin. “But you’ll definitely feel it.”

When she pulls back from your ear she stays hovering just above you, hands chastely holding your head up. You’re in the perfect position to kiss, and you can’t stop your eyes from darting between her electric stare to her lush, pink lips.

You can literally feel her breath on your mouth when a piercing ring cuts through the moment. It’s coming from her pocket, and she pulls out your phone. Paige’s face twists as she reads the screen. “It’s Elaine.”

“Just- just decline it.” You rush out, not caring how desperate you sound. You can feel how wet you are, and the lack of heat against you is blaring.

“She texted you too.” Paige scoffs. “She’s waiting for you at your hotel.”

You don’t even know what to say. Paige’s face is expressionless. You’re disappointed, but there’s no point in begging. Nothing really happened.

“Let’s get you home.” She says, starting to walk back from where you came. “Shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Her tone is dripping with toxicity. It makes you shiver.

[reiding-writing]

Congrats on 1000 followers! That's such a huge milestone! For the climacteric event, could you do a continuation of 'Takedown'? Maybe a role reversal, where cold!reader witnesses a badass moment from Spencer (whether his 'takedown' is physical or verbal is up to you) and gets flustered about it? I love your cold!reader series so much, it's such a great character dynamic with the rest of the cast!! Congrats again!

TAKEDOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˈteɪkˌdaʊn/ /part one/

Spencer might be a know-it-all, but at least he actually knows the things that he talks about.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, just some guy being really obnoxious and annoying, mild mansplaining

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff || 2.4k || event masterlist!!

a/n: we’re gonna ignore i uploaded this prematurely and just focus on the fic thanks 😭🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

this is a continuation of my original ’takedown’ fic for cold!reader with a role reversal!

Spencer wouldn’t say that he liked to ‘show off’.

He knew he was smarter than most people, and his teammates knew he was smarter than most people, and that meant that when he displayed his intelligence to provide important details about a case, the team would take his word for it.

It saved a lot of time in explanations for where he got his information from and allowed for profiles to be built at twice the speed.

But sometimes asking someone to quote a source was necessary.

Case in point, a police detective from Indiana who just would not leave the BAU team alone as they tried to curate a profile for the serial killer they were hunting.

Some of his muses, most definitely flukes in knowledge, actually did have a productive outcome.

“A majority of stabbing cases have an underlying sexual motive, so I’ve taken the liberty of looking into the sex-offences registry for anyone who could be our killer,”

And some…

“Have we considered the possibility that our killer is actually killers, I mean if you look at the stab patterns across the victims, there’s a clear dominant and submissive personality no?”

…were the exact opposite.

“What you’re seeing is a progression of the unsub’s confidence,” Spencer shook his head slightly at the detectives attempt at an explanation. “The slashes are only jagged and uncertain in the two first victims, with all of the victims after that displaying much more confident wounds, which clearly shows the evolution of one individual, not multiple,”

He didn’t like having to shut other people’s trains of thought down, it was something that he’d gone through enough to not want to put anyone else through it, but when they were the complete opposite of productive, sometimes it was for the best.

It was remarkably easy to tell when somebody had read something on the internet rather than actually going through the training required to be competent in a certain specialty. Especially when it came to the forensic side of things.

Throwing in key words like dominant and submissive personalities didn’t mean that he knew what he was on about. It just meant that he’d read a few case articles on a certain subject and then passed that off as a rounded understanding of whatever concept he was trying to explain.

And it was really frustrating.

“What’s wrong with you today?” You enter the put aside meeting room with narrowed eyes, a cup of takeout coffee in your hand that serves as a relic of you being able to escape from the hellhole that Spencer was inherently trapped in.

“It’s nothing, i’m alright,” He presses his lips into that awkward smile of his, but it lacks any of the genuity that it’s usually accompanied by, merely a shell of a smile that Spencer knows you’re not buying.

A quirk of your eyebrow is the only push needed for his façade to break immediately.

“It’s just—” Spencer exhales heavily through his nose, biting the inside of his mouth in a will for him to keep himself together. “I’m just frustrated.”

You gesture with your head for him to continue, and it’s like you’ve blown a hole in a dam with how fast everything comes tumbling out.

“Officer Harrison keeps interrupting the investigation and talking about absolute nonsense under the guise of it being objective fact and I’ve spent so long correcting him that I haven’t actually managed to do anything,” He gets it all out in a single breath, and it’s honestly quite impressive to watch until he’s caught at the end with barely any air left in his lungs and has to take a moment to catch it up.

“I just wish he would leave me alone,”

You haven’t met Officer Harrison, too busy with the coroner and taking interviews, but if you had to make an educated guess you’d say Spencer’s apparent frustration was well founded.

He wasn’t one to exaggerate things.

“Tell him to then,” You shrug out your answer like it’s easy, leaning your lower back against the table to sip at your coffee.

“I’m not like you,” Spencer sighs exasperatedly, his shoulders in a slump alongside his mind. “I can’t just— scare people off,”

You give a small quirk of your eyebrow at his assessment of your personality, and Spencer can see the small traces of amusement in the corners of your mouth. “You have the authority Reid, you outrank him tenfold,”

“I know, I just—” Spencer shrugs, defeated. “I don’t know, I just can��t,” He uncaps his marker to return to the barren whiteboard to try and actually get some decent headway on the profile with a solemn expression, submitting himself to the inevitability of having to do two jobs at once.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Your offer sounds almost like an assassination proposal, monotonous and almost too serious.

“No,” Spencer shakes his head lightly. “No it’s alright, it’s not your problem, I’ll be okay,”

“You’e sure?”

“Yeah,” He gives you a small nod over his shoulder, lips pressed into a line as a grateful but dismissive smile. “Thanks anyway,”

You push yourself from the table with a sigh, joining Spencer at his side to pull the marker from his hand.

“Wh—“

“Go make yourself a coffee Reid.” You cap the marker with a knowing tilt of your head, putting it away in your back pocket so he can’t try and take it back from you. “You need to take five and calm down, you aren’t going to get anything done like this,”

You can see the want to turn your idea down, to say that he’s fine and not affected by the officer in his expression, but you both know it’s not something to be acted on, and so gives you a small nod with an exasperated exhale as he drags himself out of the meeting room to do as you’d asked.

He’s grateful for it really, the warm ceramic under his hands serving as a grounding point and sickly sweetness of the drink as it reaches his taste-buds a welcome distraction from the rampant frustration inhabiting his prefrontal cortex, but that small voice in the back of his head continues to torment him about the inevitability of having to deal with the officer again and all of th

He knows he should at least try to let it go over his head. If he stepped back into the meeting room like he was you probably wouldn’t even let him get one foot in the door before sending him on a longer break, but he didn’t want a break, he wanted to work, to crack this profile open and actually make some real headway.

He just needed to take a second to breathe.

When he does return to the meeting room, you’re not alone anymore, and Spencer can practically feel the amount of will power you’re using to keep your mouth shut as Officer Harrison rambles on about something he’s not quite close enough to hear yet.

“…very unlikely for that to actually happen,” The officer points to a section of scrawl you’d added to the whiteboard after Spencer’s departure, something about brief episodes of mania as a possible reason behind the unsub’s violent attacks.

“That’s not actually true, it’s been disproved dozens of times over,” You shake off his attempt at over-explaining your own theory to you with a full tone and a shake of your head, a clear indication for him to leave you alone.

He doesn’t of course, and Spencer swears he sees your eye twitch as Officer Harrison continues to talk aimlessly.

“I’m just saying, there’s research to support the idea that serial killers make their crimes more gruesome than they need to post-mortem so they can plead insanity in court if they’re caught,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, and you quirk your eyebrow at his explanation.

“And where did you get that information from?”

“A doctorate thesis paper from Stanford,” Officer Harrison crosses his arms like he’s secured a victory over you in knowing something that an expert doesn’t. “You’ve probably never read it, it was an investigation into the differences between legal and clinical insanity, and it concluded that serial murderers over gruesomise their kills to plead legal insanity in court despite being completely sound of mind,” He points back at your scribbling with his index finger, knocking his knuckle against the board. “So this theory isn’t worth looking into sweetheart, trust me,”

The use of the placeholder ‘pet’ name makes your eyebrows furrow until there’s a prominent frown line between them. “I have read that paper, for your information,” You spin the whiteboard marker between the fingers of your left hand, likely a way to expel some of the tension in your muscles as you grow increasingly frustrated with the man.

“You don’t have to lie sweetheart, it’s alright, no one’s expecting you to have read an 85,000 word paper from almost a decade ago, I just like to educate myself in my free time,” He shrugs with a nonchalant expression, but there are traces of what’s almost condescendion in his tone and Spencer decides it’s time to stop this little debate before Officer Harrison ends up with a broken nose and you end up getting a very long talk from Hotch.

“She wrote it,” Spencer presses his lips into a tight line as he walks around the table to join you at the whiteboard.

“Excuse me?” The officer blinks at Spencer blankly, eyebrows knitting together in a mix of confusion and a slight amount of irritation at Spencer’s intrusion.

“The thesis paper you’re talking about? She was the one who wrote it,” He nods his head in your direction, and he can physically see the way the officer’s air of intellectual superiority drains from his face.

“And I’m not actually convinced that you’ve read the whole thing yourself, everything you mentioned was part of the paper’s abstract, which at an average reading speed of 238 words per minute, should have only taken you a minute and 24 seconds to read, rather than the 5 hours and 54 minutes to read the whole thing,” Spencer feels a little guilty for how good the drop in Officer Harrison’s face makes him feel, but it’s easily overrun by inherent relief at getting the frustration off his chest.

“Can you name anything important from that paper apart from what you just mentioned? Anything at all?” The frustration underlying Spencer’s tone was obvious, and it was almost gratifying for you to watch him take a stand in his own beliefs for once.

There’s a few moments where he pauses, giving Officer Harrison the very slim opportunity to redeem himself and prove he had actually read through the whole document.

Neither of you needed to watch him try and stumble through his answer to know that he didn’t.

“Maybe if you had read it you’d know that the ‘fact’ you just mentioned, was proportional to the percentage of serial murderers that weren’t diagnosed with any mental illness prior to their arrest, which was only 63% of the total sample that was analysed. 114 of the murderers were actually diagnosed with some form of clinical psychosis, which is still entirely probable for the unsub that we’re looking for,” There’s a lingering trace of snark dousing Spencer’s tone, joined by an elevated sense of conviction as he narrows his eyes towards Officer Harrison. “Or maybe you’d at least remember that it was actually 97,502 words long, not 85,000,”

The fact that Spencer recalled such specific details of your thesis shouldn’t be a shock to you, his eidetic memory was practically a staple of his character after all, but considering you weren’t even aware he’d read it in the first place until five minutes ago made that revelation hit you just a little harder than it probably should.

“If you want to act like an expert in something, become an expert in something,” Spencer crosses his arms and it may as well have been a done deal. “Don’t pass off surface level, incorrect information as objective fact, all you’re doing is slowing the real experts down,”

The assertiveness in his tone, whilst occasionally used when arguing his point for a specific topic, was much more present as he shut down the Officer, and it was almost a little too gratifying to watch the wind get knocked out of his sails at Spencer’s reprimand.

“Now if you’d please excuse us, we have a profile to work on,” He gestures to the whiteboard with his head, and Officer Harrison is off like a whippet, retreating out of the room with his tail between his legs and a traffic light red coating his face from the embarrassment.

You give a dragged out whistle as the door closes. “Congratulations on telling him to leave you alone,”

Spencer laughs almost pathetically. Was he really so socially inept that he had to be congratulated on standing up for himself?

“Thanks,” He presses his lips into that typical Spencer smile as he fiddles aimlessly with the button on the cuff of his right sleeve. “And uh, thanks for letting me handle it on my own,”

You shrug nonchalantly. “You asked me to,”

“I know, I just— thank you,”

“It’s nothing to thank me for Reid,” You shake your head dismissively, but Spencer knows you’ve accepted his thanks through the slight quirk in the corners of your mouth that break the ever-present scowl that cements itself on your face. “I didn’t know you read my thesis,”

Spencer blinks for a moment before giving you a small and enthusiastic nod. “Three times actually, it’s extremely well written from a logical perspective, and the transcripts from the interviews you held were very interesting,”

And there’s the Spencer you knew.

“You’re an incredible psychologist, it’s no wonder you skipped your bachelors,” He emphasises his words with exaggerated head movements that make the curls of his hair bounce against his forehead.

“Thank you, Reid, that’s very sweet,” There’s a fondness to your voice that you’d deny if he pointed out, but you’re trying much less to hide it from Spencer than you would from anyone else in your team.

Spencer Reid had read your thesis three times. You wouldn’t be surprised if he knew it better than you did. You’re almost certain he knew it better than you did. He could probably recite the whole thing word for word where chunks of it had already been forgotten in your mind.

It wasn’t exactly something revolutionary, but it may as well have been.

[thef1diary]

Love Unwrapped | L. Norris

Summary: after mutually breaking up, you and Lando drifted apart. However, on your birthday, Lando shows up unexpectedly with a gift, reigniting old feelings.

— part of the Birthday Bash fics

warnings: angst if you squint, fluff.

pairing: lando x fem!ex!reader

wc: 1.6k

main masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

As you sit alone in your cozy apartment, the soft glow of the moonlight casting dancing shadows on the walls, you can't help but feel a twinge of loneliness. It's your birthday, but this year feels different somehow—empty, without the usual excitement and celebration.

Just as you resign yourself to a quiet night in, there's a sudden knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts. Surprised, you glance at the clock. Who could it be at this hour?

Opening the door reveals a familiar figure standing on your doorstep, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's Lando, holding a small gift bag in his hand and a larger bag in the other.

"Hey," he says, his voice warm yet tentative. "Happy birthday."

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. "Lando? You remembered?"

He chuckles softly, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Of course I did. I just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. Mind if I come in?"

You step aside, allowing him entry into your humble abode. "Of course, come on in."

As Lando enters, you can't help but notice the subtle changes in his appearance—the confidence in his posture, the newfound ease in his smile. It's as if he's grown in the time since you last saw him, even if it was just one month ago.

"Take a seat," you offer, gesturing towards the couch. "Can I get you anything? Tea, maybe?"

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, thanks. I'm good."

You both settle onto the couch, the awkward silence hanging between you like a thick fog. It feels like it's been so long since you've been alone together like this, and the unfamiliarity of the situation is palpable.

"So, um, how have you been?" Lando finally breaks the silence, his voice hesitant.

You sigh, a mixture of relief and sadness flooding through you. "I've been okay, I guess. Just trying to keep busy with work and stuff. How about you?"

He nods, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, same here. Work's been keeping me pretty occupied."

You nod but hold back on mentioning that you have been following his season in Formula One, watching every race despite the ungodly hours it required you to wake up at.

The conversation falls into a comfortable rhythm as you catch up on each other's lives, sharing stories and laughter like old times. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there's a sense of familiarity between you that refuses to fade.

Suddenly, Lando reaches into the gift bag and pulls out a neatly wrapped box, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh, got you something."

Your eyes widen in surprise as he hands you the gift. "You didn't have to," you mumble, aching to tell him that his presence was enough.

"Open it."

With trembling hands, you carefully unwrap the gift, your heart pounding in anticipation. When you finally open the box, you're met with the sight of something you've always wanted—beautiful dainty necklace adorned with smaller diamonds, one that you'd admired countless times in the store but could never bring yourself to buy.

You've been saving up for this dainty piece for a while, but never expected that Lando would give it to you as a gift.

You're speechless, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. Lando watches you anxiously, waiting for your reaction.

Finally, you manage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, this is... It's amazing, thank you.”

He smiles warmly at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can't quite place. "I saw you staring at it at the store a while back, so I thought this would be the right moment to get it for you."

You're overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, by the fact that he remembered something so small yet meaningful. It's a reminder of why you fell for him in the first place.

"You know," Lando begins, his voice soft but filled with sincerity, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately... about us."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, uncertainty mingling with anticipation in the air between you. "Oh? What about us?"

He shifts slightly on the couch, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I miss what we had," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken longing. "The late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the way we just... fit together."

You swallow hard, the memories of your time together flooding back with startling clarity. "I miss those things too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando reaches out, his hand finding yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign. "I know we said we'd remain friends," he says, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand, "but... I can't shake the feeling that there's still something between us. Something worth fighting for."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and uncertainty. For a moment, neither of you knows what to say, the silence stretching on uncomfortably.

He wasn't wrong, you had parted as a couple but still promised to remain friends. That promise was left unfulfilled because of your different lives taking you on different paths. It was the reason why you had broken up in the first place.

Then, you gather your courage, meeting his gaze with determination. "I feel it too," you confess, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "But... I'm scared, Lando. Scared of our love not being enough for each other again."

Lando nods in understanding, his eyes filled with empathy as he squeezes your hand gently. "I know," he murmurs. "But maybe... maybe we can take things slow this time. See where it leads us."

The idea fills you with both excitement and trepidation, the prospect of rekindling your relationship mingling with the fear of repeating past events. But as you sit there together, the warmth of his hand in yours, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things will be different.

As the night wears on, the comforting embrace of conversation wraps around you and Lando like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had lingered in the air.

The soft flicker of birthday candles illuminates the room as he holds the cake for you, waiting for you to make a wish and blow it out.

You look at him before closing your eyes, already knowing what you want to wish for before blowing out the few lit candles in one quick breath.

You say, "I can't believe you got me a cake," as you cut into the rich chocolate cake and give him a slice on a plate before taking one for yourself.

Lando chuckles, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Of course I did. After all, what's a birthday without cake?"

You smile, the sweetness of the gesture warming your heart. "It's delicious. Thank you, Lan." The nickname easily slips from your tongue, as if you never stopped saying it, and his heart warms knowing the feeling of familiarity never died down.

As you continue to talk and laugh, the clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to midnight, marking the end of your birthday. But for now, in the glow of moonlight and the warmth of Lando's company, time seems to stand still.

Eventually, the inevitable moment arrives when Lando has to leave. You walk him to the door, the weight of the conversation earlier hanging heavy in the air between you.

Lando turns to face you, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "I don't want to rush things," he begins, his voice soft but determined, "but I also don't want to let this chance slip away."

You nod, meeting his gaze with hope, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "I don't either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle smile, Lando reaches out and cups your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. His thumb brushes against your lips, feeling the softness he desperately wants to feel against his own lips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice still soft in fear of ruining the moment. Placing your palm on his cheek, you nod.

Without wasting another moment, he closes the gap between you, placing his lips on yours.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you standing there in the middle of your apartment, joined by the shimmering moonlight. As you fall back into the familiarity of his lips on yours, you realize that this is where you belong—here, in Lando's arms.

It's a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a kiss that speaks of new beginnings and endless love.

When you finally pull away, your heart is pounding in your chest, the warmth of Lando's lips lingering on yours like a sweet memory.

"I'll give you some space to think about it," he says, his thumb brushing against your skin in a tender caress. "But just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready.”

You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. But as you watch him leave your apartment, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips—a smile filled with hope for the future, and the possibility of love rekindled.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @megudaeggu @c-losur3 @oliviah-25 @regalbanshee

[nayziiz]

It's Rough | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Lando watched with a mix of amusement and frustration as she attempted to grasp the basics of golf. Despite her proficiency in various other activities like water sports, skiing, and driving, golf seemed to elude her completely. He had hoped that her natural athleticism and coordination would translate well onto the golf course, but it appeared that golf was a different beast altogether.

Her swings were awkward and uncoordinated, sending the ball veering off in unpredictable directions. Lando patiently offered guidance, demonstrating proper technique and providing words of encouragement, but it seemed as though golf just didn't click for her.

Despite her struggles, she approached each swing with determination, refusing to let her initial failures dampen her spirits. With each missed shot, she laughed off her mistakes and eagerly lined up for another attempt, determined to conquer the elusive sport.

Lando had known from the moment she insisted on tagging along to the golf course that her declaration of merely watching and cheering was likely wishful thinking. Despite her assurances, he could practically see the curiosity and determination dancing behind her eyes, ready to pounce at any opportunity to join in on the action.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to deny her the chance to be a part of the day. He understood that her company would bring a different energy to the outing, even if it meant potentially disrupting the boys' dynamic on the course. Besides, the thought of her sulking at home while he enjoyed a day with his friends was far less appealing than dealing with the inevitable consequences of her joining in on the golfing shenanigans.

So, with a resigned sigh and a knowing smile, Lando agreed to let her come along, silently preparing himself for the whirlwind of chaos that often accompanied her presence. Deep down, he knew that her insistence on joining them stemmed from a desire to spend time with him, even if it meant enduring a sport she clearly had no interest in.

As they arrived at the golf course, Lando braced himself for whatever antics she had in store.

As Lando focused on his swing, he couldn't help but be distracted by her restlessness. He noticed her initially staying put behind the steering wheel of the golf cart, as promised, but her impatience soon got the better of her. With a hint of amusement, he watched as she hopped out of the cart and began to circle it, her movements fluid and graceful.

Caught off guard by the sight of her, Lando found himself momentarily forgetting about the game at hand. His gaze followed her as she moved around the cart, her skirt swaying gently with each step, revealing glimpses of her smooth, tanned skin. He couldn't deny the allure she exuded, even in such a mundane setting as a golf course.

Despite his best efforts to maintain his focus on the game, her presence proved to be a delightful distraction. He couldn't help but admire her beauty and the effortless confidence with which she carried herself, even in a sport she had no interest in.

As she circled the cart, a playful smile danced on her lips, and Lando felt a surge of affection for her. Despite her initial reluctance to join them on the course, he couldn't deny that her presence added an undeniable charm to their day. And as he watched her, he silently thanked whatever force had convinced her to come along, knowing that moments like these were what made their time together truly special.

“Hey, come on. Focus, man,” Carlos moaned quietly, making sure no one else could hear him.

Carlos's whispered admonition brought Lando back to reality, reminding him of the game at hand. He chuckled softly at Carlos's remark, acknowledging the truth in his friend's words.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lando replied, shaking his head slightly. “But can you blame me? She's something else.”

Carlos rolled his eyes playfully, understanding Lando's sentiment all too well. Lando made a concerted effort to refocus his attention on the game. Despite the temptation to steal glances at her, he knew that winning the game required his full concentration. With a renewed sense of determination, he squared his shoulders and prepared to take his next shot, determined to put aside any distractions and give it his all. As the game continued, Lando found himself occasionally sneaking glances in her direction, unable to resist the magnetic pull she seemed to have on him.

As the afternoon progressed and the rounds of golf continued, she found herself drawn into the conversation among the boys. Standing in between them, she listened intently to their banter and jokes, occasionally chiming in with her own witty remarks.

Before she knew it, a few of the boys had handed her their clubs, entrusting her with the task of holding them as they prepared for their shots. At first, she accepted the clubs with a bemused smile, unsure of what to do with them. But as the afternoon wore on, she found herself inadvertently assuming the role of their caddy, carrying their clubs from hole to hole with ease.

Despite her initial reluctance to participate in the game, she quickly embraced her new role with enthusiasm, eagerly offering advice and encouragement to the boys as they navigated the course. With each swing of the club, she cheered them on, her enthusiasm infectious as they worked together as a team to conquer the challenges of the course.

“How about you give it a try?” Alex's encouragement rang out across the green, much to Lando's dismay.

He watched with a mixture of apprehension and amusement as she smirked and accepted the club from Alex's outstretched hand. With a playful glint in her eye, she positioned herself on the grass, mimicking the stance Lando had patiently demonstrated to her numerous times before.

“Come on, you've got this,” Alex cheered, egging her on as she prepared to take her shot. Lando couldn't help but sigh, his expression a mixture of resignation and nervousness.

“Please, do not embarrass me,” Lando pleaded half-jokingly, knowing full well that her unpredictable nature often led to unexpected outcomes.

Her playful gasp of mock hurt elicited chuckles from the boys, but she quickly shifted her focus back to the task at hand. With a determined expression, she squared her shoulders and prepared to take her shot, eager to redeem her reputation.

But as she swung the club, it was immediately evident that this attempt wouldn't be as successful as she intended. With a wild and uncoordinated motion, she missed the ball entirely, the club swishing through the air with a whooshing sound. A chorus of groans and laughter erupted from the boys, their amusement mingled with sympathy for her failed attempt.

Lando, unable to bear the sight of her struggling any longer, groaned in pain as he moved to take the club away from her.

“Hang on. You all got time to warm up, how about you let me give it another shot?” she insisted.

Her insistence caught the attention of the group, prompting them to pause and exchange curious glances. Lando, his expression a mixture of defeat and resignation, reluctantly stepped away, giving her the space she needed to make another attempt.

With a determined gleam in her eye, she positioned herself once again, her grip on the club steady as she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ignoring the teasing remarks and sceptical looks from the boys, she focused all her attention on the ball before her, blocking out any distractions.

And then, with a swift and controlled motion, she swung the club, the sound of impact resonating through the air as the club connected with the ball. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they watched in disbelief, their eyes glued to the ball as it soared through the air with precision and grace.

Their disbelief turned to astonishment as the ball arced gracefully over the green, heading straight for the hole with unerring accuracy. Cheers erupted from the group as they watched in awe, unable to believe their eyes as the ball came to rest just inches from the hole.

“Wow, that was great!” Alex exclaimed with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Must be luck. Try again,” Max insisted, challenging her more than Lando would have liked.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

Encouraged by Alex's praise and challenged by Max's insistence, she couldn't resist the opportunity to prove herself once more. With a confident smile, she accepted the dare, her competitive spirit reignited as she prepared to take another shot.

Positioning herself with precision, she focused intently on the ball before her, blocking out any distractions as she visualised her next move. With a deep breath, she swung the club with determination, her movements fluid and controlled.

This time, luck seemed to be on her side once again as the ball sailed through the air, following a perfect trajectory towards the hole. The group watched in anticipation, holding their breath as the ball approached its target.

And then, with a satisfying thud, the ball landed on the green, rolling steadily towards the hole before coming to a stop just inches away. Cheers erupted from the group as they celebrated her impressive shot, their disbelief mingled with admiration at her uncanny skill.

“Please tell Lily she's a wonderful instructor,” she remarked to Alex, her tone laced with a hint of mischief as she acknowledged the guidance she had received. Alex chuckled in response, a knowing gleam in his eye as he nodded in agreement.

After her impressive display on the green, she couldn't resist a moment of playful triumph. With a smug smile directed at Lando, she returned to the golf cart, her steps light with the weight of her accomplishment. Lando, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, watched her with a mixture of disbelief and begrudging admiration.

As she settled back into her seat on the golf cart, she couldn't resist shooting Lando a smug grin, revelling in the satisfaction of having proven him wrong. Despite his initial scepticism, she had managed to exceed his expectations, leaving him shaking his head in disbelief.

Lando, for his part, could only shake his head in response, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that she had just hit the ball perfectly not once, but twice in a row. It was a feat that seemed almost too improbable to believe, yet there she was, the evidence of her success undeniable.

As they continued their game, Lando couldn't shake the feeling of astonishment that lingered in the air. Despite his doubts, she had managed to defy expectations and leave her mark on the golf course in more ways than one.

As they made their way towards Lando's McLaren, he couldn't help but be curious about her sudden improvement on the golf course. With a lighthearted tone, he broached the topic, unable to resist a teasing remark.

“So, Lily's been helping you, huh?” he asked, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he glanced in her direction. She chuckled in response, the memory of her recent success still fresh in her mind.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted with a wink, her tone tinged with amusement. Lando raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, feigning disbelief at her confession.

“I see how it is,” he teased, a hint of mock indignation in his voice. “Getting private lessons behind my back?”

She laughed at his exaggerated reaction, shaking her head in amusement.

“Nothing like that,” she reassured him, her smile warm and genuine. “Surprisingly enough, it just took a bit of patience to teach me.”

“Are you saying I have no patience?” he countered, his tone tinged with offence as he feigned hurt.

“None whatsoever,” she replied with a grin, her amusement evident in her voice as she teased him gently.

Despite his protests, she knew that his patience had been tested more than once during their golfing adventure. she couldn't help but notice a hint of disappointment in Lando's expression. His competitive nature was undeniable, and the idea of her newfound golfing skills seemed to sting his pride just a little.

“How much does it hurt knowing your girlfriend can now golf?” she teased, her tone teasing yet affectionate as she gently prodded at his ego.

Lando's response was a playful groan, his lips curling into a rueful smile as he shook his head in mock resignation. Deep down, she knew that he was secretly proud of her achievement, even if it meant enduring a few jokes at his expense.

“It doesn't hurt, but it sucks that you're better at it than me now,” he admitted, his tone a mixture of resignation and playful competitiveness. With a soft chuckle, she gently pressed him against the car, her body close to his as she looked up at him with a knowing smile.

“Baby, when will you learn?” she teased, her voice low and seductive as she leaned in closer. “I'm good at a lot of things.”

As she spoke, she subtly shifted her leg between his, a teasing reminder of her many talents and abilities. Lando couldn't help but laugh at her playful confidence, his own competitive spirit momentarily forgotten in the warmth of her presence.

“I know. So, when we get home, you can put your mouth to good use,” he argued, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in to kiss her.

She couldn't help but chuckle at his boldness, her laughter mingling with the warmth of his lips against hers.

“Disgusting,” she screeched in mock indignation, her hand playfully slapping his chest as she pushed him away with feigned reluctance.

Despite her protestations, there was a playful gleam in her eye, a hint of anticipation as she met his gaze with a knowing smile.

“But, with pleasure,” she added with a wink, her tone teasing yet affectionate as she leaned in to return his kiss.

As their lips met once more, they shared a moment of quiet intimacy, their playful banter giving way to the warmth of their affection for one another. And as they finally pulled away, their laughter echoed through the air, a reminder of the love and joy that filled their lives together.

[ofstardustanddreaming]

need your touch

preference summary: you're touch starved and what their reactions are.

content warnings: none

fandom: baldur's gate 3

characters: astarion, gale, wyll, halsin

gender neutral reader

anon request

Astarion: He's pretty touchy through the relationship. He prefers to initiate touch, but once he sees that you're leaning into his touch a little more than the average person would, he realizes that you might have been starved for affection. His heart breaks, knowing what it's like in a sense. He craves touch where he can consent to it, he's also been denied the touch that comes from loving hands, where it's not against his will. So, with you, he's able to start his journey of healing, being able to bring about touch for you, and you giving touch back that he wants. It's refreshing for him, but he also aims to make sure you're also given the attention you crave. He wants to see you happy, and you're the first he cares for in a long time. He will always have you pulled into his side, his touches always fleeting when you're in public. He's always taking his touch from your back to your arm, and eventually to hold your hand. He also really loves cuddling you at night, fully taking in your tiny shivers when you get the touches you so crave.

Gale: You do have to mention your starvation to him, and ask for the attention, because while he may notice it, he never wants to feel like he's giving you too much. He can't bare to hear that he's doing too much and having to dial it back. But Gale is one of the most cuddly people to grant your wishes for touch. When he finds out that you're starved for touch, he's wrapping himself around you like a koala. You barely get the question out of asking him to be a little more touchy with you, and he grants it. You're happy, I mean at this point, you don't have to ask for touch. If anything, you'd have to ask him to lessen his touch. But he's touch starved himself, and I definitely think his number one love language is physical touch. He always has one hand on you constantly, and it's definitely subconscious. He loves PDA, wanting to make sure everyone knew you were together. You'll never feel starved for affection again with Gale, he ensures that you're always wrapped in his embrace.

Wyll: He's very subtle with his touch, but it's always there when he reaches out for you. He notices your touch starvation, you never have to bring it up. Of course there's a deep conversation about it at some point, but you never have to outright ask him for more touch at any point. He's always there, grabbing your hand and kissing the palm, being very romantic with any touch he gives you. He'll hold your hand after kissing it, after spinning you around, pulling you as close as you could get to him. He kisses you all over the face, making sure no part of you went unmissed with kisses. He always makes sure you're pressed against him in some form or another, he's definitely a romantic at heart with his touches. They're always followed by some sort of words of affirmation as well, he really gets a kick out of seeing you flustered with the combo. But he really loves doting on you, ensuring his hand is always somewhere on your body, really just craving seeing you lean into his touch, never wanting to see you starved again.

Halsin: Oh Halsin, he very much makes sure that you're going to experience his touch whenever it's wanted by you. He notices your awkward attempts at getting more touch, and he asks you about it. He doesn't judge, in fact, it means he amps up his showering you in love through physical touch. He loves holding you close, especially when it comes to sleep. He leans a pretty decent amount of weight on you, a warm weighted blanket is what he felt like. He's really skilled at bear hugs, always pulling you in tight and pulling you slightly off the ground. He will always give you small kisses throughout the day, always trying to give you some sort of small embrace with it. He's the type to always have arms around you if everyone is idle for the night at camp, never one to shy away from PDA. He pulls you down on top of him near his tent, keeping a warm grip on you. He loves to nuzzle his head into your neck, really trying to put as much weight on you, knowing that kind of touch can be comforting.

[twisted-king]

Hi! Hello! I was wondering if you wrote any platonic hecs in twst? If you do, can you write gn!mc always finding a away to mention/talk about her home world? Maybe add a little bit of homesickness for angst👀.

Platonic hcs with the first years pls:>

Btw I really love you writing style!♡

AAAA oh my gosh thank you so much! I have no idea what im really doing aha...

Absolutely!!! here's a key:

Epel Ace Deuce Sebek Jack You

First year friend group + Reader who talks about home

They love you

they REALLY do

But this is excessive.

"Back at the farm we used to drink hot cider after a long day out in the snow, actually one time we-" "Heh.. like how my mom and I used to..." "Used to what?" "Oh its nothing... Just a tradition. We'd get together every Tuesday and go for bubble tea" "Oh..."

Epel understands feeling far from home, and he wants to try and relate with you but he doesn't know about half the stuff you're saying.

"hahah I got a higher score than you this time. Mayeb you shoulda studied a bit harder like lil ol me~" "Shut up Ace! It's a difference of like... two points!" "Two more points than you!" "oh you-" "My friends and I used to compare scores all the time, she always asked for help studying but.. haha she always got better grades than me."

They feel SO awkward when this happens

Deuce almost feels like he's showing off in some kind of way. He wants to be an honor student AND a good friend to you, so he's trying to creatre new memories with you, he's just having some trouble.

"Hey! I uh- I learned out to make one of Trey's tart! The one from the unbirthday party you liked so much?" "Oh thank you Deuce! It's kind of funny actually-" oh no,,, "My sibling and I used to bake for each other to say sorry."

Ace on the other hand is curious, but he kind of wishes you could be with the group sometimes.

"And then Lucius was like-- On top of Deuce- get this- while he was STILL sleeping" "No way..!" "Seriously?" "Hah- how pathetic, I NEVER fall asleep in Trein's... admittedly dull, lessons." "I used to have a dog, he could sleep anywhere"

And suddenly, it's quiet again...

Jack tries to keep your mind off things

He takes you out on relatively silent runs, he invites you to track meets, you can join or just watch him and Deuce! You've been looking a little down recently so, this makes sens to Jack, Deuce enjoys having you watch him run too, his friends give him extra motivation to beat his last personal best!

But... now you're crying?

Ohnowhatdoido.jpeg

Ace, Epel, and Sebek are on their way too, they wanted to do something nice for you and suprise you and -oh no...

They drop everything.

Your friends rush toward you, maybe you're hurt? you like... NEVER cry around them.

And suprisingly, Sebek can get you through the worst of it

"You're sad. and far from home. and that is hard. Especially for a pu ny huma-" "Sebek!!" "Right, uh... But we are here with you now. And we care for you."

"You're our best friend, I don't think anyone would be 'round here if it weren't for you."

"I don't feel as alone, riding solo just... wasnt it."

"'Sides, class isnt nearly as fun without you in it?"

"We really care about you, Prefect. You're our friend."

They gather around you, peacefully letting you cry after they let you know how muhc you mean to them.

"I just... I miss home so much..!"

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Cooper realizing he's falling in love with his companion would be so weird for both of them.

I imagine it would be a long, awkward, painful (at least for Coop) road dotted with increasingly significant gestures, increasingly intimate moments...but there would also have to be a sort of "healing" from the way things have been so far.

I mean, he's only stayed alive this long by being ruthless, selfish, doing whatever he needed to do to look out for number one. Falling in love with someone, caring about them, fucks that M.O. up pretty badly.

If he wants you to stick around, he has to show you he can treat you well. We know that he loves so passionately and deeply when he does, that he has the capacity for it. But, at the same time, it's so difficult for him to be vulnerable enough to show that kind of tenderness to someone again. He's confident in himself when it comes to most things, but this is fairly uncharted territory. He's not even sure he fully remembers how to romance a lady.

He never sleeps, so he always sits up keeping watch overnight. You wake up one morning to find that he's cleaned your guns, sharpened your knives while you slept. Soon, that becomes a regular occurrence. Another morning, after a particularly cool night in the desert, you find that his duster is draped over you. Low-pressure gestures like this, ones he can perform when you aren't watching, are the easiest for him at first. You always thank him for these things, but for a long while you fail to truly realize their significance. As far as you're concerned, he's just demonstrating that he finds you tolerable, which is better than he's acted towards you in the past. Maybe he's even apologizing for being shitty in his own way.

But slowly, the gestures start to happen in the light of day. He'll slow his pace to walk side-by-side with you, instead of leaving you struggling to keep up with his long strides. He lends you his hat when the scorching sun roasts your face, at least, until he finds another one for you. One day you come across an expanse you'll need to cross, but its up to your shins in disgusting muck and water. He offers to carry you across. You look at him like he has six heads, completely unsure if he's mocking you or not. You don't accept the offer...this time around.

If you're doing drugs together, he offers you the last hit, the last line, whatever. Funnily enough, this is what makes you start to realize that he may be trying to communicate something else; he's selfish about a lot of things, but his drug stash is undoubtedly the biggest. You were floored enough when he'd offered to share at all. When he makes that offer the first time, you look at him for what feels like a long while before you accept.

You also lean in and give him a kiss on his rough, pitted cheek when you take whatever it is from him, terrified that you're misreading the situation and he'll shove you away. But he doesn't; he smiles at you, a more genuine and relaxed smile than you think you've ever seen on him before. But then he looks away, almost shyly, and things are quiet again.

That night, you lay your head on his lap when he sits down beside you. He doesn't say anything, but as you're drifting off to sleep, you feel him start to play softly with your hair.

[mochiwrites]

gentle touch of morning

( a small scarian epic au piece <3 reblogs do more than likes! )

It’s funny. 

Over the twelve long years Scar spent fighting, leading his men into battle, the thought that kept him going was his eventual homecoming. Every waking thought was of his husband and son, and Scar’s reason for living, for breathing, was his family. As he sailed rocky waters, faced monsters and gods alike, lost men after men, Scar wished for nothing more than to be home, to awake with his husband sleeping beside him. 

But as he stands in his home, the one he most intimately knows, Scar feels… wrong. Out of place. He’d woken up early, savoring the sight of Grian’s sleeping face (he could never get tired of it), and felt so restless that staying in bed for any longer seemed impossible. So Scar took to walking around his home. 

He and Grian built this place up, together. The memories are some that Scar looks back on fondly. He could never forget it, no matter how much time he spent away from it. Scar only fears that it has forgotten him. 

Scar takes easy steps, walking and reacquainting himself. He notes the pictures, most of them being of his son. He hardly sees Grian in any of them, perhaps one or two, less than a handful. And the ones that Grian is in, his smile doesn’t light up his face. It makes Scar frown. 

He wanders for a bit, traversing each winding hallway with careful movements. It’s as if he fears the house may collapse at any moment, or some attacker may jump from the shadows, perhaps a god will catch him off guard and finish him off. Not even in his home does he feel the full safety he’s supposed to. These walls feel foreign, unfamiliar. Even if he can picture everything clearly in his mind, knows this place like the back of his hand. Scar still feels like a stranger. 

Eventually, he finds himself in the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway, catching sight of another person. 

His son. 

His little Pitta. 

Well, not as little anymore, as a young boy at fourteen. But to Scar it still feels like he’s just an infant that he could cradle in his arms. Another thing time robbed him of. So many missed moments, opportunities, to watch his son grow. And while Scar knows that there are still many years to come, to see, a piece of him mourns the time he lost.

For a moment, Scar keeps quiet. He watches his son, taking in his dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. He’s the striking image of both Scar and Grian somehow, even if they aren’t related to him. But Scar loves him all the same; would move mountains to give him whatever he needed. He can’t help but wonder what kind of person his son is, what he likes and dislikes. Does he resent Scar for leaving? Does he consider Scar his father, or a stranger who left a loving husband alone for years on end? He doesn’t want to find out. Not now. 

Scar stands there until he can’t anymore, finding hazel eyes landing on him. He watches the way in which Pitta’s eyes light up, turning all shiny and bright when he notices his father. He turns away from the counter, abandoning the slices of bread he had taken out. He smiles, and gods, does his smile look like Grian’s. “Papa!” Pitta greets, the timbre of his voice cheerful and soft. 

“Hey, Pitta,” Scar returns, heart melting each time he’s reminded that he’s finally returned home. He never thought it would happen, that maybe it’d take him longer, or maybe something would strike him down on the way back. But against all odds, fourteen years, and Scar is home. His son stands in front of him. 

“What’re you doing awake? Is dad up too?” Pitta questions, raising a brow at him. 

“Uh…” Scar blanks, unsure of what to say. It’s not like he’s going to tell the truth, Pitta shouldn’t have to worry about him. Scar has already caused him enough pain, there’s no need to cause more now that he’s actually here. “Gria— your dad’s still asleep,” he stammers. The words feel awkward on his tongue, like they shouldn’t be there. This life of domesticity… he doesn’t know how to go about it. It isn’t just some enemy he can cut down. 

The very thought makes him nauseous. 

“Oh!” Pitta blinks at the response. “Well, that’s… good.” He nods to himself awkwardly, and Scar hides a grimace. 

He… really doesn’t know how to interact with his son. 

There’s this dark curdling of doubt in his mind that begins to creep up, settling over him. He’s afraid. Worried that this is one thing he’ll never overcome. It’s a familiar feeling, an old friend, a once enemy turned begrudging shadow. It’s a feeling he experienced in battle, traversing home, taking his castle back from scoundrels that dare to stain it. But there is a new fear that joins it, overwhelming like a tidal wave. 

Does he even know how to be a father? 

Scar feels his breath sharpen just a tad, skipping a beat and hastening. He can feel hands curling around his throat, beginning to press into his skin. He feels it tightening on him, the grip firm. The pressure starts off as something light, until the fingers of Fear dig deeper with each shakingly quiet breath. It gets stronger and stronger, straining his lungs until he can feel his throat being squeezed, choked. 

“Papa?” Pitta’s voice breaks him from the spiraling thoughts, from the overwhelming fear sneaking in. 

The hands around his neck relax, and the terror recedes, sinking back into the depths of his mind momentarily. He allows himself a moment to breathe, a chance to suck in a soft breath and recenter. His vision clears, and he becomes aware of the way his heartbeat pounds in his ears, loud like a drum. 

He manages a smile, “I’m uh, gonna go check and see if our Sleeping Beauty is awake.” Keeping his eyes trained on his son, Scar tries to maintain his light smile. He takes a few small steps back, slipping into a casual mask. He’s gotten quite good at it over the years of putting on a brave face. “Be right back.”

Pitta watches him, brows creasing in concern as he goes. “Oh… okay,” he answers, sounding resigned as Scar retreats. 

Scar turns around, and brings himself back to the beautiful olive tree where his Grian is fast asleep. The sun shines down on him, cutting through the green leaves. The light spills into their bed, painting a halo in the soft yet sandy blond locks of Grian’s hair. He rests in their bed, eyes shut and face relaxed. His body is curled somewhat, the blanket tucked just over his shoulders. 

Staring at him, taking in the near angelic sight, Scar takes a few breaths to calm himself. He walks over to their bed, sitting down on the edge, right beside Grian. He contents himself with just sitting there, watching the rise and fall of Grian’s chest. It feels a little easier to breathe, with the love of his life right here, peaceful. Scar can almost allow himself to pretend he lives in a world where he never went to war, where he never had to leave his family behind. He can almost allow himself to pretend he was the husband and father he should have been. 

Chest aching and overflowing with doubt and regret, Scar reaches out. Tenderly, Scar brushes some of Grian’s hair away from his face. He ever so softly tangles his fingers in the silky strands as he rhythmically cards through his hair. Scar’s expression softens, chest swelling with love for the man before him. He drags the pads of his fingertips along Grian’s head, feeling the soft locks under his touch. 

He can’t imagine what it was like, doing so much alone for so long. Scar has always believed Grian to be strong, the strongest person he knows. But this? Scar doesn’t think anyone could compare, not even the gods. 

Not in the way it matters, at least. 

His thumb idly strokes Grian’s cheekbone, loving and sweet. “I’d be lost without you, my light,” he murmurs. Because it’s true. Scar would’ve given up a long, long time ago if he didn’t have Grian and Pitta to come home to. Grian is his rock, his eye of the storm, his compass. Scar is caught within Grian’s orbit, forever wrapped up in him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this man. Grian kept their home in one piece. He raised their son. He handled whatever it was that Scar couldn’t in his time away. Grian held out hope for fourteen years that Scar would come back to him. 

Scar owes him everything and more. But most importantly, Scar owes him his love. And by the gods will he offer every last ounce of it, every drop. Scar is a man. No general, and certainly no hero. He is just a man who wants to pour his heart and soul out for his spouse. Scar is just a man in love. 

Beneath his touch, Grian’s face twitches, and he begins to stir. “Mmm… Scar?” he mumbles, still groggy and waking up. 

“Good morning, my love.” Scar smiles at him, brushing away a particular curl of hair before stroking his cheek. “Sleep well?”

“‘ink so, yes. It was warm with you,” Grian answers, leaning into the hand on his cheek. “What’re you awake for?” 

Scar pauses, if only briefly. “Uh, well, y’know. Just admiring my pretty husband while I have the chance,” he answers, which isn’t entirely a lie. 

Grian looks at him with clear suspicion, but doesn’t push. Instead, he sighs quietly as pushes himself to sit up. “You can do that when I’m awake too,” he teases, leaning to press their lips together. Scar is more than happy to sink into it, using the hand on Grian’s cheek to angle his head slightly, deepening it. The kiss is sweet, loving. It’s slow and patient, carrying the patience of fourteen years within it.

When they pull away, Scar rests their foreheads together. “I guess I can, yeah,” he agrees softly. “Mind if I take a few more minutes to admire him?” 

Grian smiles, kissing the corner of his mouth in return. “I suppose.”  Scar simply smiles, and gods is he happy to be home. No amount of fear could ever leave him unhappy to be back with the loves of his life. Never. 

[sanalang-ao33]

OVERPOWERED - twst [name] content.

Synopsis: [Name] is known for their unique magic, ‘With a Snap of my Fingers’, which allows him to have someone melt to death on the spot when they make eye contact with them.

However, those who know better know that [Name] never used their unique magic after the incident from back then. And, it doesn’t automatically happen when they snap their fingers, it’s only when they activate their unique magic.

Format: Bullet Point, Established Relationship, Open to Interpretation,

Warnings: Thoughts and actions of the characters used below don’t reflect on the author. Also, this might be a little(?) OOC.

< RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS >

They were called the Red-Rose Tyrant and his Guard Dog. When they were scared of Riddle before, imagine him together with his significant other, they would run away faster than a dog after a middle schooler.

If Riddle’s magic can make you feel like you’ve been beheaded, [Name]’s will make you feel like you’re being burned alive.

But what Riddle doesn’t understand—and is frustrated about—is the fact that they fear you even if you’ve never used your UM since childhood. What’s the big deal?

You aren’t the type to use it, even if you were angry, unlike him. And you were no dog! You were his lover!

“If I hear you two gossiping again, it’s off with your head!”

“You two can do better things, like doing Professor Crewel’s homework, instead of talking about such nonsense. Get back to work!”

Now let’s talk during the overblot. When fearful students told you to use their UM on Riddle… 

“Insert your own comment.”

Crowley forbade it. Riddle’s already dying, he can’t have more go down. In the end, with the combined effort of the Grim, the Prefect, Ace, Deuce, Cater, and Trey, Riddle is saved from the blot.

After the overblot, the air is awkward between you two, but you still help Riddle with turning a new leaf. Sure, students still feared you two, but not as much as before.

Progress is progress. Right?

< JACK HOWL >

You two were oddly paid. The big bad [Name] and the goody-two-shoes Jack Howl. 

Jack will always say:

“[Name] is not the type, you shouldn’t talk down about someone you barely spoke to. Have some decency.”

As much as you always tell Jack you’re fine with it, he will still always defend you every time he hears someone talk negatively about you. Whenever and wherever.

It’s sweet really, until it causes discord among his dorm mates and other people. No, please don’t start arguing with your teammate during track, Deuce keeps worrying.

(But the boy also took part in defending you, just so you know. You’re Jack’s lover, and Jack’s his friend, so he must!)

Now during Leona’s overblot, you were also told to try and use your UM which Jack is wholly against, not wanting you to dirty your hands and possibly go to jail:

“Insert your own comment.”

Jack reassures you whether you ask for it or not, and whether you’re upset or not. He always does at the end of the day. It’s repetitive but all the more heartwarming, and it shows just how much he loved you.

< SEBEK ZIGVOLT >

You two never got along at first because he’s worried you’ll use your UM on the people in his dorm, especially the people he’s loyal and closest to. Especially WAKA SAMAAAA and LILIA SAMAAA (and Silver).

But in the end, he warmed up to you and also started yelling at people and starting fights when he heard people talk about you.

“How dare you! [Name] never uses their UM! AND THEY DEFINITELY WOULDN’T WASTE IT ON SOMEONE LIKE YOU—“

Sebek, my love, DON’T USE YOUR MAGIC ON THEM!!

(No he doesn’t resort to his UM. He’s not that crazy.)

Your dynamic is “HE SAID NO PICKLES” but you can actually tell them yourself, you just choose not to because this is how Sebek shows his love. He isn’t the type to do lovey-dovey stuff, he gets so flustered that he freezes up.

It’s kinda hot too. But you don’t tell him that.

During Malleus’ overblot, he is worried sick about you the whole time but Silver reassures him that you are strong enough to handle yourself and is currently dreaming a good dream. Right now, they need to find answers in Lilia’s dreams first.

“[Name] isn’t someone you need to coddle like a baby, Sebek. They’re your lover, not your liege.”

“That’s— I COULD NEVER! I’m their lover, it’s my job to make sure they feel protected!”

Yes, he has his flaws. You might want to talk to him about those. But he loves you, you know? Sometimes, he forgets that he doesn’t need to act like a bodyguard when he’s with you.

Yeahh, definitely talk about that while also reassuring him he’s doing his best. I guess.

[andi-kook]

CYCLE ✦ Jungkook

SUMMARY: you know being with jungkook is toxic and sooner or later, another fight will ensue, and the cycle will continue – but you don’t care because you know deep in your heart that you’d rather have the pain he brings in your life than feel absolutely nothing at all.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Yandere

WORD COUNT: 2039

WARNINGS: not suitable for audiences below 18. please do not engage with the story if you are underage. the story contains depiction of a toxic relationship + smut but not too descriptive (finger, light choking, marking, use of derogatory terms during sex, rough unprotected sex).

Despite being surrounded by your friends, blaring music and good alcohol – the emptiness following your most recent fight with your boyfriend of four years remains. By now, you should already be used to it, having engaged in countless fights and arguments with Jeon Jungkook and these would lead to no contact. Sometimes, you’d be the one who would have him blocked; sometimes, it was him. But neither of you could stand not being together so by the end of the week, one of you would have reached out and made amends.  

This recent fight, however, is different. First, it has been a month since the last time you ever spoke or seen Jungkook in the flesh. Despite numerous attempts to contact him, he would just completely ignore your texts and calls. He didn’t block you – not even on social media where you’d see him living out his best life which makes it even more painful because it was as if he was deliberately letting you know that he was ignoring you and that he was happier without you.  

Your friends, who had never liked Jungkook from the get-go, kept telling you that this should be the last straw. This should be the ultimate sign for you to finally move on from your on again, off again boyfriend. Clearly, according to them, he would much rather party and be with his equally despicable friends than have a proper adult conversation with you about your fight and relationship moving forward. You know this too – no, really, you do. You are a smart and logical young law student who has a full scholarship at the top law school in the country, a member of its Student Government and is being courted by several big and renowned law firms in the country for summer and winter internships.  

But when it comes to Jeon Jungkook, all that goes down the drain. When it comes to Jeon Jungkook, everything is tunnel vision.  

You’re on your fifth shot of tequila tonight, already feeling hot and tipsy but you don’t give a damn. You will do everything to make the void in your heart carved by your (ex) boyfriend fade at this point. Distracting yourself is just not cutting it – not with your studies or org works at the Student Government. So, when a man who seems to be around your age, whose features you cannot clearly make out with the ridiculous lighting in the club, makes small talks with you before ultimately asking you to dance – you agree.  

Now, you’re not much for dancing. You’re awkward in that aspect but the man, whose name is Wonwoo, takes the lead and you’re appreciative of this. His hands are placed respectfully on your waist while yours are around his neck. Up close, you can see a bit of his features like his cat-like eyes behind a silver circular rimmed eyeglass, pointed nose and small pink lips. Wonwoo smells nice too – his cologne is not as strong as Jungkook’s which you surprisingly like.  

Wonwoo leans into whisper in your ear, asking if it’s okay that he kisses you because he no longer can contain himself. He wants to taste you, have been wanting to the moment you enter the club. You gulp, mouth agape. You’ve never kissed anyone else besides Jungkook. Your lips have always just known Jungkook’s. Suddenly, you feel your chest tightening and you step away from him. You mutter a meek apology towards Wonwoo before you head back to where your friends are and grab your things.  

They ask what happened, where you’re going, and you make an excuse that you’re tired and wanted to rest already. Rina, the designated driver tonight, offers to drive you home but you decline, saying you just want to be alone for now. You don’t wait for any of their responses and head out of the club.  

Even though you don’t exactly know what is happening with your relationship with Jungkook right now, dancing with Wonwoo still makes you feel like you were cheating on him. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth – and it’s not just the alcohol you consumed.  

You don’t know where your feet are taking you. All you know is that it’s already pouring, you have no umbrella, and you’re beginning to get cold due to the short black dress you’re wearing and nothing more. Then, you hear the familiar sound of a motorcycle engine. You know this because Jungkook owns one. You pay no mind to the nearing sound of the vehicle but when you hear that voice – you stop on your tracks.  

Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed, on his motorcycle. He has taken off his helmet, long curly hair soaked from the heavy downpour, wearing his favorite red and white leather jacket, jeans, and a thin white shirt underneath, outlines of his toned chest and pecks showing as the material sticks to them due to the rain.  

“Get on, Y/N. It’s raining, you’re dressed like that and you’re clearly drunk, seeing how your ankles are tripping over a straight road.”  

You’re shocked to see him to say the least. Of all the people who could have driven past you, Jungkook is the one. Your heart begins to race – is this a sign from the universe? It must be, right?  

“Get on, now.”  

His tone is more demanding now and as though you’re programmed, you immediately take the helmet from him and wear it before you mount his motorcycle, dress hiking up. You press your bare thighs against his wet jeans and habitually wrap your arms around his small waist. Jungkook doesn’t ask if you’re ready and speeds off.  

When you reach his apartment, after taking off your shoes, both of you walk to the bathroom to limit the wet patches to mop later. As though the two of you haven’t been talking to each other for a month, you comfortably take your clothes off beside one another in the medium-sized white bathroom.  

“Take a shower before you get sick,” Jungkook mutters before walking past you, about to exit his bathroom.  

But you grab his arm, and he looks at you with a stoic expression on his face. “You should take one too.”  

“I’ll take one after you.”  

“Let’s just do it together. Conserves water.” 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol in your system that is making you bolder than you are. Or just the fact that you’ve showered Jungkook plenty of times than you didn’t that not having him in there doesn’t feel right anymore. He stares at you for a while before he grabs your hand, slides the door of the shower cubicle, and orders you to take off your underwear. You give it to him, and he tosses it outside along with his black Calvin Klein boxers.  

You switch on the shower. Jungkook tells you to turn around and hand him the shampoo. He squeezes some on his palm before lathering it on your hair, fingers scraping the dirt on your scalp. You close your eyes to the relaxing sensation. Then, he tells you to face him.  

You keep your gaze on him as he begins to rub the loofah around your body – beginning with your neck, down your arms your chest where his fingers ever so gently graze against your nipples, to your legs, and then your inner thighs. Your breathing becomes heavy when you feel his knuckles touching your labia and you jump when they graze over your aching clit.  

“Turn around, baby,” Jungkook says in a low voice. You waste no time in following his order. He rubs the loofah on your back, and down to your ass. Once he finishes lathering your body, he opens the shower again, and rinses the shampoo and soap off your body. You close your eyes once more to the relaxing sensation of his fingers in your hair then they begin to travel down your neck, arms, and he surprises you when he grabs your breasts with his veiny hands. Your eyes shoot open, and your mouth is agape as you meet Jungkook’s intense gaze as he squeezes and rolls your nipples between his thumbs and index finger.  

“Kook…” You breathe out as his hands free themselves from your breasts and travel down to your waist. He grabs the showerhead as he rinses your lower body.  

“Hand me your feminine wash,” Jungkook orders. “Gotta make sure your pussy is clean.”  

You’re already wet at his words. You give him your feminine wash and he tells you to squeeze a proportionate amount on his big palm. Then, he places the showerhead at your core, wetting it, before he rubs his palm against it. You let out a moan, grabbing onto his toned biceps as a smirk plays across Jungkook’s lips, spreading apart your labia to rub your clit. You hiss at the contact but find yourself grinding against his palm.  

“Look at you, getting off on my palm like some bitch on heat,” He says with a humorless laugh. “I’m cleaning your pussy, but you’re making it dirtier.”  

“Kook, please, I need you,” You whine desperately, spreading your legs further as Jungkook presses you against the cold tiled wall, showerhead dropping on the floor. He captures your lips with great intensity as he rubs your clit ferociously. You hook one leg around his waist, giving him more access to ruin your cunt. The sound of your pussy squelching while Jungkook wraps his free hand around your throat heightens your lust.  

“Fucking bitch, fucking dirty bitch, I’ll fucking ruin you tonight,” Jungkook promises as he pulls away but not too far. He captures your gaze again. His eyes are dark and hazy with lust. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me destroying your cunt, your mouth, maybe even your ass. You deserve it anyway, right? For choosing your friends over me? Then acting like a slut towards that guy you were dancing with tonight.”  

You are in a daze. He doesn’t stop rubbing your cunt even if you have already cum. All you can do is nod but it’s not enough for him. He grabs your face. “Say it. Say that you deserve to be ruined by me.”  

“I-I deserve to be ruined by you, Jungkook.”  

He taps your cheek. “Open your mouth,” Jungkook commands. You obey. He gathers spit in his mouth and drops it into your mouth, watching as the white substance trickles down your throat until you ultimately swallow. He chuckles darkly. “My good girl. I’ll fuck you till the next day and however I want because you’re mine. No one else.”  

“I’m yours,” You affirm, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m always going to be yours, Jeon Jungkook.”  

As promised Jungkook ruined and fucked you until the next day, leaving his marks all over your body – from hickeys to his handprints on your red swollen ass. He filled you with his cum repeatedly, not caring about your pleas to stop because you were already exhausted and overstimulated. But then he’d mock you that if you really wanted him to stop – your pussy wouldn’t have clenched around his thick cock as he pounded into you for the nth time, nor your swollen clit would still be throbbing.  

Jungkook fucked you in the shower, on the bed, by the balcony of his high-rise condo unit, on his couch, and back to bed where some time in four am, Jungkook finally stopped and fell asleep beside you. When you wake up, he’s still there, sleeping so angelic like he didn’t just say the most diabolical things to you while he came in your over and over again.  

You know this is wrong and you should leave before he wakes up and form all the right words to persuade you to stay with him again. But you stay anyway. For the first time in a month, the emptiness isn’t there. You know being with Jungkook is toxic and sooner or later, another fight will ensue, and the cycle will continue – but you don’t care because you know deep in your heart that you’d rather have the pain he brings in your life than feel absolutely nothing at all.  

ANDI: I do not condone relationships such as this one. This is only a depiction of a toxic relationship loosely based on a personal experience. This does not represent who Jungkook is in real life, so please do not relate this character to him any way, shape, or form. Fanfiction is just fanfiction.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCES, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.

[little-emerald-snake]

Hey there! I was hoping to make a request 👉👈

Maybe smutty 7 minutes in heaven with Ominis? At a party in the common room, perhaps? 🤭

Seven Minutes in Heaven - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

Sorry for the repost. Forgot to include the ask for this 😩

Warnings: alcohol use, mild dominis, hate sex, unprotected p-in-v

1.3k words

Her eyes met his unseeing ones from across the rug as a quietness settled over the ring of classmates spread across the floor of the common room. Ominis was mid sip, stopping when he’d started hearing the awkward silence and whispers from around the circle. He quickly pulled the cup away from his lips. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me…the fucking bottle landed on me, didn’t it?”

Sebastian clapped him across the back and the amber liquid in Ominis’ cup sloshed over the edge onto the rug. “You’d be right about that, my friend.” Ominis sighed, setting down his cup, getting to his feet, tugging his wand out to guide himself toward the dark closet they’d designated to shove people into.

She’d also gotten up and quickly trailed behind the blonde and the brunette as laughs and chatter returned among the group. Sebastian chuckled, holding the door open and letting them inside. “Have fun in there, but not too much fun.”

He quickly shut the door, making it effectively dark inside of the small space. It wasn’t too cramped that they were pressed against each other, just enough to give them each a bit of standing room. She swallowed nervously when Ominis dropped his hand, the glow of his wand disappearing.

She knew he’d hated her for everything a few years ago but silence had unfortunately always had a way of making her chatty. “I-I’m sorry…look when I spun I never thought it would land on you.”

She couldn’t hardly see anything but she felt him cross his arms and could practically feel his eyes roll. “Mhm, yea whatever.”

Her shoulders sank and she sighed, turning around to face away in the small space. “I guess I’m a bit surprised to hear you still hate me so much. I suppose I deserve it after all.”

Silence.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and spun around again to speak, only for her wrist to be caught in his hand and pinned against the wall above her head, effectively stunning her silent. “Merlin, you still don’t know when to stop, do you? Can't you just stay quiet for seven fucking minutes?”

She swallowed so audibly it had her wincing in the dark. He chuckled above her. “Oh, I see. Chatty when nervous, silent when embarrassed. How cute. Maybe if I keep you all anxious this won’t be so bad then.”

She gasped as his lips ghosted over her neck, his teeth grazing lightly across her sensitive skin as his tongue darted out to taste her. “I hate how fucking good your skin tastes.”

She blinked, one arm still pinned above her head as his body moved to crowd her against the wall. What he’d said about her being silent had been pretty accurate. She didn’t know what snapped inside of him but this was a side of Ominis she’d never seen.

His tongue trailed over her neck again, bringing a whimper to surface in her throat. He groaned against her skin, choosing then to smash their bodies together and pin her to the wall.

She gasped when she felt something stiff press against her thigh. He groaned, leaning in to catch her lips, licking into her mouth all while grinding his erection against her, urging closer and closer to the space between her legs.

Her brain felt liquidy inside of her as his tongue claimed hers. He swallowed whimpers and moans that she tried to let out. He kissed her possessively, controlling how their tongues clashed and no matter how much she urged for more he kept her in check, pinning her shoulders to the wall.

He pulled away and her eyes opened, trying to focus in the darkness. She heard a zipper and the sound of his belt and heat soaked its way up her body and into her cheeks. “Turn around and fucking lift that skirt up for me.”

She swallowed, obeying quickly. Heat and panic warred in her mind. How much time had they used vs how much did they have left. She didn’t have much time to think before a near scream lurched from her.

His hand covered her mouth in time to keep their actions a secret from those in the common room. He’d pulled her underwear aside and pushed inside of her with nearly no resistance. He was big, yes. But her wetness had made it easy for him.

His hand dropped and she bent herself over a crate in front of her, using her own hands to cover her mouth as his hands moved to grip her hips hard enough she was sure they’d leave a bruise. His hips pulled back and slammed back in with no warning, fully intending to use her roughly.

He leant over her body, fucking into her harshly and drawing small covered cries from her throat. He pushed his mouth against her ear, teasingly licking the shell before grunting. “Bet you fucking charmed that bottle hm? Getting stuck in here with me on purpose. Don’t act like I don’t know how long you’ve wanted this. How badly you wanted me to want you in any capacity.”

Moans spilled from her palms and he snickered, plunging into her carelessly. He was loosely keeping track on time and knew they didn’t have much longer. Maybe only a minute or two left. He had to make this quick. “Put one of those hands between your legs and rub your clit. Be fucking greatful I’m even letting you try to cum.”

She didn’t hesitate, immediately shoving a hand between her stomach and the crate so she could roll small circles around her throbbing clit. Her hips bucked at the pleasure. It was all too much too fast and the idea that they could be caught like this, him fucking her at a punishing pace against a crate, was enough to make her clench and gush around him.

He groaned lowly, reaching up with one hand and pressing her upper back down so that her chest was flat against the crate. He thrusted into her wickedly, focusing on how intense she felt rippling around him. “That’s a good fucking girl. Oh, fuck. Take it.”

His voice was a raspy whisper as his body jerked, stiffening and stilling inside of her as a burst of liquidy warmth filled her. She was panting, reveling in the thrill of what they’d just done. He’d ruined her for anyone else. She knew she’d never experience that level of urgency and intensity from anyone else.

He pulled out, letting her underwear slide back into place. “Don’t you dare take those underwear off tonight. And no baths. You’ll sleep with my cum seeping out of you all night like a good girl.”

She nodded, though even if he wasn’t blind it was still dark, shakily standing back up and trying to right her clothes and fan herself while she listened to him redo his belt. She could feel now there wasn't a chance the group wouldn't know what they’d done, she might as well write guilty across her forehead in ink.

That was, until the glow of his wand appeared and met her skin. A cooling charm took the flushed appearance from her skin and she quickly raked her fingers through her hair to clean it up,straightening her clothes once more for good measure.

Only moments later she gasped with a jump as the door opened and light filled the closet. Sebastian’s goofy smile met her eyes. “Hey! You both survived without killing each other! Congrats!”

Ominis looked just as unaffected as he did before they’d gone in and she hoped that she maintained her grace as they stepped out. She heard Ominis scoff as they sat down back in their spots. “You should all be lucky this game is so anonymous or I’d report whoever fooled around in there. That closet will reek of bad choices for ages.

The group laughed, eyes looking around at possible targets in the group seeing who had a reaction. But when her eyes met Sebastian’s he simply gave her a crooked smile and a short wink that had a flush returning to her cheeks.

[sugawarassoulmate]

More of shitty boyfriend daishou?????

tbh i didn't think anyone cared about him!! i never get requests for daishou 😅

words: 725

cw: fem!reader, cheating, unprotected sex, minors dni

he's still around, being the world's worst boyfriend. and honestly, reader's probably getting fed up of it at this point. he's never breaking up with mika, no matter what he whispers in your ear when the two of you are together.

you start to pull away a bit. you brush off his advances, laughing them off a simple joke, and you're making sure you're never alone with him for too long. he tries to put the moves on you but you're out the door before he can fully sink his teeth in. he tries to walk you to your dorm one night but you tell him you're meeting a friend instead.

after a while, daishou stops trying and you think he's gotten the hint. you wondered if the two of you could ever become friends once the awkwardness died down but the guilt of seeing mika's sweet face whenever she kissed her boyfriend killed that thought for you.

everything seemed fine. no more late night phone calls or sending nudes through snapchat. you and daishou could stand to be in the same room without palpable tension. his words to you were brief and while it hurt at first, you figured it was best than to continue the mess you were in before.

so when daishou approached you at a party — a get together between some of his teammates and other friends from campus, really — you didn’t think he had ulterior motives. his girlfriend was here and gave you a big hug. "it's been so long! we should hang out," she said, giving your hands a firm, loving squeeze.

you accept when daishou asks to talk somewhere quieter, thinking that he deserves some closure too.

"fuck, i need you to be quiet," he breathes, clamping his free hand over your mouth while the other keeps you pinned to the wall of the upstairs bathroom. you hadn't slept with anyone since giving daishou some distance all those months ago. the feeling of his long cock bruising your cunt had you shaking with pleasure.

you wanted to shout, to cry about how good he was fucking you but it all came out as a babble under his palm. it's probably for the best, you can only hope mika isn't getting suspicious downstairs wondering where her boyfriend ran off to.

"you can't deny of me of this like that again," a cocky grin slithers across daishou's face as he latches as the skin of your neck. "went fucking crazy not being in this pussy."

it's hard to ignore the tight feeling in your stomach when you hear those words, trying not to put so much weight into them but you've missed him too.

you didn't give much thought to date someone else — not like you and daishou were dating anyways — but you had given him so much of your attention, you didn't even know if you could flirt with another person.

there was no one else that caught your interest, just him. and it felt pathetic to admit it, having feelings for some guy that would rather juggle between two people than commit. but you can enjoy being a selfish person at least for now if it meant getting to enjoy the feeling on him.

knowing that time isn't on either of your sides, daishou fucks you harder. his hand drops from your mouth to lightly squeeze your neck, the dizziness only adding to your euphoria.

with your fingers in daishou's dark hair, you cum around his cock. any feelings of guilt you had wash away as you're overcome with the thought of "just daishou" over and over again.

"that's my girl, you're gonna take my cum, yeah?" he coos. "don't let a single drop go to waste."

even after he cums, daishou doesn't stop his pace, fucking his seed deep inside you. "ahh sugu, it's so much," you whine, feeling his cum running down your thigh when he finally pulls out.

daishou does his best to clean you up with toilet paper, flushing away the evidence.

when the two of you finally make it back downstairs, mika seems blissfully unaware that daishou had been gone for so long. she pulls you into a conversation about her classes and you try to follow along, ignoring the feeling of her boyfriend's cum pooling in your underwear.

©sugawarassoulmate 2024 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[allyricas]

it's golden like daylight

eddie and steve who are like stupidly in love, but a misunderstanding leads to a devastating breakup. no staying awkward friends, no wishing each other the best. nope, they are hurting and want nothing to do with the other. they don't communicate and it takes others getting involved for things to finally work out. it's months of angst before the daylight finally breaks.

I once believe love would be burning red But it's golden Like daylight, like daylight Like daylight, like daylight I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I can never look away I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you Things will never be the same

steve who hears eddie telling wayne that things with steve are fun, just a fling. it's nothing serious, uncle wayne. i mean, it's steve harrington, how serious could it really be? wayne is a taciturn, quiet man and just shakes his head at eddie's foolishness. he knows his nephew is in love, but afraid. neither of them realize steve overheard. steve doesn't understand that eddie didn't mean 'it's steve harrington' as a slight against him, but rather, against eddie himself. it's steve harrington, how serious could he be about eddie munson? it's meant to be self-deprecating and vicious only to himself.

the word nothing repeats in steve's head for weeks. he pulls away from eddie, but tries to pretend nothing is wrong. as much as it hurts, he loves eddie and doesn't want to lose him. he knows he's running hot and cold, but he's trying to hold it together. they're relationship was a secret to nearly everyone. only robin knew and eddie's best friend jeff knew. and his uncle knew since steve nearly lived in the trailer.

he can't start acting weird around eddie without alerting the entire party that something is wrong. it hurts knowing eddie think he's nothing serious. that he's still king steve to eddie, that all the soft, romantic moments meant something very different to steve.

a few weeks of steve acting strange has eddie panicking. he thinks all of his fears are coming true, so he gets mean after steve sits on the other side of the couch, barely looking his way. he decides to confront him. says how he knew king steve would do this, that it was all just an experiment, bullshit even. how he should have known.

and steve hears that word from someone he loves again and it breaks him. he lets his old self out to handle things. steve goes cold and totally emotionless. he's unaffected, untouchable and this is nothing, bullshit and he won't cry in front of eddie. make them think you don't care he thinks to himself.

he rolls his eyes, scoffs and tells eddie's it's over. tells him to throw his shit out, to lose his number, that he's had his fun, and the fling is over. and he walks out of the trailer without looking back. the minute forest hills is out of sight, the mask drops and he falls apart. he has to pull over so he can sob until he can't breathe. he's not sure how long he stays parked in the dark, crying over the fact that he lost eddie. that after everything they went through, apparently eddie never really saw him and never actually loved him. steve figures the only thing he can do is pretend he's fine.

eddie is broken. he is so shocked by the way steve left, laughed at him when he broke things off that he can't even cry until his uncle comes home in the morning. he wanted to fight about it. wanted steve to fight for him and instead, his worst fear came true.

seeing his uncle's concerned face is all it takes for him to finally break down. he cries and tries explaining what happened. wayne so much as tells him that none of it makes a lick of sense because that boy is head over heels for you son. eddie is heartbroken, totally unaware that his cruel words are the catalyst to the whole breakup. even when steve throws the words right back to him, eddie never makes the connection.

eddie doesn't handle it well. he's visibly falling apart during campaigns, stops going to band practice. loses weight he really couldn't afford to lose. steve seems fine. he's carrying on as if they were never even together. it hurts so badly to see steve carry on as if they weren't together and hadn't just broken up. the only person who knows all the painful details is robin because steve is convinced that no one needs to know, that it would out eddie. she occasionally glares eddie's way, but stays out of it at steve's insistence.

privately, steve is truly a mess. he's cried more over the last few months more than he has in his entire life. he tries to be there for the kids, to put on a happy face so no one knows just how badly eddie hurt him, but he feels the way the kids stare at him. he feels their concern so he just tries to fake it better. he tries to go out on dates, but none of them mean a thing. he can't touch them or kiss them without wishing it was eddie. he throws up the first time he tries to kiss a girl outside her apartment. it's wrong, it's not eddie and he only wanted to kiss him.

steve sees the way eddie is wasting away. the kids tell him about how eddie's depressed, quit his band and doesn't bother with the campaigns he wrote. it infuriates steve because how dare eddie act like he's the heartbroken one. eddie is the one who didn't want steve, couldn't reciprocate the love steve felt. he heard him so much as tell uncle wayne that it was nothing. that they were an experiment, that eddie always viewed him as the shitty high school jock he couldn't seem to escape. it just made steve bitchier towards eddie, because how dare he?! he ignores the worried voice in his head that wants to go to eddie. the urge to care for him never seems to fully leave.

it's not until wayne and steve finally run into each other a few months after the breakup that steve starts to think maybe eddie's actually hurting. wayne is kind to him, but has that disappointed look in his eye that hurts worse than any angry words. wayne looks tired and when steve asks how he is, he sighs the worlds heaviest sigh. tells steve about how eddie isn't doing so good. won't eat, won't leave his room. that he's watching his boy waste away and that he still doesn't understand what even happened between the two of them.

which...confuses steve. steve tells him as much. mentions the conversation he overheard, that he knows eddie doesn't love him, doesn't see him that way. he admits that he's in love with eddie, that he only walked away because eddie basically told him to. that he tried to make things work even when he knew that eddie wanted something different.

he asks wayne to keep the conversation between the two of them because he thinks eddie just needs time to let go. all wayne says in return is that eddie can't let steve go because he cares for you steve. my nephew makes a lot of mistakes, but make no mistake, the boy's missing you something terrible. steve knows wayne would never lie to him.

while steve and wayne have their heart to heart, robin finally cracks and confronts eddie. if she has to listen to steve cry himself to sleep one more time, she might commit homicide. the whole thing is ridiculous because she saw the way eddie looked at steve. he was either the world's best actor or something else is going on. so she makes her way over to forest hills knowing steve is busy grocery shopping and running errands.

when eddie opens the door, she actually gasps out loud because he looks terrible. too skinny, dark circles under his eyes, hair a wreck. he's not even wearing his rings. all her righteous fury dissipates as she looks at eddie.

he's quiet, all the manic, quirky energy that surrounds him gone. he looks like a shell of the man she knew only a few months ago. she asks why he is so heartbroken if steve meant nothing to him. asks him why he cares so much over someone who was just a fling, an experiment? she tells eddie how steve heard him say those things to wayne, and still stayed until eddie called him king steve, an experiment, and bullshit that fateful night.

she tells him that steve is good at faking it, that he's done it all his life for his parents. she makes eddie listen as she tells him about the way steve cries himself to sleep every night. that he thinks he is unlovable. that he thought eddie was different. eddie's sobbing as robin tells him the unseen truth of just affected steve's been by their breakup.

he remembers that night he lied to wayne. he knew even wayne knew he was full of shit, just trying to guard his heart in a vulnerable moment. his steve...he would have only heard the words. eddie thinks he can feel the moment his heart finally cracks in two because this whole thing has been a severe misunderstanding that he caused. he knows steve is afraid of being too much. he knows his parents treated him like shit, made him feel like his love had to be earned and then made sure he could never fully earn it. knows about how nancy broke his heart. robin made sure to tell him that she also called him bullshit.

robin holds back his hair as the throws up. stays with him while he showers and helps him detangle his hair. lets him cry on her shoulder. she helps him clean his room and do his laundry and lets him talk it out. he admits that he is deeply in love with steve. he tells robin about how he lashed out when he felt steve drifting away from him. she makes him eat and drink some water. and then, she tells him it's time to make things right as she's leaving.

they're both realizing there has been a misunderstanding of epic proportion. eddie is sick knowing that steve heard him say things he didn't mean at all. steve's new knowledge means that eddie really is doing that badly. dustin and mike have been talking about how terrible he looks, but steve just thought it was teenage dramatics. they said he'd lost weight, wasn't eating. the urge to go see him is nearly impossible to ignore, but he's still not sure if he can... the words eddie said still replay in his mind.

he thinks of wayne, looking so concerned. thinks of the look on eddie's face the night he told him to lose his number, the shock on eddie's face as steve basically laughed at him as he broke it off. regardless of anything eddie said, steve is the one who said the words 'it's over'.

oh, my, god. steve feels ill because eddie thought steve considered him the experiment and that was the reason he'd been pulling away. they're fucking idiots, the both of them. months of heartbreak because they have the communication skills of repressed neanderthals. after a few hours of ruminating over all the ways he's fucked up, steve knows he has to make things right.

eddie is on his way out of the trailer to fix things when steve's bmw flies around the corner, skidding to a stop next to his van. he looks unhinged, like he's been crying and repeatedly running his hands through his hair. he's still in his family video vest and he's out of breath like he's run a marathon.

they stare at each other for a few moments before they start talking at the same time:

eddie: i'm so sorry, i didn't mean a goddamn word. steve: no, i'm sorry, i didn't even try to talk to you, i just acted all weird and you could tell something was wrong and- eddie: no this not on you stevie, i should have asked what was wrong, i lashed out because i was afraid you were leaving and- steve: no, i could have just talked to you, i love you so much and i was afraid you didn't feel the same way eddie: no, sweetheart i'm so in love with you, god it made me a little crazy and i was scared, wayne was asking me questions and i got defensive and i was totally lying. i love you so fucking much. steve: i'm so in love with you eddie: i don't think of you as king steve, i do see you steve, i know you. you are so easy to love, i promise. there is nothing about you that's bullshit. steve: i didn't want to leave that night, ed. i was so hurt and you said it was an experiment and i'm so stupid, i thought you meant it was that for you- eddie: hey, you are not stupid. we both fucked up, but i was mean and you were trying to protect yourself. steve: but i hurt you, baby you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself, please let me take care of you. eddie: we can take care of each other, love. i've missed you, please, forgive me? steve: only if you forgive me too.

they spend the next several weeks making up. it's a lot of physically reconnecting, of course, but it's also talking through everything. they want to be sure that they're communicating. this means talking through all the painful stuff, from the start of the issues and even before. it's eddie opening up about his urge to run whenever things get too good, that something will go wrong and that he's too much. it's steve explaining his deep seated fear he has to earn love and that he's never worthy of it unless he's done enough. they both have abandonment issues to work through, but they are committed to working through all of it together.

the heartbreak suffered during the six months they spent apart ends up transforming their relationship into something unshakeable. it's deeper, filled with a more encompassing love than before. it's pages of beautiful love songs that eddie can't help but write. it's steve knowing he'll follow eddie without a second thought once the band finally gets their big break. it's their beautiful future, golden like daylight, defined by love and no longer controlled by fear.

Like daylight It's golden like daylight You gotta step into the daylight and let it go Just let it go, let it go I wanna be defined by the things that I love Not the things I hate Not the things that I'm afraid of, I'm afraid of Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night I, I just think that You are what you love

[blairrwaldorfs]

Midnight Rain

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: The glitz and glamour of Hollywood isn't always what it seems. When Joe had started working with you in a movie, he had started wondering as to why you, the famous Hollywood starlet, has been acting out lately. Was there some dark secret behind all the angry spoiled façade? And why was he so fascinated about it?

Author's Note: Hello! I'm back with another Joe series! There will be dark triggering factors in this series, so I'm warning you all this right now. I won't put a disclaimer on this chapter because it hasn't been mentioned, but it will be in the future chapters. I have been working on this plot for a month and a half so hopefully, it will satisfy you all! This might end up being more than five parts, so we'll see. Comments are always welcome, of course! :)

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Okay, okay!” You laughed. “You win, Jimmy!”

Your eyes sparkled in happiness as Jimmy Fallon put down the headphones on his desk. The both of you were playing a game on national television. You were called to promote your current movie, and an interview with Jimmy Fallon was one of the promotions that you needed to do. He had challenged you to put on the headphones and play the music on a high volume, while he said random words in front of you. You had to figure out what he was saying, but your answers were always so far off. 

“Well, that interview went well.”

Joe jolted in surprise as soon as he heard his manager, Alex, enter his dressing room. He paused the video of you with Jimmy Fallon and looked over his shoulder to see Alex, shaking his head and letting out a deep sigh. 

“What’s that?” Alex tilted his head towards Joe’s tablet and saw that he was watching one of your interviews. 

“I don’t believe that the woman out there is the same person as this woman in this video.” Joe said.

Joe pressed play again and saw how right at the end of the show, your eyes were literally watering from laughing so hard. Your smile and eyes were sparkling in joy. It was almost like you were a whole different person. You were full of light, and you laughed at just about everything. He wasn’t going to lie, your laugh was infectious and he couldn’t help but chuckle when he was watching the whole interview. You were very interactive, and your answers to Jimmy were so detailed and fun. You even would joke a little to make Jimmy laugh during the interview. 

The video was three years old, and Joe couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he just sat for an hour and a half with you this morning for an interview for the movie that you two have done together, and you were almost lifeless. Almost so disinterested about everything around you. 

“Well, it’s not your problem.” Alex sat across from Joe. “Your priority is to focus on promoting this movie. She has her own publicist that could deal with whatever that is going on with her.”

Joe’s eyes shifted towards the paused Youtube video on his tablet again. See, that was the problem. He knew working with you on set wasn’t really that difficult. You came to set everyday—even if you were late most of the time—and did your job well. You were an amazing actress, and he knew how big your fanbase was. You didn’t exactly spend time with him too much on set nor with the rest of the cast, but he thought maybe because you weren’t that social. Now that he has seen some of your old interviews, he realized how extroverted and outgoing you were. But what happened? Joe couldn’t seem to let it go. 

“Ten minutes.” Alex patted him on the shoulder before walking out of the dressing room. 

Joe exhaled a sharp breath and leaned back on his chair. You were late this morning too, and you were already having an argument with your publicist as you walked down the hall and passed by Joe’s dressing room. Sitting on the chair, Joe and the interviewer gave each other an awkward smile as they waited for the both of you to arrive. Fixing your hair, you whispered something at your publicist before sitting next to Joe. 

“Hi.” Joe smiled at you.

“Let’s get this over with.” You mumbled under your breath, fixing your hair. 

The first few questions were easy. Joe was able to answer most of it, and you put on a fake smile and nodded your head. However, as time passed, Joe noticed the bored expression on your face as you played with your rings on your fingers. His eyes shifted on your lap as you spun the ring on your middle finger and then played with the fabric of your dress. He wasn’t sure if that was you being nervous or that was just a habit that you did. 

“So, what made the both of you interested in the role?” The interviewer asked.

“It was outside of my comfort zone, and I wanted to try something new. So, I hope I did the character justice.” Joe laughed softly.

Then, the interviewer’s eyes shifted to you and so did Joe’s. You bit your lower lip and was silent for a moment. Then, Joe saw the sparkle that twinkled in your eyes as you smiled.

“The paycheck was good.” You laughed at your own little joke. 

Joe saw the awkward expression on the interviewer’s face as she tried to just laugh off your answer. Joe couldn’t help but feel the blood rushed to his cheeks. He didn’t understand why you were acting like this. Were you just bored? Or were you doing this on purpose to piss off your team? 

The interviewer proceeded with more questions and at one point, you yawned in the middle of it and quickly apologized. Although, Joe knew you weren’t being genuine at all. You just said that because you knew you were on camera. 

“Are you guys excited to see the movie?” The interviewer asked. “You know… To see how it was all put together.”

“Yeah, actually—”

“No,” You shook your head, cutting Joe off. “I’ll probably just go home and order takeout after the red carpet.”

Joe started to feel uncomfortable, and he could see it all over the interviewer’s face that she was about done with you. He took a deep breath and gave the interviewer a smile as she asked more questions, but you kept trying to just make jokes and be sarcastic over it. Not once had Joe heard you answer the question with a serious answer.

“Do you think we will get a sequel?” She asked.

“Absolutely not.” You replied to the question immediately, your eyes widened looking horrified. 

“Can we take a break?” Joe asked, clearing his throat. 

“Um… yeah.” The interviewer smiled, getting up from her chair. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Joe immediately found himself in his dressing room, and he didn’t know why but he couldn’t help but google you. He wanted to know if there was some article that could tell him as to why you were acting like this. Then, that was when he found the Jimmy Fallon interview. It stunned him. Your hair was different too. Longer, dark brown and wavy. Now, you have it dyed in a platinum blonde and your roots are showing halfway on your head. It was only styled because you had your stylist for the day. 

“Ready?” Alex interrupted his thoughts as Joe set his tablet on the table and nodded his head. 

Following Alex out of the dressing room, Joe sat back on the chair and waited for you to arrive. Looking over his shoulder, he could hear your voice whispering at your publicist angrily. He watched as your publicist gave you instructions, her brows all furrowed and pointed her fingers towards the empty seat next to him. Joe couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation. He knew he shouldn’t because just like Alex said, it was none of their business. However, Joe couldn’t understand why he was so interested in you. Why have you gotten his attention so much? It wasn’t like you were nice to him or gave him attention. In fact, you didn’t even bother learning his name. 

Hearing you sigh, you sat next to him and gave him and the interviewer a fake smile as you fixed your dress and hair. Joe could see the interviewer was intimidated by you, while she gave you a cold smile. At this point, Joe wouldn’t be surprised if she lashed out at you.

“So, how is it like working on set?” She asked. 

“Fun.” You shrugged. “Though, no one really talks to me nor I talk to any of them.”

Joe’s eyes shifted towards you and just answered the woman that he had an enjoyable time with his co-stars. However, he couldn’t help but think about what you told the interviewer because that was actually true. You have never had a full on conversation with him on set nor with your other co-stars. You always locked yourself inside your trailer during down time or would only talk if it’s about the movie. In fact, you never even tried to learn his name. You had been calling Joe by his character’s name all this time. He just never corrected you because he thought you were on some kind of method acting but now that you both were doing promos, he just now realized that you were still calling him by his character’s name. 

After a few more questions, the dreadful interview was finally over, and Joe was sort of relieved that it was done. Even though he probably would have to do more interviews with you for the next few weeks, he was just glad that the day was over, and he was able to go back to his hotel. Walking down the hall with you, Joe tried to find every ounce of courage to talk to you before you entered into your dressing room. 

“Have a good night.” Joe gave you a small genuine smile. 

“You too, John.” You smiled before entering your dressing room. 

Stunned, Joe stood in the middle of the hall alone as he tried to process if you really just said that. 

Did you really just call him John? Again?

Taking a deep breath, Joe walked over to where his dressing room was and found Alex sitting on the sofa with his tablet in hand. He looked a bit overwhelmed but when was Alex ever not overwhelmed with anything? 

“What is it?” Joe asked. 

“Nothing, just going over your schedule.” Alex said. “We’ll be flying to Paris tomorrow for the premiere, so I suggest to get some rest.”

Joe nodded his head. “Okay, anything else before I go?”

Alex shook his head. “No, the car is waiting for you outside.”

Joe thanked Alex one more time before grabbing his things. He was ready to just go back to London at this point. He has been in unfamiliar cities the last few weeks that he truly missed his own bed. 

In your dressing room, you sat on your chair, your thumbs scrolling away through social media as your publicist nagged you over the things you have said in the interview today. You have been tuning her out for the last few minutes that you barely understood what she was saying. 

“Seriously?” Lily grabbed the phone from your hand.

“Hey!” You gazed up at her with a death glare. “That’s my stuff. You can’t touch my things. It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“Have you been listening?” Lily’s voice was full of frustration. “This movie is the only thing that’s keeping your career from not falling apart and you’re acting like this?” 

You let out a frustrated sigh, settling back on your chair and stared at yourself in the mirror. You were giving Lily a death glare through the reflection of the mirror as she paced back and forth behind you. 

“I didn’t lie.” You argued. “The script sucked! I thought I, at least, owe my fans the truth.”

“Please.” Lily rolled her eyes. “You know you weren’t thinking about your fans.”

You bit your lower lip and didn’t say anything for a moment. There was an uncomfortable silence surrounding the both of you before Lily let out a deep breath and slammed your phone on the table in front of you, making you flinch a little.

“You know what, good luck with your fake honesty because I quit.”

You froze in your chair as you heard the dressing door open. Through the mirror, you saw your manager, Skyler, walked in and just in time heard what Lily just said as she stormed out of the dressing room. You grabbed your phone from the table and continued scrolling through social media again, ignoring the fact that your heart was beating a thousand times per second. 

“That is the third publicist that walked out on you in under three months.” Skyler said, setting her tablet down on the coffee table behind you. 

“Whatever.” You said, nonchalant. “She didn’t know what she was doing anyway.” 

Skyler watched as you focused your attention on your phone before walking up to you and grabbed it from your hands. You took a deep breath and rubbed your forehead in frustration. 

“Stop scrolling through social media and reading stupid articles on the internet.” Skyler barked. “It’s messing with your mind.”

You sighed and slumped on your chair as Skyler stood in front of you, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “You have a flight to Paris tomorrow night, so can you please get your act together before the premiere?”

You got up from your chair and gave her a sarcastic salute before grabbing your purse from the sofa. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go straight home and get some rest.” Skyler called out as you walked out of the door. 

You knew all too well that she was making that clear because if she didn’t, you would go straight to the bar and get drunk then, she would have to deal with your hangover the next morning. As you walked out of the building, a crowd of fans behind the barricade were screaming and waving at you. Flashes of the cameras blinded you as you quickly walked towards the van that was waiting for you. Looking out the window, you watched the people waving at you before slumping down on your seat, letting out a sharp breath. 

You have been doing this career for years and until now, you couldn’t seem to get used to all of this craziness. At one point, you would just tune it out. This whole industry was full of fake people, and you could never just trust anyone at all. Sometimes you didn’t even know if you could trust your own team, especially with the way they were always frustrated with you. 

You couldn’t blame them. 

They have every right to since you have been acting out for the past year or so. They would just never understand what goes through your head. They could never understand all of it. 

The moment you entered your house, it was dark, quiet and eerie. You hated every corner of this house. You flipped all the lights on and you were greeted by just empty nothingness in front of you. Just furnitures, the AC immediately turning on, and the skyline of Los Angeles from the distance through your glass windows. You walked up the stairs and went to freshen up, taking all the makeup off and draining all the hairspray that was in your hair. 

You hated all of this. You hated every part of this career of yours. 

If only you could go back and change everything, you would. You could feel the anger swirling inside of you as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes, your eyes looked tired, and you looked so miserable. You could barely recognize the woman in the mirror. You didn’t know who she was anymore. She was just a skeleton with skin but there was nothing left inside her. She had a beating heart, but it wasn’t beating for anything at all. 

A tear rolled down your cheeks as you quickly wiped it with the back of your hand and turned away from the mirror. You changed into your pajamas and slid under your bed covers. Picking up your phone, you scrolled through Twitter again until you could hear Skyler’s voice echoing in your mind. 

“Stop scrolling through social media and reading stupid articles on the internet. It’s messing with your mind.” 

You sat on your bed, reading through tweets until you felt the anger brewed inside of you. Every single thing they were saying was all negative. You weren't enough. You couldn't do enough. You weren't anything good at all.

Nothing was ever enough.

Throwing your phone across the room, you screamed in anger and slid under your covers. Tears streamed down your face as you pulled your pillow against your chest and sobbed quietly.

Everything was just dark and miserable. 

*********

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