#I thought someone was a friend but I was stupid to think that

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[bbydoll18xx]

Guilty As Sin?

'We've already done it in my head'

Paige Bueckers x reader

I've never written anything, so this could very well be terrible, but I have a teeny tiny crush and it's killing me lol here we go!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some naughty thoughts, ANGST, friends to lovers aka my fave

....................................................................................................

If there was one thing you had learned throughout your time at uconn, it was that it was pretty fucking difficult being Paige Buecker’s best friend. 

You had met her early in your freshman year when the boisterous blonde was partnered with you in an introductory biology course. You attempted to hold back a groan and an eyeroll as you heard your professor assign the two of you together for an upcoming lab project. You hated group projects, and even more, you could not stand the prospect of not getting a good grade in a class so important for your major. 

Paige, even as a freshman, was extremely popular. Her incessant smirk caused girls to blush under her gaze, and the boys basically broke their necks trying to impress her. She was the type of girl who knew she was hot shit.

Unfortunately, that was your type.

As Paige strolled over to where you were waiting for her, you tried desperately to ignore the uptick of your pulse. ‘Get it together,’ you thought to yourself. Girls like that should have no control over you.

“Hey, I’m Paige. I don’t think we’ve met. I would’ve remembered someone like you,” she murmurs flirtatiously, looking you up and down. Trying to keep the pink out of your cheeks and taking a deep breath, you hold out your hand and introduce yourself. 

That was the beginning of the wildly complex and intimate friendship you would build with Paige.

As a senior in college, you had learned many things: don't drink copious amounts of alcohol without eating some carbs first, avoid getting into ubers alone, do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your TA, and falling in love with your best friend is never good.

It started off innocently enough.

Paige was clingy and affectionate to those she was close with. You, being bisexual and surrounded by mostly straight people before coming to uconn, were hesitant with showing any sort of affection. You had always worried about accidentally giving your girl friends the wrong impression. Paige never cared, though, as she conditioned you into accepting hugs and tentative hand-holding. You grew to crave her warm, longer fingers wrapped around yours or her hand resting on your leg when she’s next to you at dinner or in the car. 

You had realized you were head over heels for her in your sophomore year, and the rest was history.

History you’d very much like to forget.

You were laying on the couch in your apartment. Music filled the room and you basked in the warmth of the sunshine. You rarely have moments of peace anymore, now that school had started back up.

Suddenly, the front door flung open dramatically, allowing several members of uconn’s women’s basketball team to enter as if they owned the place. 

“Hey girlie pop!” screamed KK. “We are going out tonight, and before you say no, you are coming with us.” 

“What happened to bodily autonomy?” You questioned with an eye roll. This happened all the time. Paige and her teammates had made it their personal mission to turn you into an alcoholic.

“Fuck that,” chirped Paige. “You had all week to chill, and I will not stand for that shit for another minute. Party P is comin' out in full force tonight, and I expect the same from yo' ass."

You let your eyes lock with hers. God that shade of blue made you want to drown in it, gasping for sanity as if it was air. 

“C’mon, you always do this. We’re going crazy tonight,” demanded Nika.

Pretending to think about it, you hesitantly agree. You didn’t have any control when it came to Paige. Whatever she wanted from you, she got. You chalked it up to being best friends, but your stupid brain always reminded you of the true source of power.

Paige, Nika, KK, and Azzi all celebrated as you acquiesced, already planning drink orders, outfits, and song requests at the bar they always frequented.

You sighed as Paige sat down next to you. You could handle this. You always did. Focused on anything other than her, you pick at a piece of lint on the soft green couch. Everything seemed to be a distraction from her. The heat of her body sends your pulse racing, just as it did the very first time you met. She really was an enigma.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” she murmurs softly. “Wouldn't be the same if you weren’t there.”

Taking a page out of the Paige playbook, you look her up and down and respond with an “I know.” She momentarily wears a look of shock, before her lips slide into that smirk again, and she laughs. The sound makes you want to run through a field of flowers and then jump from a building.

The pregame was, like always, chaotic, loud, and gave you anxiety. A drunk Paige was a clingy Paige, and you were not sure you could handle the extra touching tonight. One of the bottles of vodka that sat on the counter in the kitchen was beckoning to you, and you decided quickly that the only way you were getting through the night was with copious amounts of alcohol.

As you swallowed with a grimace, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly, the door opened. Paige appeared, rubbing her hands together, looking like she was ready to fuck shit up. Your shit already felt ruined as you gulped at the sight of her. The black crop top she had on made you quickly spin around, shooting another shot in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the hunger that was brewing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. We don’t need you wasted before we even leave,” Paige taunts teasingly, as she saunters over to you.

With your cheeks pink and inhibitions already lowered, you licked your lips in a manner you could only hope looked seductive and put the bottle into her outstretched hand. For the second time today, a flicker of surprise graced her features. ‘Good,’ you thought. ‘Two can play that game.’ 

As Ted’s was close to the apartments you all were living in, it was decided that a walk would be more efficient than attempting to wrangle the numerous already drunk girls into ubers.

You cherished the warm breeze flowing through your hair, allowing it to briefly sober you up.  Walking alongside Azzi and Caroline, you let out another small sigh, catching their attention. Your feelings were evident to pretty much everyone except Paige, and her teammates often tried to coax you into admitting your feelings to her. 

“Try to have fun tonight. Find someone hot to grind on, and you’ll feel better,” Azzi said unhelpfully. You laughed, but it wasn't a bad idea. “You’re right. I need a distraction. And preferably someone who is not blonde,” You muttered, causing Azzi and Caroline to giggle. 

Paige’s head whipped around at the sound of laughter. She pouted for a second before bounding over to you. She secretly hated the attention you gave her teammates; she wanted you all to herself.

Paige was possessive, as well as mouthy when drunk, which could be a messy combination. But Paige did not care about being messy tonight. She wanted your attention and your attention only. She knew she could very well embarrass herself, but the desperation of needing your attentiveness was far more important. She could handle her anxieties in the morning. 

“There’s my pretty princess,” Paige announces loudly, taking my hand into hers, almost possessively. The pet name wasn’t unfamiliar. Paige called you every name under the sun except the one on your birth certificate, yet the sudden affection caused your heart to lurch dangerously.

You needed a drink.

The bar was already buzzing when you walked in alongside the girls, still being pulled along by the tall blonde. You were fortunate it was dark inside, allowing a sense of privacy to indulge in the intimacy Paige was supplying to you.

She places a hand on your waist, looking down at you. “Imma get you a drink, babe. Stay here with the girls, and do not let any creeps touch you.” You could tell the few drinks she had at the pregame were already getting to her. She was getting more proprietorial.

You nodded, but you wanted to see how far you could push her. You’d do anything for her attention, even if that meant flirting with a boring guy to test her. She was sexy when she was pissed.

You fantasized about the way her jaw clenches when she's angry, as you scoped out for someone to be the target of your favorite unhealthy game. A six-foot blonde with light blue eyes catches your gaze, and you smirk. ‘Game time,’ you think.

With a smoldering look in your eyes, and the alcohol in your veins to keep you feeling confident, you walk up to the guy and introduce yourself. You find out his name was Josh and quickly shift in closer to him, feigning intimacy you would only ever want with Paige. 

It’s not long before you feel Paige slid between you and Josh, creating the distance you wanted since you walked up to him. 

“Paigey!” you exclaim. “This is Josh. He wants to dance with me.”

You see Paige jaw clench in annoyance and she pushes the drink she brought you into your hand before wrapping her now free arm around your waist with her hand splayed against your belly. You shiver at the contact.

“Go away before I make you, bro. She’s mine,” Paige practically barks at Josh. He shrinks away with a weird expression on his face.

You weren’t sad to see him go.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Paigey,” you beam up at her and take a drink. Paige’s eyes never leave your lips as you bite them, looking around the crowded bar. Your lips are pink from the gloss you just applied, and she thinks about how they’d feel against hers. 

Paige would never admit it aloud, but she thinks about you. She thinks about your dimples when you smile at her. She thinks about your laugh. She thinks about how you taste. In her head, they are together. In her head, you are spread out underneath her, begging for her tongue, her fingers, for anything.

Paige is used to people throwing themselves at her, and the idea of rejection, especially from you, makes her shrink back in fear. 

Paige’s eyes are hazy as the dirty Shirley starts to float its way through her veins. She relishes in the feeling of lowered inhibitions and the perfect excuse to get closer to you. Paige pulls you into her to dance. With the alcohol fully in your system, as well, you giggle and seductively dance against her. You can feel the tight muscles of her abs up against you, and you swallow thickly. It's difficult to ignore the way it makes you feel hot and sticky. 

“God, P,” you mumbled against her pale throat. 

“You look so good dancin’ against me, you don’t even know, babe,” Paige replies with her signature smirk.

You could feel the boundaries of your friendship slowly stretching to accommodate the feelings of lust sparking between the two of you.

Between the dancing and the copious amounts of alcohol flowing, the night flew by quickly. Soon, you were getting pulled through the door and back out into the chilly Connecticut air with Paige holding you steady. You were a notorious lightweight compared to the girls of the basketball team, and that hadn’t changed tonight. 

“P-paigeyyy,” you whined needily. “Need you,” you pouted up at the blonde. The other girls in your vicinity shared curious looks with each other. You had never acted like this before whilst drunk, and no one really knew how to respond, Paige included. 

“What do ya need from me, princess?” Paige asked with a chuckle.

You motion for her to lean down and you whisper in her ear, “kisses.” 

“Oh? You wanna kiss me?” Paige questions, feeling all the blood rush to her head.

You nod with a dreamy look on your face. You were going to regret this in the morning, but right now all you could think about was how soft her lips looked and how much you wished you could be hers.

'We've already done it in my head,' you thought drunkenly.

Paige looks down at you with an unrecognizable look, but she presses a soft kiss on your forehead and says, ‘“let's get you home and to bed, doll.” 

As you stumble back into Paige’s apartment and onto her bed, you look up at her and raise your hands over your head, making grabby hands at her. Paige rolls her eyes fondly but helps you get undressed. Walking you into the bathroom, she lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly, helping you take your makeup off and brush your teeth.

It felt so domestic you could cry.

Climbing into bed, your drunk mind prepared itself to sleep next to Paige. It would never feel like enough to you. You wanted all of her. 

Paige lies down behind you, wrapping a long and muscular arm around your waist, caging you in just the way you like it. You are a second away from sleep enveloping you, when you think you hear Paige whisper, “I am so in love with you.”

Your heart stops.

You wake up the next morning with your head pounding. You squint your eyes and look around. Paige is still sleeping next to you. You gently smile as you gaze at her peaceful figure. You wish you could stop time to stay here in this bubble with her. Soon, you’ll go back to being just Paige’s best friend, and the relationship you’ve built up in your head will come crashing back down.

Soon enough, the blonde wakes up, ripping you from your daydreams. She smiles at you, and turns over to completely face your body. “Crazy night, huh,” she alludes slyly.

Your eyebrows crinkle in question. “Did something happen?"

“Uh yeah…you don’t remember what you said to me?” she asks.

You shake your head in confusion, but you start to attempt to recall the events of last night, and all of a sudden it comes back to you. You recall asking her to kiss you, hanging all over her, and the incessant pouting and neediness. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment, and immediately you jump out of bed to leave.

“Wait, don’t go please,” Paige pleads in a way that is startling unlike her.

You ignore her pleas, gathering your stuff and running out of her apartment. Tears burn your eyes as they threaten to slide down your face. You try to stifle your sobs as you climb the stairs two at a time and get to your own door. You throw yourself into your shower as you attempt to drown out your own cries. 

As you sat on the floor of your shower you could not believe how stupid you were. Drunk flirting with your best friend would be the end of your friendship. You could see it already. Paige coming to you, trying to let you down easy. You felt so humiliated.

You sat there until the water got uncomfortably cold, leaving goosebumps against your skin. As you toweled off, you replayed the events of last night in your head for the millionth time. The dancing in the bar, the walk back to Paige’s apartment, her helping you undress. You sigh at the idea of losing her before it all comes crashing back.

“I am so in love with you,” she had whispered into your hair. You still at the memory. Paige loves you? Sure it's common knowledge that you loved and craved her with all of your being, but a love that was requited? It was almost too much to think about. 

You grab your phone that you had left abandoned on the couch and see the messages from the blonde. Messages of regret and longing fill your phone. One more pops up as you scroll, saying ‘I’m coming over. I won’t let you avoid me over this bullshit.’ 

A few moments passed before there was a loud banging on the door to your apartment. You had never felt so appreciative that your roommates had left for the weekend. Your breath grew ragged as the door slowly creaked open, revealing a panting Paige. Her blue eyes looked almost wild as they met yours.

“C’mere, just let me explain,” she says quietly. You weren't used to Paige being quiet and almost solemn. It scared you, just as the thought of confrontation did. This was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

Fighting your own instincts to immediately bolt, you gingerly sit on the couch where she had already made herself comfortable. Some things never change.

“Listen,” she starts out cautiously. “I never want things to be weird between us. I never imagined I would be feeling this way towards someone who was just a friend, but…I think we haven’t been ‘just friends’ in a while.”

You finally allow yourself to meet her gaze, trying to search for any semblance of where this conversation could possibly be going. Surprisingly, she looked hopeful, as if she knew something you did not.

“I-i want you. Like, more than a friend,” Paige stutters out, “And I think you feel the same way. We’ve both been too scared to admit it, but I’m tired of ignoring how you literally make me feel whole.”

You blink back more tears in realization that the last three years of hell of being only Paige Bueckers’ best friend was finally coming to an end. She could finally be all yours and yours only.

Without thinking, you place a hand on her jaw, bringing her to your lips. They meet yours with such hesitancy you almost think you’ve ruined the delicate balance of what you are to each other at the moment. Paige lets out a breathy sigh and pulls you onto her lap. 

You were heavenstruck. 

As the both of you finally pull away from the drug of a kiss, you look at each other and giggle.

“So much for the dramatics, I guess,” laughs Paige. 

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Not my fault,” you pout. “I have no control when it comes to you, P.”

“Same,” grins Paige. “The only thing left to do is figure out how to tell the girls. They’ve all been beggin’ me to tell you ‘bout my lil crush on you.”

“Those bitches knew?” you ask incredulously.

“Well yeah,” Paige says. “I’m not subtle.”

You giggle at how stupid you felt. The signs were there all along, but the fear of rejection and the cloud of lust had obscured any indications of reciprocity. 

“Let’s just start making out the next time we’re in front of them and see how they react,” Paige suggests with a waggle of her eyebrows. 

You could hear the whoops and cheers already.

“Deal,” you say blissfully. 

She was finally yours. 

#paige bueckers #paige x reader #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #guilty as sin?

[hanjsquokka]

Swim - [ Lee Know ]

🎸 SYNOPSIS : After a nasty break-up with your loser ex, you head to your favorite club to let loose, when the bartender catches your eye. He's managed to make you laugh more than you had all week and slowly you find yourself losing focus on his words and more on his veiny hands.

GENRE : smut, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : lee know × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : smut (warnings under the cut!), cocky minho, mentions of cheating (not between minho and reader), drinking

WORD COUNT : 1.7K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : (Part of my Stray Kids × Chase Atlantic series special for their sixth anniversary). Lee Minho. Where do I even start with this man. I think I started to notice more of him during the Oddinary Era videos (because of his purple hair 🧎‍♀️). I feel like out of all of them, I'm very much similar to him. I like him a lot because of that. Also his cats :( I think seeing him transformed me into a 75% cat person now lmao.

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : hand kink, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), piv, semi-public sex, use of nicknames (doll, bunny), choking (fem receiving), clothed sex (?), reader drinks a little but no drunk sex, everyone is sober and consenting!

“Three shots of vodka please.” You said as you slid onto the bar stool, eyes on the bartender's back as he nodded and prepared your drink, handing you three shot glasses and leaned against the counter. You adjusted the hem of your short dress once you noticed a guy eyeing you with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Rough day?” The bartender asked, watching you down a glass.

“How do you know?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Everyone's out here drinking gin tonics and beers. Call it a hunch, I guess.” He shrugged, making you chuckle and thread your fingers together, watching the man with newfound interest. Brown hair hung over his eyes, the middle part showing a bit of his forehead. His lips were rosy (and very kissable at first impression). His biceps strained against the black button up he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up giving you a perfect view of his veiny arms and hands… Oh god — his hands. “So what's gotten the fine lady in a bad mood?” He asked, his big eyes focused on yours.

You drummed your nails against your glass. “I'll let you guess.”

“Let's see…” He cocked his head to the side, “boss yelled at you? Fired? Friends?” You shook your head. Finally, his eyes light up, “Ah… vodka, hanging out at the bar instead of the floor, your phone's practically a vibrator at this point — broke up with your man?”

“He's an asshole.” You huffed and took another shot, the burning liquid flowing down your throat made you cringe but you welcomed the floating feeling that followed afterwards. You weren't a lightweight, a few vodka shots weren't going to make you dead drunk, but you felt better. “He went out to a party, got wasted and fucked someone — two someone's as per his friend. And then had the fucking audacity to beg for another chance.”

He laughed. “Sounds about right.” A song started to play in the background — most likely by the performing group (3RACHA or something?) of the night since there were cheers all around. He turned around and then back again, placing a glass of ice cold beer in front of you. “On the house. That guy is an asshole. You deserve much better.”

“You don't even know me.”

“Any girl like you deserves better than a cheating bastard.”

You laughed, the smile brightening on your face as you kept talking to the man, who introduced himself as Minho. Minho. You liked that name. You liked your name rolling off his tongue even more when he repeated it after you, saying it again after tending to a few other customers. You stole glances at his hands when you thought he wasn't looking, the prominent veins underneath his smooth skin made your face flush as dirty thoughts clouded your mind.

“Do you stare at everyone's hands, or is it just mine?” The smug smile on his face paired with the glint in his eyes — he knew what you'd been doing. You turned red, trying to stammer some sort of response but it died out once you noticed that he didn't look like… he was bothered by it. “I feel honored.” He leaned forward, fingers pulling out some invisible leaf from your hair as he whispered, “wanna tell me what you were thinking about, doll?”

You gave a very intelligent response. “Uh…”

He smirked, looking away from you to tell one of the other bartenders that he was going to get more glasses from the back before telling you in a low voice, “Wait here for a few minutes and then go through the employees only door in the back.” You couldn't muster an answer before he winked and left.

Your heart was thudding in your chest. Were you actually going to do it? Follow a bartender you met a few hours ago? Something inside you was telling you to go for it. Sure, there was a possibility of you walking straight into a trap, but there were so many times he could've done something to you the whole night and he did nothing but lift your spirits. He'd managed to make you laugh more than you had all week.

You downed your last shot before getting up and going to where he instructed you to. No one batted an eye as you slipped through the clearly labeled employees only door and carefully walked into the dimly lit place that looked to be a janitor's closet when a finger tapped on your shoulder and you were met with Minho's big eyes again.

“Now that we're alone…” The muffled sound of music still played from behind the door, “what were you thinking when you were staring at my hands, hm?” You swallowed, Minho's finger traced your jawline before resting underneath your chin, making you look straight at him.

“W-Well…”

“Words, bunny.”

The nickname turned your ears red. “Y-You might be right…”

“Might?”

“Fine.” There was no going back anymore. “I was thinking… certain things about your hands.”

“Like what?”

“How they'd…” You bit your lip. “How they'd feel inside me… or… around m-my neck.”

“Good bunny.” He smirked. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.”

He wasted no time joining his lips with yours, practically devouring you as he pushed against the wall, tongue sliding into your mouth and meeting yours. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing the flesh as he deepened the kiss. Sloppy and messy, things only got more heated as the minutes flew by. He detached from you and instead peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your palm was flat against his chest, feeling his muscles tensing beneath your skin. He nipped at a spot on your neck that made heat pool between your thighs, an unintelligible sound leaving your mouth.

“Oh, you liked that?” He bit down again in the same spot, hard enough to leave a mark before smoothing over it with his tongue.

“Please…” You whimpered.

“Please what?”

“N-Need you. Your fingers.”

“Where do you need them bunny?” He was teasing you. You could see that. But you had just about enough of it. You took his hand and guided it between your parted legs, right onto your covered crotch. “You're soaking. Just thinking about my hands did this to you?” You nodded. He rubbed your clothed pussy, making your head fall onto his shoulder, the feeling nearly making your knees buckle and he barely even did anything. He pulled his hand away and tapped his finger against your lips, “Suck.”

You wasted no time in doing exactly what he said, wrapping your pink lips around his two fingers and coating them with your saliva. He chuckled, taking them out and slipping off your panties from underneath the short dress you were wearing, rubbing over your folds and your clit. You moaned at the simple touch which made him chuckle. He prodded at your hole before a digit entered inside you and you could've cum from just the feelings. “Oh god…”

He inched his finger inside and slowly began moving it in and out, adding another finger when he heard the sweet, sinful sounds escaping your lips, scissoring you open. “Look at you. Already fucked out from just my fingers. How are you even going to be able to handle my cock, hm?”

“I-I can do it. Want your cock. W-Want you to fill me up, Minho, p-please —” You were cut off by your own whimper as he pressed his thumb against your bundle of nerves. You were clenching around his fingers, almost able to taste your orgasm when he stopped and removed his fingers. You whined at the loss, your climax crumbling away.

“The only way you're cumming —” He undid his belt and pulled his pants down along with boxers so his dick could spring out. “On my cock.” And it was big. Fuck. You drooled at the sight of his thick cock, the leaky mushroom tip and the vein that ran along his length and then his heavy balls — holy shit. “Get on that table for me.” He nudged his head towards the small desk table. You scrambled to get there, laying down on the cold wood, your wet pussy on full display for him. “Such an obedient bunny.” He ran the tip of his dick along your folds, only entering you slowly after you whined for him to just put it in.

And he was big. He just kept going and going until you felt the head brush against your cervix. You felt impossibly full, head swimming in ecstasy. Through your half-lidded eyes, you could see he was struggling to keep his composure, eyebrows taut as he held your hips down. Once you gave him the go ahead, he wasted no time in setting a quick pace. Your moans echoed off the walls. The music from outside was like a background track for the sinful deed you were doing.

The water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim.

“Pussy so fucking tight — even after I stretched you out with my fingers —” Minho grunted, angling his hips so that he was hitting that spot inside you that made you see white with every thrust. You were babbling incoherently, much to his amusement. “Did I fuck my bunny dumb already?” One of his free hands reached up and wrapped around your throat. You opened your eyes again, the sight of his veiny arms making you clench impossibly tighter. He let out a groan, squeezing your neck to restrict your breathing a little.

You could feel your orgasm approaching again, your moans turned into high pitched whimpers, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra as you convulsed, cumming around his cock, milking him dry. He let put a string of curses as his thrusts turned sloppy and uncoordinated before he came inside you, fucking his seed into you until he was spent and slowed down.

The two of you were silent, panting to catch your breath.

“Block your loser ex. I'm the one who's going to make you feel like this. With my mouth. With my fingers. And with my dick. Over and over again.”

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#Spotify #k-labels #stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know #lee know smut #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours

[littlexdeaths]

bye bye bye - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

opposites attract masterlist

warnings: gareth is a dickhead, hope y’all like some cheesy fluff, eddie is a complete dork but we love him for it.

a/n: this is a repost of my first y2k eddie fic, with some much needed edits and additions. i will be working on editing and posting the rest of this series soon. i hope you enjoy 💕

word count: 1.5k

Today really hadn’t gone how you’d planned.

You had been hanging out with Eddie and his band mates, something you’d done quite often. Only this time you made the mistake of wearing your *NSYNC tour shirt.

It wasn’t a secret that you and Eddie had polar opposite tastes, it was apparent by just looking at you. You were all pink, bubblegum and boy bands. And your boyfriend was a leather clad, heavy metal enthusiast.

Despite these differences, you fit so well together.

And as they say— opposites attract.

But one of his friends was always more standoffish towards you because of it. While you were always nice to Gareth, he seemed annoyed anytime Eddie brought you around. But today that annoyance had seemingly reached its peak.

And all over a stupid t-shirt.

Eddie had gone to get you both a drink, leaving you in the living room with the three other males. They were discussing the newest Linkin Park album. Which oddly enough, was a band you actually enjoyed outside your normal realm of music.

You perked up at the mention of the album, as it had been the only thing Eddie had been playing since it was released. Feeling eager to see what they also thought of it.

“Oh come on man, you can't say Meteora is better than Hybrid Theory,” Jeff scoffs, shaking his head in response to Gareth’s admission as Eddie leaves the room.

The male rolls his eyes before tossing a piece of popcorn at Jeff’s head, “See that’s where you’re wrong dude, have you tried listening to the albums back to back?”

You take this as an opportunity to add in your two cents, trying to include yourself in the conversation despite your nerves.

“Well, personally I think both albums are great in their own—”

You are interrupted with a loud snort as Gareth rudely cuts you off, glancing down at your shirt before meeting your eyes.

“Why would we care about your opinion of it? All you listen to is boy band trash pop,” he sneers, rolling his eyes as he turns back to his friends.

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, any other words became lodged in your throat. Jeff and Grant throw apologetic glances your way, but continue on with the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Eddie returns shortly after, completely oblivious to what had just transpired. He plops down next to you on the sofa and passes you a can of coke. Due to your solemn appearance, he knew something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

A frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks softly, replying with a shrug of your shoulders.

You let your eyes fall to the open can of soda clutched in your fist. You didn’t want to talk about it, especially not in front of them. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, or to give Gareth the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

So you sat quietly through the next half hour, letting Eddie enjoy the time with his friends.

But he couldn’t seem to let it go, far too focused on what had caused this sudden shift in your mood. So he ended the hangout early, claiming to be too tired from work. But all of you knew the real reason, guilt filled your chest as he walked you out to his van.

They must think you’re a buzzkill too.

The questions started the moment the door shut behind him, badgering you the entire way back to your house. You easily dodged his line of questioning, claiming to be tired. But Eddie wasn’t having any of that, he could see right through you. He always could.

“Baby, come on. Talk to me please,” he pleaded as he followed you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You continued to ignore him as you sat on the bed with a sigh. You felt embarrassed, knowing such a silly comment shouldn’t bother you as much as it did. All you wanted was for his friends to like you, but it was made abundantly clear that they didn’t.

All because you favored pop music? It all felt so trivial, like they weren’t even willing to give you a real chance. It hurt your feelings more than you cared to admit.

But Eddie being the sweet, doting boyfriend that he was— wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Just tell me what happened, sweetheart.” He says, kneeling in front of you, palms resting on either side of your thighs.

“It’s stupid,” you mutter, avoiding his curious gaze.

“Nothing that upset you this much is stupid,” he counters as you let out a groan, dramatically falling back onto the mattress and covering your face.

You hear his exasperated sigh, feeling the weight of his chest against yours as he leans over you. Eddie carefully removes your hands from your face, looking down at you expectantly.

“Your friends don’t like me,” you utter softly.

He frowns, confusion settling on his features.

“Why do you say that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes which causes his frown to deepen.

“Well, just look at me…” you trail off, gesturing to yourself. “And look at you.”

It’s his turn to sigh now, taking your hands as he guides you back into a sitting position. Eddie cups your cheeks in between his palms, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I know what you’re insinuating, but I promise that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” He reassures you, his dark eyes utterly sincere.

And as much as you want to believe him, there’s still a small part of you that wonders if maybe they are right. Maybe you’re too different. He must be able to read the apprehension lingering on your features, as one of determination crosses over his.

“I don’t know what they said to make you think that,” he pauses to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “But I won’t hesitate to kick some ass, sweetheart.”

Despite the teasing lithe in his voice you know he’s serious, quickly shaking your head. The last thing you’d want is to cause more beef with his friends.

“It’s fine, Eds, I’m just too sensitive.” You give him a quick peck on the lips, “Let’s just drop it, yeah?”

You pull away to scoot further up the mattress, patting the spot beside you. But he shakes his head, remaining on the floor for a moment. His eyes dart contemplatively around the room, stopping on the shelf that held your extension CD collection.

A Cheshire-like grin tugs at his lips as he moves towards it, balancing on the balls of his feet. Your brows knit together in confusion as his ringed fingers graze over the plastic spines, stopping once he finds what he was looking for. Eddie pops the disc out of its case and into the clunky boombox before pressing play.

The beginning chords of Bye Bye Bye fill the once quiet space of your bedroom. Your boyfriend quickly jumps to his feet, spinning around to face you. He plants his feet on the carpet, head falling forward as his hands raise up in a marionette style.

Your eyes widen in realization as you crawl back towards the edge of your bed, suddenly intrigued. Eddie shoots a wink your way once he meets your gaze, beginning to sing along. His voice stood out amongst the others, the raspy quality brought a new edge to the track.

But he didn’t stop there.

You watched in amazement as he nailed all the choreography from the music video. You had no idea when he found the time to study all the moves. Between classes, work, hellfire and band practice he barely had time to think.

But knowing he took the time to do this, specifically for you— made your stomach flutter.

You can’t stop the smile from lighting up your features, giggling as your boyfriend continues to serenade you.

“I don’t want to be your fool, in this game for two…”

Eddie drops to his knees at your feet again, coaxing you onto the floor with him. He presses feather light kisses all over your face, the sensation causes you to giggle more. As hurt as you had been, the male always knew how to make you forget your problems.

At least for a little while.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled, grinning down at you.

He’s a little out of breath from his impromptu dance routine, bangs lightly sticking to his forehead.

“You’re an absolute dork, Ed,” you giggle, ruffling his curls in a playful manner.

But the way he’s looking at you has your heart racing. His head dips, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss as the song comes to an end.

“Now, admit it,” he chuckles against your mouth, nudging his nose with yours. “I’m a much better dancer than that Dustin Timberlake.”

You laugh loudly, fondly shaking your head at him.

“It’s Justin, baby…”

#the freak writes 🫧 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #y2k!eddie munson #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #eddie munson x girly reader #my series: opposites attract 🫧 #early 2000s!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you

[f0point5]

would you consider writing the time when max realized that he loved yn?

i remember that he was like in a mindset of idgaf what happens with her im js happy being best friends and having her in my life but i wonder how he got to that point

The way this came out…idk I hope you like it 😂 I really wish I’d retconned this whole situation but I stayed true to the fic timeline.

I just…I really hope you don’t hate it 🫠

✨Set after Max wins his 3rd championship in Qatar✨

Honestly, who (is he) to fight the alchemy?

Max has been in love before. He knows what it feels like. It felt like winning a race. The adrenaline, the elation, the satisfaction, the sliver of relief. He didn’t think there was a better feeling, and if you feel that when you’re with someone, then that must be love.

He never felt like that with you. So he wasn’t in love. He loved you, but he wasn’t in love. Thank God for that, he’d always thought to himself. Max didn’t put effort into games he wouldn’t win and the games you played with men didn’t have a rule book. He was just so lucky, to have you as a friend, and a roommate, and a feline co-parent, and that’s how it would stay.

Except, when the journalist had asked him if you were going to live with him after he retired, he didn’t know what to say. Of course you would, except, how would your boyfriend feel about that? And of course he wanted you to, but he wanted a family, too. But you were family, in some complicated way that he’d never realised before that moment might mean that you wouldn’t always be…with him.

And he didn’t have the desire or the language skills to explain that to a random German journalist. He’d rattled off some answer about how he never knew what the future would bring. It was true, he didn’t think much about the future. But he should have, because when he did it always had you in it.

He wanted a house, and a wife, and kids. It wasn’t like he envisaged doing all that with you. Except, he hadn’t envisaged doing any of it without you, either. It was always you imagined having breakfast with, you he imagined would teach his kids to ski, you he thought about when he thought about buying one of those mansions in the hills above Monaco. Naively, he hadn’t imagined either of you with partners that would mind you and Max living your lives together. It sounded fucking stupid when he thought about it. But, it’s not like he was going to marry you, because he’s not in love with you.

It’s not like I’m in love with her. He’d said that before.

Aren’t you, Max?

Isn’t he?

Is he?

So now here he is, at this totally-not-a-party party, celebrating his this third world championship, wondering if he’s in love. Wondering if that even matters. The music is loud, not enough to drown out his thoughts. He can’t even drink too much because he still has a race tomorrow. He feels lightheaded enough.

He doesn’t know why he’s questioning himself. He has an answer. He knows what being in love feels like, and he doesn’t feel that about you. How he does feel about you, is…not quantifiable. Except he’d really like a name for it right about now. One that’s not going to spin his whole world off its axis. But then, he’s not exactly the axis, is he? Not really.

He should feel like the centre of the universe tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s received praise and congratulations, plaudits, and pictures, even gifts. Everyone wants to be in his orbit, everyone wants to talk to him, everyone except you.

You’re leaning against the balcony, bopping along to the music, talking to his dad of all people, your flushed face and lazy grin telltale signs you’ve had too much to drink. Jos is as close as he ever gets to smiling, a telltale sign he’s had too much to drink, and the two of you are, as usual, talking over each other. His eyes linger on your long legs and gentle curves. It would be cutting a corner, to say he’s in love with you, because how can you not be at least a little bit infatuated with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? But that’s not love, exactly. Even half drunk, with all this talk of spinning and the party beginning to blur at its edges, the only thing he can see clearly is you. You don’t even notice him looking, because you’re so used to feeling eyes on you.

No, being around you has never felt like winning much of anything. It actually feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. It feels like…driving, he realises, as the gin starts to hit.

Being around you was like being in the RB19. Like being behind the wheel of something that could kill you, but fits you like a second skin. Like the illusion of having control of a force of nature. It was like living on a knife edge, but building a home there. Comfortable with the uncomfortable, they’d called him, and nothing had ever made him as uncomfortable as you.

If that was being in love, he’d probably been in love with you for as long as his dad said he was.

You don’t notice him looking, but Jos does. He waves Max over, and Max is glad for an excuse. His body gets up before he’s decided to, and he blinks furiously as he walks, trying to focus his thoughts enough to hold a conversation with you when he’s beginning to think he might-

“Maxy,” you say, grinning like it’s the first time you’ve seen him all night.

Fuck. Fuck.

Oh, fuck. The gin’s coming back. For a second he feels like he’s either going to ask you to marry him or vomit all over you.

“I’m leaving. She’s all yours,” Jos says, and Max steadies himself. His dad leans over and gives him one last hug before switching to Dutch. “Get her to bed. And yourself, also. You’ve still got to race tomorrow,”

Max nods and waves him off, closing his arms around you when you wobble, leaning into him for stability. Jos gives you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, and you teeter again, pushing you further into Max. The extra weight is like a balm on what is now a gaping, raw wound, with the nerves exposed. He will never recover from this.

You turn in his arms, scrunching your nose in displeasure as you look up at him. “I hate this hat,” you flick the brim of his World Champion cap. “Worst hat they ever made you. Next year, we do a better one,”

“Okay,” he says, chuckling as the hat leaves his head.

“Can I have this?” You’ve already put it on.

“Sure,”

Take it. Take my Valkyrie. Take the trophy. Take my last name.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t know how he’s looking at you. Is it different than he looked at you two hours ago? Different then when you were 19?

He just shrugs, tipping the hat back for you, since it’s so big. “You’re drunk,” he yells over the music.

You lean in, so close that he’s intoxicated by the scent of your perfume, champagne, and Red Bull. He turns away from you slightly, because he’s had too much to drink to be this close to you.

“I know,” you whisper to him, your lips grazing his cheek as you talk. That’s not helping. He turns back to you, finding your eyes searching his. For the first time, he’s worried what you might see. Because you’ve always seen him too clearly. It was awful, then exhilarating, now it’s just fucking terrifying. Your eyes narrow and Max thinks you’re about to outright accuse him of wanting- “You’re supposed to be drunk, too,”

He laughs. He laughs at your pout, at getting away with it, for a little while longer, at least, and he laughs because on the night he’s won a world championship he realises he lost his heart a long time ago.

Loving you didn’t feel like a winning a race, it felt like driving in one. And after all, isn’t driving all he ever wanted to do?

“I am, Engel,” he says, “trust me, I am.”

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen fanfiction

[mrchiipchrome]

You Always Go To The Parties

W.C. - 5.7 k

okay so this is the project i've been working on for a little, hope y'all like it:) (also listen to American Wedding by Frank Ocean while y'all read this.)

To clarify, this is a lionesses x r series too, but this is literally just the chapter of introduction so that we can get to know the characters.

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

“Do I really have to go? I can’t even drink legally here.” You groan, there was nothing stopping you from collecting your things and getting the hell out of that apartment in Boston, well except the manners instilled in you from an early age. There was nothing you’d like more than to crawl up in bed and sleep for the next few weeks.

No way Emma would let you do that. 

The sophomore defender had been one of the only people that had come back to college early, having been asked to show you around the campus and the facilities. She had quickly taken you under her wing, which meant that she wouldn’t let you sulk in bed the rest of August.

Brown cardboard boxes filled to the brim with different things, ranging from clothes to knick knacks, were stacked to the ceiling in the otherwise empty apartment. You didn’t mind, clearly, but it bothered Em.

You tuck your hands behind your head, staring up at the ceiling from your mattress that was placed directly on the floor. Your button up had the first few buttons undone, the top of your chest displayed for Em to see, you had even put your fancy trousers on for the stupid party you didn’t even want to attend.

“Yes, you really have to. How else do you expect to make friends, your cute British accent will only get you that far, you actually need to put in some effort okay?” Rolling your eyes at her words, you were quickly made to get up off the makeshift bed, getting pushed towards the door.

“But-” 

“No buts, you are going because I need someone to drive me home when I’m black out drunk tonight, you don’t want me to drink and drive right?” You can’t help but contemplate over her words, feeling the girl’s hand come down on your shoulder harshly. 

Clearly she didn’t like that.

“I mean you could just, I don't know…not drink?” She looks at you like she’s disgusted you’d even think about saying something like that, like she has to drink.

“Wow, it really is obvious your parents are rich.” You lock the door up as you look at her through the corner of your eye, a slightly judgemental look in your eyes.

Your parents were rich, but they didn’t spoil you so you weren’t one of those snobby rich kids, you were just like anyone else. Only you had access to more money than most.

“Shut up.” Emma puts her hands up in the air, like she’s surrendering to you, but you see the way she’s smiling slyly at you. Note to self; don’t get defensive when Em brings up your rich parents.

“You know, I could use a new Gucci bag if you want to contact daddy dear.” She looks up at you pleadingly as you make your way to her car, there was no way you’d use your car, it was far too expensive to be left outside a frat house. You really had to get a more beat up one.

Maybe you’d sell it, and donate the money you got for it to charity. 

“Aw, we’re taking my car?” Em whines, clearly she wanted to take your cool car.

“Aw, I’m not leaving my really expensive car outside of a frat house for hours.” You roll your eyes at her almost like she’s stupid, throwing her the keys so that she could drive, you didn’t even know where it was you were going.

“You know, you are really sassy for being a rich kid.” Em pulls out of the garage, the apartment complex you were living in was just off campus, so near that you walked there every day for pre-pre-season training (absolutely destroying Em every single time without fail).

“Yeah well, I grew up in the public education system in London, so that’s where I get it from.” You look on as the girl in the driver’s seat taps her fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn green.

“Really, I would’ve thought that they had you in private school from the second you popped out.” The green light stands out against the quickly darkening sky, starless and rather bleak, but that’s what you get for living in a big city.

“Nope, they wanted me to have a normal childhood, so here I am.” You motion to yourself, feeling the bumps and dips of the road beneath you, damn potholes.

“I mean fair enough right.” A certain quietness envelops the space between the two of you, it wasn’t uncomfortable, just present without any real purpose.

Your eyes slip shut, with Em turning the radio on, playing soft instrumental music like you weren’t in the middle of Boston where most people prefer hip hop and bubblegum pop. That was probably the biggest culture shock you'd been given so far, the music.

At home it was different, in a neutral way. It was neither better nor was it worse, but it was simply different.

You sink into your seat, the cool air blasting across your skin in that refreshing way, the summer’s heat canceled out by the air coming from the car. Slowly, sleep starts to take over your body in that calming sort of way that you’d wished for earlier.

It had only felt like moments since you’d fallen asleep as Em shakes your shoulders to get you to wake up, the pulsing music coming from the frat house a walking distance away already making your ears hurt. You look around at the surrounding nature, it wasn’t familiar to you, not the trees you’d found yourself memorizing nor the architecture present in Boston.

Even the people looked different, shirts with the printing of a dog on the front instead of the three books representing Harvard. Stupid of you to assume that Em would be rational for once.

“Where are we Em?” You ask, voice riddled with a sleepy kind of innocence that suggested that not everything had registered yet.

“We are in Connecticut, home of the huskies and what might be the best parties you’ll ever experience.” Your eyes shoot open wide, a more than flabbergasted look on your face at her naïve words.

“You kidnapped me and then drove me all the way to Connecticut for a party we could just as well have found in Boston?!” You ask her incredulously, like you couldn’t really believe her. And you couldn’t.

“Yeah, technically I did but you’ll also get to experience the party of your lifetime, so I think that it’s fine.” She tries to justify her actions by trying to reason with you, and whilst it doesn’t work in the way she wishes, Emma’s just happy you’re not totally freaking out.

“Come on grumpy, let’s go. Who knows, you might even have some fun.” Em pulls you along towards the house spewing flashing lights in a hundred different colors.

You let your eyes adjust to the blinking lights as you enter through the open front door, seeing the entire bottom floor of the mansion-like house covered with hundreds of students, packed together tightly like a sweaty sardine can.

The house reeks of bad body wash, moldy pits and strong cheap alcohol, and in a sense of the word Em really did tell the truth, you’d never seen anything like it before. It was almost like those frat boys couldn’t afford to buy deodorant.

If your arm wasn’t as firmly attached to your body as it was, you were sure that Emma would’ve torn it off by now, the resistance of the sweaty bodies pushing against your own as she leads you to the kitchen proving to be a difficult task for her weak arms.

Reaching the entrance of the large kitchen, the first thing you notice is that it’s not as tightly packed as the living room, only a few stragglers here and there with the stereotypical red solo cups can be found in every single person’s hand. Future alcoholists.

 “Okay, base rules since you’ve never been to a college party before, don’t take a drink from anyone you don’t know, don’t accept anyone’s request to go upstairs or somewhere private, you’ll most likely get robbed, don’t be too snarky, people don’t appreciate that and… I think that’s all. Have a nice night!” And with that she’s off to the living room, plucking a cup from a random man’s hand and taking a sip before leading him to the dance floor.

Yeah, base rules or whatever.

Standing alone in the kitchen, you suddenly feel so awkward. The only real parties you’d been to were the one’s your friends threw when your parents were away on their stupidly long business trips, just the chaotic friend group drinking together.

So this, college parties, was something that was totally out of your comfort zone and you’d never hated anyone as much as you hated Em right at that moment.

Spotting a boy out of the corner of your eye, you approach him with confident, yet still relatively hesitant steps, a question at the tip of your tongue. He looks up at you when you’re close enough to smell the odor of old spice deodorant and way too much sweat, his hat turned backwards on his head to hide the greasy hair still somehow poking its way through.

You almost feel bad for the poor thing, well that is until his mouth opens and you’re staring into the hell that is a frat boy’s gob. 

“‘Sup dude, what can I do for you?” His eyes run all along your body, from your ankles up to your face where he notices the annoyed expression.

“I was wondering if you had anything non alcoholic.” You smile staley, eyebrows furrowing together when his eyes light up like a kid on christmas. His laugh feels slightly insulting, especially when his hand comes up to point at you, but there’s really not a lot you could do.

“Dude totally, say the thing though.” You look at him confused, like you didn’t know what he meant. Spoiler alert; you did. “Y’know bo'ohw'o'wo'er.” 

He laughs again when you roll your eyes, and even if all you desire is to punch his stupid face in, you still say the phrase. Was it worth it for a coke? Eh, debatable.

He opens the fridge and throws you the can and laughs once more at your dirty look.

Sipping the drink slowly as you make your way around the house, the UConn students around you stare unashamedly at you, like they knew your face from somewhere, but you weren’t familiar per se. 

Your face scrunches up at the metallic taste of the American coke, much preferring the Mexican one they had in the canteen. You couldn’t complain too much though, you were the one who actually let yourself get dragged to the party.

It’s sudden, the way her eyes catch yours. Deep pools of endearing brown that capture your entire soul in a single second. The girl was mesmerizing as she stood leaning against the wall across from you, her long brown hair falling so effortlessly down her back.

Her gaze is just focussed on you for a second or two, her attention soon being stolen by the man standing in front of her, a sleazy smirk on his face as his eyes ran all along her body. It was clear that she was uncomfortable purely by the way her lips were turned downwards and the way her hands fiddled with the hem of her crop top.

There seems to be a lull in their one sided conversation as she looks to you almost pleadingly, getting the hint almost immediately, you walk over with confident steps, dropping the now empty can on the floor on the way.

The man is almost as tall as you, his burly shoulders disproportionate to the rest of his awkward body, his meaty hands gripping the red cup tightly like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. His hooded eyes do a once over when he spots you nearing them, almost turning a green pale at the sight of you.

You don’t understand why, there was no way you knew him and being recognised as Harvard’s newest addition would be unlikely. Especially in Connecticut.

“Everything alright here?” The girl seems startled by your accent, but she quickly schools her features so as to not show her surprise. Her hands wrap around your waist, and when you look down at her she looks back up at you with pleading eyes, asking you to just go along with it for the time being.

Your arm wraps around her shoulders and she leans into your body almost subconsciously, like you’ve known each other for much longer than you have.

“Yeah, everything’s going good.” He says, not backing down despite having been nervous at your mere presence only seconds before.

“Really? Because from where I stood it looked like you were flirting with my girlfriend.” You don’t even get the satisfaction of watching his gummy smile fade from his thin lips as he takes in your words, because he walks away from you before you can see it.

It makes you chuckle, especially since he walks up to another girl almost immediately, getting turned down in the same second.

“You okay?” You question the girl in your arms, her hand still resting on your waist as you take her in. You can feel her hair against your arm, her nails digging into your skin ever so slightly and the rest of her body pressed so tightly against your own.

“Yeah, he just wouldn’t leave me alone, thank you for the help.” She smiles at you sweetly, her brown eyes shining under the flashing lights. You smile back at her softly, noticing the way her grip loosens, you quickly let up on your grip of her shoulders.

Her unsure steps catch your attention as she takes your hand in her soft one, just like Em had done earlier in the evening.

“Where are you taking me?” You laugh through the sentence as she tries to pull you through the crowd of people, stumbling over her feet clumsily every so often.

“Do you like burgers?” She questions hastily, nearly having pulled you all the way to the front door already, she was a lot stronger than Em that’s for sure.

"Doesn't everyone?” You smile goofily when she looks back at you, her eyes narrowed playfully when you send her a wink. It’s only when you’re already out the door that you realize that Em is still in there, with people you don't know. Strangers.

You stop walking, the girl’s hand still in yours as she too stops, looking back at you confused.

“I’m sorry but my friend, Em, is still in there and I don’t want to leave her alone with strangers.” Her eyes light up again and you look at her weirdly, not understanding why she looked so happy that you had to leave.

“Em Whitmore?” She giggles at the shocked look on your face, clearly you didn’t know much about Em, the girl thinks to herself. You look at her suspiciously, how did she know Em?

“Yeah…how’d you know?” You ask her, still suspicious of her pretty intoxicated form. Her laugh carries all throughout the empty night, no one out and about except you and the mystery girl who’s soft hand is still in yours.

“I know her brother, she comes to a lot of parties here, because she knows she’ll be safe.” The brunette starts pulling you along again and you let yourself follow her, no longer worried about your Harvard counterpart. Her brother wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

By the time you reach the 50’s themed diner, you’ve already walked for ten minutes, side by side with the dark haired girl. You’re lucky that it wasn’t too far away, the half stumbling girl beside you probably wouldn’t have been able to walk that far without falling over.

The bell at the top of the door chimes when she pushes it open, the bored looking cashier perking up when he sees your companion. It was empty in the diner and you couldn’t imagine that keeping it open for this long wasn’t only for the drunk college students looking for a quick snack.

She drags you over to a booth in the corner, decorated in red and white stripes, a glass with straws standing in the middle of the table with a napkin holder beside it.

“Welcome to Donna’s Diner, what can I get for you?” The boy from the counter comes up to the booth after you’ve both settled, handing the two of you plastic menus. The dark haired girl smiles up at him, that fantastic glint in her eye once more.

“Come on now Alex, no need to be all professional.” You look up at him from where you’re sitting, his blonde hair curling around his ears, green eyes staring into yours kindly, thin fingers clasping the small notebook in his hands.

“Alex, this is my new friend, she knows Callum’s little sister, mystery friend, this is Alex and he’s in one of my classes.” You smile at him softly, sticking your hand out for him to shake, and he does take it in a confident grip, sending you a smile of his own.

“I’m Y/n.” Now the mystery girl looks up at you, finally a name attached to your face.

“Nika, I already know what you want, but how about you?” He looks to you when he speaks, obviously you wouldn’t know what to order, it being your first time there and all.

“I’ll just have whatever she’s having with a chocolate milkshake.” Alex disappears behind the counter again, your eyes following his retreating form. Looking away from the kitchen door, your eyes quickly meet the ones of the girl you now know as Nika.

One of her hands was tucked under her chin, keeping her head up in order to look at you. Relaxing into the cushions behind you, the small smile slowly taking over your face suddenly becomes full blown.

“What is it?” She giggles under her breath at your inquisitive look, and despite not knowing much more than her name, you already felt like she knew your soul inside and out.

“Nothing…it’s just that this is the last place I would’ve thought that you would bring me to.” The furrow in her brow is frankly quite adorable, her head turning to the side just in time to catch Alex walking out the kitchen with your food. 

You see the way her eyes light up again, the platter of pure greasy goodness at the center of her attention right at that moment. All you could think about at that second was how thankful you were that the season hadn’t started yet, because everything there broke every single diet you could think of.

Looking to the brunette, the laugh bubbling up from the pit of your stomach is almost one of wonder, because the beautiful girl had already managed to get through half the burger that was in front of her. It seemed like her intoxicated brain only was focussed on one thing, satiating her hunger.

It isn’t long until you follow her lead, picking up the burger and just trying to get the most you could of it in your mouth. You can’t help the groan that escapes you when the exquisite flavours hit your taste buds all at once, having to lean back into the cushions of the booth to be able to take it all in, closing your eyes fully to enhance the experience even further.

It’s only when she laughs that you finally open your eyes again, only to see her looking right at you like you were made of glass, like she could read you like a book and then play you like a fiddle.

“I understand, I had the exact same reaction when I tried it.” She continues to giggle at you when you start to eat like a poor man starved. It was a funny sight to be fair, the way your fancy act completely disappears when in contact with amazing food.

“How’d you even find this place?” You question her when you’ve swallowed and wiped your mouth off with a napkin, you still had manners after all. She smiles at you, gesturing at your surroundings, at the tables and the booths, the chairs and the ketchup bottles, at everything.

“I was drunk after a party once in freshman year and I just stumbled across it.” You nod in response, completely understanding the randomness of how she’d found the place. When you’re drunk, all you want is some greasy food.

“So it’s a well guarded secret between the students then? I assume there’s usually more people here at this time of night.” You take a sip of the milkshake when the last word has fallen from your lips, heat spreading across your face at the intense look you’re getting from the brunette in front of you.

It’s probably just because she’s drunk, you think quietly to yourself, almost trying to convince your mind that the stupidly attractive smile on her face was just one of momentary value, that it was only because it was late and you were tired that it affected you in the way it did.

“Yeah, something like that.” She responds, a comfortable silence enveloping you two as you continue to eat.

The only thing that could be heard was the murmur of the fan across the room, the patting of the fingers of the boy, Alex, at the counter and the sound of shallow breathing. Well that was until her accented voice breaks it with a question.

“So, how’d you manage to befriend the girl with the scariest brother ever?” Nika asks you, her fingers playing with the napkin she’d taken only moments before. Her teeth capture her bottom lip softly as she looks at you tentatively, she’s positively driving you nuts with her pure unfiltered beauty.

“Well, for starters we both play football for Harvard, but she was the first one there to greet me, to help me pack up the necessities and all that. She never did mention a brother though.” You relish in the way she looks at you, all flustered and sweet despite you not having done anything in particular. It was adorable. Pause.

She nods absentmindedly, opening her mouth to speak before closing it and then opening it again, resembling a fish out of water more than anything.

“Were you going to say something love?” You ask the now blushing girl, and she hides her face in her hands at the embarrassment, clearly having zoned out for a little while there.

Reaching over, you pat her shoulder comfortingly before you ask her your next question.

“How about you? How do you know Em’s brother?” Nika reaches over the table to steal a few of your fries, laughing at the betrayed look on your face.

Maybe it was the drinks or maybe you were just funnier than you’d originally thought, either way the angelic sound of her laughing had graced your ears many times that evening. Not that you minded, you didn’t even mind a little bit.

“He plays basketball, I play basketball, and sometimes we train together.” You can’t help the feeling taking over you, the burning feeling that makes you question everything you’d ever known about yourself. Just the thought of your friend’s brother getting to enjoy her company makes the feeling inside you that much worse.

 It seems like she sees the way your expression changes just that little bit before it goes back to normal.

“So, you’re like…close?” You ask the basketball player timidly, rolling your eyes only seconds later when the brunette decides to take a sip of your milkshake.

“No, not especially close. I mean, we talk when we have to at the shared training sessions, but not outside of it. But realistically though, who in the world of college sports doesn’t know Callum Whitmore?” Looking at her cluelessly, you sarcastically shrug as if to say you, because you truly hadn’t known a single thing about the man before she had told you.

By the third time Nika reaches for your fries, you decide to just push them towards her and let her have them, you weren’t even hungry after the monster burger you’d just consumed. It wasn’t at all just because she was too pretty not to get whatever she wanted. Pause.

“You want to switch?” She gestures to your drinks, she’d gotten a strawberry milkshake that she didn’t seem to fancy all that much right at that moment. Sighing goodnaturedly, you give her a nod and allow her to take whatever was left of your shake, smiling softly as you sip absentmindedly at the pink shake she’d given you. 

Soon enough, the only thing that could be heard over the natural noise of the diner was the slight slurping every so often.

“I just got to go wash up, then I’ll walk you home, okay?” The brunette nods as she looks at you leaving, pulling out her phone to seemingly start to text someone not long after.

You walk up to Alex, who’s still standing at the counter and he smiles in your direction when you near, only seeing you out of the corner of his eye. Pulling out your wallet, you hold out your card to him.

“Could you do a to go order? God knows she’ll need that in the morning.” You nod your head in Nika’s direction, Alex smiling widely at you.

“You know, I’ve never seen her with you before…” His voice trails off, as if to tell you to fill in the blanks.

“Yeah, we only met tonight.” You smile at him staley, not understanding why the timeline of events was so important.

“You must be special then if she brought you here, it’s not often she brings anyone other than her friends here after a night out. Nico, drop me two burgers on the grill, one choc milkshake and a strawberry one.” As you walked towards the bathroom of the establishment, putting your card back in your wallet, you started to think about his words, wasn’t this place well known? What made it so special to Nika that the server had to point out how she never brought strangers there?

Wiping your hands off on your trousers, you go up to your table to collect Nika before swinging by the counter to pick up your to-go order, the brown paper bag looking out of place next to the two of you. It seems like she’s sobered up at least a little as she looks at you questioningly, her eyes soon falling to the bag in your hands and then back up at your face.

The bell chimes again when the two of you exit the diner, the cooling air of the late night a contrast to the warm atmosphere of the diner.

“What’s that for?” The furrow in her brow is so endearing that you almost feel the skip in your heartbeat, her eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. Her arm threads through yours, one of your hands in the pocket of your trousers, creating the perfect space for her arm to go through.

You sneak a glance at her, flyaways being highlighted by the streetlights you were passing. Her head meets your shoulder as you start to walk back to the party, her apartment couldn’t be too far from it considering she hadn’t mentioned anything when you offered to walk her home.

“It’s for you, I just know that hungover Nika is going to crave Donna’s diner’s milkshakes to calm her raging headache.” You tease her softly, but there was definite truth there either way.

If there was one thing you knew about being hungover, then it was that good food usually helped at least a little (well, after the spells of throwing up everything from the previous night.) You give her a cheeky smile as you near the party once more, the booming music being heard from miles away. 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” She speaks sincerely, you just smile at her in response, did you have to do it? No, but she’d kept you company all night so you did it anyway.

“Hey, can I just stop by my friend’s car before I walk you home? I just have to get something.” You were so thankful that you’d stolen the keys from Em before you went into the party only hours before. Leading her to the beat up truck, unlocking it and opening the door, you place the bag on the ground before you look through the glove compartment.

Finding the cartridge of painkillers and the pen that you were searching for with a small ‘aha’. The post-it notes Em always kept in her car finally came to use when you stole one, writing a quick message on it before sticking it to the plastic of the painkillers and dropping it down the brown paper bag.

You lock the car up, despite it being a piece of shit that no one would ever steal, Em always insisted on you locking it. 

Walking up to her side once more, you open your mouth to speak.

“So, lead the way home love.” You gesture for her to take the lead, it was her apartment after all. Taking your free hand in hers, the girl starts to lead you towards her apartment building, walking calmly side by side with your hands swinging between your bodies.

After passing countless trees, and even more cars, you suddenly find yourselves at the bottom of the slanted hill leading up to where she lives, and when you actually start to walk up the long walkway, it’s slowly almost like you’re both resisting the natural order of events.

But you had to leave her, both Em and Harvard were waiting for you and no matter how much you tried to resist, you knew that’s ultimately where you had to go, it was your life even if the girl you’d just met seemed far more interesting than anything.

When you reach the top, just meters away from the door, you hand her the bag, smiling timidly when she reached out to hug you, her inviting perfume enveloping you in a blanket of warmth. When she pulls away, she thanks you one last time for your kindness.

“Really, it’s no problem.” You reassure her, smiling softly when she turns back towards you one last time before the distance between you becomes larger and larger, her fingers soon punching in the code to open the door.

“Wait!” You call out for her right as she’s about to enter the building, her head turning back to you questioningly. “Don’t forget to put it in the fridge when you get in.” She smiles and nods before disappearing behind the door.

You start your walk back to the party a few minutes after the door has closed, something just keeping you rooted to the ground. It wasn't until you heard your name get called by that familiar voice that you turned around, seeing Nika through her open window, waving at you as you walked away.

It almost felt like you were in some cheesy romance movie as you waved back, turning to walk away after she closed her window. 

Truth be told, the evening had felt like something straight out of a romcom and some part deep down loved it. It loved the cheesy moments of pure unbridled love, the ability to express yourself freely, to dance in the rain, be your true authentic self in front of someone else was something you didn’t even know you longed for before you met Nika.

You shove your hands into the pockets of your trousers, every step you take moving you closer and closer to the frat house, closer to Em and closer to getting back to Boston.

Seeing Em sitting out on the steps of the house has you confused, why was she out there?

“Em? What are you doing out here?” You ask the clearly incredibly intoxicated Emma, your loud voice not even startling her, her slow movements showing just how drunk she is. The squeal she lets out when she sees you has you covering your ears, the intrusive sound killing your tired head.

She tries to stand up, but it just looks like Bambi on ice, stumbling and falling at every second. You come up and sling her arm around your shoulder, bringing her over to her car and sitting her down in the passenger seat.

“I’m not cleaning up if you throw up in here, just so you know.” She nods drunkenly, clearly not understanding a word you were saying.

“The reason why I was sitting outside is a long story.” She leans her head against the window, and knowing Em, she was probably imagining herself in a music video right at that moment.

“You can tell me tomorrow.” The car starts with a rumble and you pull out of the parking space on the side of the road, quickly pulling out and starting to drive on the main road.

It’s quiet for a while and you almost believe that Emma’s asleep, well almost since her feet move back and forth against the floor every so often.

“Where were you huh? What were you doing?” Her words are incredibly slurred and you can barely make out what it is she’s trying to say.

“None of your business mate.” She snickers at you, reading way too much into your response than she should have.

“You got some.” The way your face turns red doesn’t help your case even in the slightest, especially when she herself points out your reddening cheeks.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Em.” Your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, still embarrassed by her insinuation.

“Mhm, you totally got some pussy.” You sigh as she laughs again, she was clearly getting a lot more joy from the situation than you were.

“Go to sleep Em.”

“Mhm.”

Maybe she had been right after all, maybe you had fun and maybe, just maybe the decision to go to the party was a good one. Not that you’d ever let her know that.

#woso x reader #woso #lionesses #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #uconn wbb #wbb x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

[nicksbestie]

Kittens (part two) - M. Sturniolo

READ PART ONE FIRST!! YOU CAN READ IT HERE!

Summary : One specific person becomes a regular at the animal shelter you work at, always visiting the cats <3

Warnings : mentions of anxiety but nothing graphic!

Word Count : 1146

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader

A/N : part two!! this won't become a series but i felt it deserved a little more!! it's written in a later time, a epilogue scene, if you will!

The cats being in a different room that day had been one of the best things to ever happen to you.

You hadn’t known it at the time, but that conversation with Matt, starting by leading him to a separate room, had blossomed into a relationship. Matt had started coming back every day, coming up with stupid reasons to talk to you, claiming he needed help finding a cat that had run away, only for the cat to walk right out from under the tower when Matt walked back in, but you let him do it every time. You felt like you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend time with him, and if you weren’t busy, why should you?

He spent hours there every day, which made you wonder what he did for work, because how could he afford to not be at his job? After a couple of days where he came in one after another, you finally asked. It felt like a fair question because he clearly knew where you worked, so it was an eye for an eye, or something like that. He told you he did content creation with his brothers, and you looked him up later that evening, eyes nearly popping out of your head when you noticed just how famous they were. You weren’t someone who lived in the dark, but you didn’t keep up with every new thing going on, so there were a ton of famous people you didn’t know about. 

You weren’t going to lie, you stalked him that night. One thing hit you like a truck when you noticed it, though. Matt had told you that he came into the shelter when his anxiety was getting bad, and he had been coming in every Wednesday and Friday per week, and as you scrolled through their shared YouTube, you noticed that’s when videos were posted. You wondered how much he enjoyed his job, or if he did it because it made good money, or if the posting just really got to him because he worried about what people would think. Later you would ask, and you would learn that the latter was the reason, and that he really did love his job, it just got to him sometimes, knowing that so many people would pick apart everything he had done or said in a video. 

After about two weeks of him coming back to the shelter every single day, talking to you whenever he could, he finally asked for your number. He waited until you were off of the clock, making sure that he could never be accused of being unprofessional by anyone. He waited until the shelter closed, like normal, and you thought he had left, but he waited until you both stepped outside, and the door was locked, and then he asked. You let him have it with no complaints, and he texted you for the first time as soon as he got home, asking if you had also made it home safe. You responded much quicker than you would like to admit, letting him know you were home and safe. 

He would text you before he would come into the shelter, letting you know that he was on the way, and you two became incredibly close. Hanging out outside of work, spending time while he was at the shelter, if you were in the same vicinity, you were practically attached at the hip. You met his brothers, and they were so different from him that it was refreshing. You loved how they all got along so well, and even their banter in videos wasn’t coming from a true point of anger, but all lighthearted. You watched every video as they got posted, and sometimes all four of you hung out together before or after filming. You loved being in their company, and you had found a wonderful friend in Matt, but you had no idea that it would eventually become more than that. 

You’d hung out so much on your own, you knew you two worked together, you both knew that the other was attractive, you both knew that you liked the other. But you had no idea that it would eventually end up working out. Nick and Chris knew as well, being able to see it in the way that you interacted with each other. They kept it to themselves, allowing you two to navigate the developments of your relationship with each other by yourselves, but both of them were hoping that you would just get your head out of your ass already and get together. Matt was the first one to say anything. 

You knew he found love gestures sweet, you’d seen that in a video, and you’d seen it in the way that he interacted with people he loved platonically, being a gift giver, but when he showed up at your door with flowers, you were still in shock. He’d stayed the night that evening, soaking in the fact that the person he felt so strongly for had the same feelings for him. It had only snowballed in the best possible way from there. You did everything together, you went everywhere together, and sometimes that could cause codependency problems, but you were lucky to not have to deal with that. You were used to him leaving for a couple of hours to film, but he always came back as quickly as possible. 

It was refreshing for Matt to fall in love with someone who didn’t love him for the numbers, for the following, for the money, for the fame. This was someone who saw him off guard, who actually loved him for the person he was off of the camera, for all of the good in him and all of the bad. He wasn’t sure that he would ever find someone like this due to his popularity across the Internet, but he never took you for granted, not for a single moment. And those were the words that spilled out from between his lips, when he was knelt in front of you, ring box in hand, just three amazing years later, and the same ones that he would repeat at the altar six months after that. 

You didn’t work at the animal shelter anymore, but you and Matt were regular visitors and volunteers. Some of the people that you used to work with were still there, and shortly after you were wed, you picked out a kitten together, from the same Cat Cottages that Matt used to sit in for hours every week. Glancing over at the man you’d fallen in love with, sitting on the couch with the now one year old black cat in his lap, you knew that had been the best job you would ever work, and it brought you something much more rewarding than the money.

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo @dazsha19 @patscorner @hailee22sstuff @tworosesblackthorn @h3arts4harry @getosuckers @knhxa @scoobydoosnack @tapesmatts @st7rnioioss @st7rnioiossblog @jamiesturniolo @sofie-1

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt x y/n #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo headcannons #matthew sturniolo x y/n #matthew sturniolo oneshot #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

[pineapplecrushface]

WIP Tuesday

Something about Buck and Eddie hugging for the first time in like four years made me think about how affectionate Buck is and then this happened.

“Does it feel weird to you?” Eddie asked when Buck had returned with more beer. “Not weird. Different, I mean.”

“What, being with a guy?” Buck tipped his head back and forth in a so-so gesture when Eddie nodded. “Sometimes. I keep catching myself feeling like I’m not supposed to like something, and I have to train myself to stop.”

“Like what?” Eddie asked before he thought it through. He held up a hand. “No intimate details.”

Buck laughed, his entire face going pink. He ducked his head and took a sip of beer. “Well, that is part of it. But no, it’s more like…he, uh, he calls me baby. And he holds me. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that, because I’m bigger, right? And the women I’ve dated, they liked that I was bigger and stronger than they were. And I’m discovering I kinda like that too. But.”

“But it feels like you’re not supposed to like it,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. So there’s a lot of arguing with my own stupid hang-ups.” Buck sighed. “I really didn’t think I had that many. Not about masculinity or whatever.”

Eddie hummed, not quite in agreement, thoughtful. Would he feel weird about it if a guy held him? Probably a little. He wasn’t very physically affectionate at the best of times, although he found it easier after he’d been dating someone a while. Really, he’d only ever been perfectly comfortable touching a few people. Chris, of course, after the awkwardness of figuring out how to hold a baby. Shannon, when they weren’t fighting.

And Buck. He was very comfortable touching Buck, so there was at least one guy he wouldn’t feel totally weird about being held by. For a moment he imagined the two of them wrapped around each other and it warmed him so much he smiled down at his beer—he could almost feel it, Buck throwing his whole body into it and tucking his face into Eddie’s neck like he did when they hugged. But it would be longer than a hug, and they’d relax into it, breathe each other in. Breathe easier, probably, because they wouldn’t have to pull away. Buck would mumble Ten minutes until we have to pick up Christopher, and Eddie would rub his cheek on Buck’s neck and say You can fall asleep if you want to, baby, I’ll wake you up—

He just barely managed not to twitch so hard he spilled his beer.

“You okay?” Buck asked, leaning forward on his elbow and licking beer from his lips. “You were zoned out pretty hard.”

“No, it’s,” he said, looking around and patting himself down to feel for his phone, wallet, keys. “Uh. I just realized I have to go pick up some stuff for Marisol. A project. She has a project she’s working on and I forgot.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; Marisol did have a list of things she’d asked him to pick up at the hardware store, but she wasn’t starting until Saturday. Buck gave him a skeptical look like he knew her renovation schedule better than Eddie did—and knowing Buck, he probably did—but only nodded.

“See you later,” Eddie said, throwing him a distracted wave and fleeing—actually jogging, running away from his best friend, until he was in his truck and panting and shaking his head because he did not run.

Hmm. You kinda do though, he thought, and it was Buck’s voice, and he was right. He ran and would continue to run because this, this wasn’t a thing he needed or wanted. Right? Right.

But he couldn’t help but poke at it one more time to make sure.

Buck. Buck’s big body around him, his big warm hands sliding down Eddie’s back, Buck laughing against his lips, giving him every bit of his endless reservoir of affection and love. Buck loving him.

 Eddie scrunched up his face and clenched his hands in the air before he smacked the steering wheel. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, it’s fine,” he said, smoothing his hands over the steering wheel like it was mad at him. Everything was fine. He didn’t have to think about it. He was in control of his own emotions. He was not a guy who was in love with his best friend. He was a guy who could compartmentalize and ignore uncomfortable things until they went away.

And eventually blew up in his face. But that was for future Eddie to handle. He had Frank and several excellent coping strategies and Muay Thai with his best friend's boyfriend who got to touch him all the time. It was fine. He was fine.

#911 #fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie

[comfortless]

this thought has been running around in my head for weeks and your König hcs are my favorite… so here i go

what icks do you think our König has? ik he may consider himself to fall in the “beggars can’t be choosers” category but i am just so curious… 🤔

FAVORITE?! 💞 you are so correct about the “beggars can’t be choosers” mentality. König is very much aware of how other people tend to view him as some creepy, stupid brute. i think that there is certainly a lot that bothers him, mostly attributed to his past, but none of it is an actual dealbreaker in any sense. you’re likely to be met with a cold shoulder and a bit of trust diminished at most. the majority of his “icks” are just him picking up on red flags. the gross or awkward things are just cute to him!

A very “vapid” approach to interests and such is going to make him concerned. König does not understand trends, or liking something simply because someone else does. He equates keeping up with pop culture and fashion as being similar to the children that tortured him in the past (So: popular kids with popular hobbies). Authenticity is held in high regard here. The stranger and more alienated that you are, the more compatible and similar you two may be in his mind.

This said, König would go feral seeing you in one of those pretty dresses or outfits that are all the rage. Dressing like a cute milkmaid for a picnic date, playing some sweet love song for him that you may have picked off a viral video, etc. He’s not exactly in touch with these things so he’s no proper judge or jury here.

Being too pushy. There’s a fine line there that’s not to be crossed. He much prefers playing the role of a leader rather than being a submissive follower. He’ll boast about being your devotee, worship like a dog at your feet, but he likes to feel in control of the relationship and what goes on within it.

He’ll never tell you directly that yes, his anxiety will be gnawing at his guts if you plead with him to come along with you to a commonly crowded mall, and expects that a simple rejection should suffice. It’s likely he would keep hushed about the fact that your frustrated pleading actually turns him on, too.

Being unnecessarily cruel. The man gets cruelty, he’s paid in abundance for it. But women should be sweet and soft. If you’re talking poorly about another person, using words like “ugly” or a slur of some kind, how are you any better than some bully? It does not matter that the victim can not hear you speaking about them, what matters is that he can. It would send him into a spiral of thinking that each time you two have had an argument, you’re likely cruelly chattering about him to your friends afterward.

Yet… he is very much the type to shoot an inept employee a glare and make demands. He will call his fellow operators all sorts of things when he returns from a mission gone wrong. König is the king of double standards here.

By extension, dogging him/his work/his interests is sure to bother him. König likes to believe that he’s done the work to make himself more pleasing now: trained his body through the military to give himself the stature women seem to drool over, covers what he can of his face when it’s socially acceptable so that others don’t harp on an unpleasant glimpse, even thinks of himself as some sort of chivalrous gentleman (very easy to do so as no one gets a peek at what goes on in his mind). His work, not therapy, is where he gets to blow off steam in a justifiable, honorable way. Sure, he’s got some dorky, juvenile interests, but they’re things that he enjoys.

Talk of previous relationships/sex would immediately make his blood boil! Even if it’s said to assure him that he’s better than a former lover. He’s just very jealous and if he were to be blunt, he would tell you he is addicted to the relationship and doesn’t want to think of anyone else ever having what he does currently. It’s best not to mention any past you may have had unless you care to answer a series of questions. “Were they better in bed?”… “Full name?” … “When did you last see them?”

Ironically, if you already have children, he would absolutely adore the stepdad role. It’s not so much as a challenge, then, only the glee that comes with getting to play savior for more than one person.

Infidelity. Whether in a past relationship or in a current one with him. The thought of you ever cheating on him, emotionally or physically, would tear him apart. Something as simple as a fantasy of wanting two or more men to serve you is filed messily in his brain with this, too. Same with you confessing to finding another man attractive, whether a celebrity, someone entirely fictional, or even some random civilian padding by on the sidewalk. All of that counts as some minute form of infidelity to König. He does not share.

He’s guilty of threesome fantasies, guilty of staring down a woman that he finds attractive… he just doesn’t act on these things, holds his tongue and huffs that he certainly wasn’t looking and would never want to fuck any one other than you. It does not really occur to him that those things are normal, especially in long term relationships.

Bear in mind that this is all from a man who almost entirely lacks shame. He’s comfortable with himself now (somewhat). He has no qualms with chewing the skin around his fingernails when he’s stressed out, picking his nose in front of you, shitting with the bathroom door wide open, or talking with his mouth full when he’s just that engaged in a conversation. I think it’s only fair to include some of the things he does that may be repulsive!

Absolutely clueless when it comes to seeing you cry. He has no idea how to comfort someone properly as he never really had that. His solution seems to be hovering over you and asking a thousand questions or just draping himself over you and letting your arms curl over him for comfort.

Would kiss you with his eyes open. Not his fault that you’re so pretty and he doesn’t want to miss a moment of it. Not always, but once is bad enough.

Would absolutely send you an “I miss you” text the day after your first date. Will also tell you that he’s in love with you the first time you have sex.

Will get hyperfixated on historical weapons and will absolutely purchase some rusted, ancient relic without telling you beforehand. It gets well polished and loved, then displayed on your living room wall.

Loves talking about his kills. He’s proud, because if there’s one thing that he’s good at it’s knowing where to shoot or stab or punch. He knows to hold his tongue about the more grisly details around someone delicate, but more often than not he is prone to slip-ups.

Will use your toothbrush without asking.

Thinks he’s very skilled and very cool because he can trim up any overgrown facial hair with a pocket lighter. It is not cool. There’s a razor and shaving cream right there. He may not burn himself, but it’s not exactly pleasant to have your bathroom smelling of burned hair.

Does not have a lick of fashion knowledge. Plain t-shirts, jeans, combat boots, maybe a belt if he cares to bother with it at most. At the least, when he’s at home, you can expect him to indulge in some nudist fantasy because it’s unlikely he will bother to wear a thing. Maybe socks.

#kö headcanons #this was super fun actually heheh #he can be a little gross as a treat! it is cute…

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

PLEASE POST THE IZZY PART FOR THE NO NUT NOVEMBER

A/n: Only one more of these to make B). This was going to be much shorter but it felt weird to make one really short when the other's are longer so I just kept going and I like this ending much more than the other one and I hope you agree, Izzy lovers are honestly the best kinds of people.

Warnings: smut, oral sex(f+m receiving), fingering(f receiving), degradation, drugs, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Intro

Izzy left the studio with not much care. So long as he wasn’t the first out no one would care, right? Besides, all he really wanted was to stir the pot as per usual, and he did it like a pro. That’s all there was to it. He went on with his business and didn’t think too much about it.

Or so he thought.

He wasn’t doing anything with anyone, staying home more often than not and if he wasn’t he was getting cracked out of his mind at parties where that’s all anyone was doing, no one was getting ready for some action.

His stash was running low so he invited some people over, hoping to fix off of them. When people started showing up and getting loaded he happened to notice someone he’d never seen before.

He asked around and someone eventually gave him something. A friend of a friend of a dealer. Izzy didn’t think too much of it, someone else just trying to get high like him, what’s there to it?

Only, he kept catching her watching him.

At some point he’d gone to the bathroom to snort something alone. He’d just started when you came in and closed the door behind you. He gave you a look. “Sorry, I’m not sharing.” He mumbled.

“I’m not into that stuff.” You responded as he snorted another line. He looked back up at you with a confused expression.

“Then why are you here?” You shrugged and looked up to the fluorescent lighting.

“I’m into other stuff.” Izzy nodded.

“Smack?” He asked, looking at your arm for any track marks. “Heroin?” You took a step closer to him. “Come on, give me a hint, at least.” He asked with a wonky smile. You chewed your cheek and dropped to your knees, looking up at him with innocent starry eyes.

When Izzy saw that he was reminded of the bet. Now, he wasn’t ready to say no to a face like that but he wasn’t ready to forfeit either. Tough decision.

“Sorry, I can’t, my friends and I have this bet-”

“What kind of bet?” You interrupted.

“To see who can last the whole month without, like, doing anything.” He chuckled to himself at how stupid it sounded in his mind.

“Would you be the first one out?” Izzy let out a heavy breath at that and shook his head. All he wanted was to stir the pot and not be the last one out, right now it was just him and Slash. Oh shit, he was in the finals! He hadn’t thought about it that way. “Then what’s the big deal?” Izzy sucked his bottom lip and stared down at you, trying to think through the haze in his mind.

You stayed on your knees, looking up at him and watching for a reaction as you lifted up his shirt. Just enough so you could see his happy trail and press your plush lips to his abdomen. That pretty much killed any thought Izzy had against this.

As you kissed him he undid his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, hitting you in the face with his dick. You happily took the tip into your mouth and started swirling your tongue around it while your hand came up to stroke him.

He was already leaning against the counter behind him for stability when you took more of him into your mouth, getting yourself used to him hitting the back of your throat before taking him all in your mouth, gagging slightly on his length.

Izzy’s head was thrown back  in pleasure as your head bobbed up and down on him. You started touching yourself through your clothes, getting off on Izzy’s pleasure. When you started moaning around his member he couldn’t help cum, the vibrations sent him over the edge. He grabbed you by the back of the head  and pulled you down on him as he shot his load down your throat, guttural groans slipping past his lips.

When he was done he let go of you and let you pull away to catch your breath. You wiped your mouth and chin of the drool that had slipped out the corners of your mouth.

Izzy tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. “Did you swallow it all?” He asked with a lazy grin. You smiled up at him and opened your mouth wide to show you had. “Good girl.”

Having lost the bet already there was no point in looking back now. He gestured for you to get up and you did, now standing in front of him. He brought his hand to your waist and guided you to the counter where he could bend you over, lifting your skirt over your ass to give him a perfect view of you.

You were wearing a thin pair of panties and fishnet stockings. Izzy admired you for a moment before gripping the fishnets and snapping the weak threads holding them together, making a bigger opening for him. He pinned your panties to the side and thrust into you, your cunt already soaked.

He waited a moment, taking in how hot you felt wrapped around him, the face he could see you making in the mirror. He started moving, watching your face for a reaction he liked and when he saw one he knew to keep hitting that spot.

Of course it had your mind running miles a minute. The way his tip kissed that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars over and over again. His hold on your hips was tight, sure to leave bruises for you to look back on with fond memories.

Your favourite were the soft grunts and groans you’d hear in your ear. Heavy breaths mixed with the occasional moan. He was watching you in the mirror but you were also watching him as his head rolled back, you’d catch glimpses of his eyes crossing before he shut them tight.

Izzy took a hand off your hip to turn your face towards him so he could kiss you. His tongue slipped past your lips with ease. Your moans fell onto his lips as you came hard around him, slick dripping down between your thighs. The way you clenched around him was the last straw for him and he came again inside of you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck.” Izzy breathed, kissing you one last time before pulling away and watching his cum ooze out of you. He dropped to his knees and started lapping at your folds.

“Fuck!” You squeaked and tried to push his head away but he didn’t budge. “Izzy! Izzy, s’too much.” You whined. He responded with a harsh slap on your ass, leaving a pink mark. He continued eating you out like his life depended on it, sucking every ounce of your dignity you had as you watched yourself in the mirror. Your face contorting in pleasure, your hips bucking back to meet his face.

He pushed a skilled finger into you, making you cum with only a few pumps as he hit that same special spot every time and sent you over the edge.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?” He mumbled as he stood up again behind you, now holding you and resting his head on your shoulder. “Sneaking into my house, getting me into the bathroom, sucking me off when I told you I couldn’t...” He had this smirk as he spoke, it was tired but carried a very needed amount of teasing.

“You could’ve stopped me if you wanted to.” You replied in an equally tired manner, leaning back on him slightly.

“I didn’t want to.” He said firmly, giving your neck a soft kiss.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #guns n roses imagine #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin gnr #izzy stradlin smut #izzy gnr #gnr #gnr fic #gnr smut #gnr x reader #gnr fanfiction

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!ReaderSynopsis: you and Percy make up, and head out to the beach together !! Warning(s): cursing Word Count: 1911 A/N: Percy and the beach, yummyyyy😋

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt6

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

If there was one word to describe how Percy felt, it was stupid. He'd completely messed things up with you, and now he felt like shit. He was currently having lunch with Jason, Leo and Charles, whilst complaining about his problems to them.

"Dude, whats she saying about me," he asked.

"That your an asshole," Leo said.

"And some other words we don't feel comfortable repeating," Charles added.

"And how did you manage to mess it up that bad," Jason chuckled and Percy just groaned.

"She was drunk, what was I supposed to do??"

"Dude, she's embarrassed. She tried kissing you and you sat there like a deer in headlights," Leo stated like it was the obviously. It kinda was to be fair.

"Well if we want to get technical," Percy held up his finger like he was about to make a point. "We were technically behind the headlights, not in them."

"But if I smacked the shit out of you, suddenly I'm a villain," Leo held his hands up in surrender, and Percy just glared at him.

"Dude, just try apologizing or something," Charles pleaded. At the end of the day, if Percy doesn't make it work with you, then Charles has no Silena.

"Yeah, but um, there's just one more thing I have to take care of then," Percy stood up and walked over to where Luke was sitting with his friends. "Yo, Luke."

He called out and Luke stood up with Percy, moving to speak in private. "Whats up, not here for more money are you?"

"No, the opposite actually," Luke looked at Percy confused. "I don't want you to pay me anymore, I'm done."

"What do you mean you're done?? I haven't taken Silena out yet."

"I don't care, I'm out, do what you want with Silena, but our deal is off. And if she likes you, then your already set anyways," Percy waved off a complaining Luke and went to go find you.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

"Guys are dicks and I hate them," you complained to Piper.

"You just noticed?"

You glared and she just made a face at you. "But seriously, what is his problem??"

"I could probably help you if you ever, you know, told me the problem."

You were kind of embarrassed about it but said it anyways. "It's just, after all these days of trying to take me out, I go in to kiss him and he just sits there?? Like what the hell is that???"

"Weren't you totally wasted? And he like, wasn't?" You slowly nodded. "Don't you realize while you were taking shots on shots he stayed sober and followed you around, and even took you home once he noticed how drunk you got. Of course he didn't kiss you, that'd be, you know, weird??"

You just rolled your eyes. You're a stubborn woman to say the least, so you didn't want to admit she was right. "Whatever."

She chuckled as you both parted ways. You were walking towards the bathroom before class, when you suddenly felt someone pull you by the arm. Before you even had the time to scream you were in janitors closet.

"Who the fuck do you think you are," you turned around and saw Percy standing in front of you. "Oh my fucking god."

You face palmed as Percy started. "Hi."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Really? Because if that's it, I'll be on my way then," you tried to shove him out the way and leave, but he was stronger than he looked. Actually, he did look kind of strong, but that was besides the point.

"I mean it. I didn't want to embarrass you but you were literally wrecked, and I thought you'd hate me if I did anything. Guess either way you would've just hated me or something, I don't know. But look, I'm sorry."

You appreciated the apology, you supposed. "I don't hate you," you said lowly.

"Hmm," you were about to repeat yourself when you saw that smug look on his face, letting you know he definitely did in fact, hear you.

"Don't push your luck, Jackson," you pointed in his face.

"είσαι πολύ όμορφη όταν δεν με θέλεις να πεθάνω, ξέρεις."

"I'll figure out Greek one day, just you wait. I'll find out all the mean things you've been saying to my face," you laughed.

"I'm not insulting you. In fact, I never was."

"Well.. what are you saying then," you asked, and Percy just stared down at you, wondering whether what he was thinking would be a good idea or not. He decided to just stop thinking about it as he held your face and just kissed you.

When he pulled away, all he said was, "Like I said, nothing mean."

He went to walk out but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving. "Percy.. are you busy later?"

"I may or may not have detention after school," You raised your eyebrow. "I just didn't want to got to math. Shucks."

"Yeah, shucks." It got quiet. "I'll see you later though, right?"

"Right," he smiled, this time letting you through the door. When he followed behind you, he tried ignoring Leo peering out from the end of the hallway as he made his way to class.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

As fast as the school day started, now it was over. Well, not for Percy, who was currently stuck in detention, how fun. Percy was supposed to be writing an essay about why he was in detention and what he could do in the future to prevent him from coming back, but he was just drawing dicks all over his paper, chuckling to himself.

"No noises," the detention supervisor, or soccer coach, shouted out. Percy rolled his eyes, then he heard the door opening, and saw you walking through.

"Hey coach," you greeted as you walked toward the front of the room.

"Sorry Y/N but I'm a little busy," he huffed out as he turned his back towards the class and shuffled through some papers. As he did so, you turned over to Percy, signaling him. to make it over to the window by where the coach was currently facing. Outside the window was a ledge Percy could climb down from, giving him a release from detention. Except you may of whispered to loud, catching the attention of your coach.

"Well, um. I'm just here to talk about some strategies for next game," you said. Thinking of lies on the spot were actually kind of hard.

"And um, what is that?" He was now facing away the window, and Percy was slowly making his way towards it.

"I'm just giving you an idea, something off of what you told us. You know, the diversion plan."

"I taught you that," he questioned as he began to look around the room, but you stopped him by grabbing his face, before he notice Percy, or the lack of Percy.

"Yes you did. Basically we need to be there," you turned his head slightly one way, "Then making the other team turn the other way," you turned his head again and this time letting go.

"And how would we make them turn-" Percy made too much noise when opening the window. "What-"

So you used your last idea, "Like this!" You lifted up your top, no bra. Whoops! Hey, it worked, except Percy almost stopped before coming back to his senses and leaving through the window, finally. "Well, thank you for your time, it was duly appreciated."

You held your head down and laughed as you left the cheering classroom (yes, you have nice boobs, don't even girl), running to catch Percy outside. By the time you reached the front of the school, you were out of breathe. You saw Percy sitting down on the steps as you took a seat next to him.

"Nice 'diversion,'" he joked, caused you to softly punch his arm.

"What? Thinking on the fly is hard."

"S your best idea was to flash your tits to your coach?"

"You know what, if you want to stay here you go do that," you joked as you walked toward your car. Percy just laughed as he followed you.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

"Parlez-vous anglais," Charles read from his book, and Silena repeated back. They were practicing pronunciation as Charles spoke and Silena repeated.

"Est-ce que tu vas un jour me lever et m'inviter à sortir," Silena spoke up, somewhat agitated.

"What," he started flipping through his textbook. "I don't remember reading that."

Silena just rolled her eyes and walked off, leaving behind a very confused Charles.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

'ugh why can't boys take hints'

You laughed at your phone as Silena complained about Charles. Right now you were waiting downstairs in your car while Percy ran up into his apartment to grab a pair of swim trunks. After sneaking him out, you guys spent about an hour an half just driving around, doing nothing in particular. As the sun started to go down, Percy got the idea to eat down by the beach.

You were knocked out of your laughter when Percy banged your window.

"Hey there," he said as he sat back into the passenger seat. You just started driving back to your place for your own swimsuit, thankfully your dad was home to stop you. You grabbed a purple bikini and ran back to your car. "Finally, I'm starving."

"Yeah yeah, slow it down bigback you'll be fine,' you clapped back. You guys made your way to the closest dominos and bought a pepperoni pizza and some cinnamon bread twist (Percy's Treat!!). The smell alone made you want to salivate.

Finally making your way down to the basically empty beach, you laid down a towel as Percy placed the food down. You were both talking and laughing as you watched the sun set into the horizon. You both laid back and watched the sky fade as Percy turned toward you.

"Can I ask you something," he asked.

"Yeah?"

"How come.." he paused, as if trying to find the right words. "you know, you act the way you do?"

"Why I act like this?"

"Not in a bad way of course, but you aren't the friendliest at first, you know. Well yeah you know."

You chuckled, "I don't like doing what people want of me, or expect of me. Being like everyone else is so boring. Why live up to their expectations instead of my own."

"Makes sense, I supposed."

"He supposes," he rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"Go ahead."

"What happened those eight months you went missing?"

He was quiet and you didn't know if you had taken it too far. "I don't know. Its like I was just asleep and woke up with.."

You tilted your head as he sat up and lifted his shirt. He was covered in scars. "Woke up with these," he finished.

You sat up close to him, and without even realizing it you started tracing them with your fingers. "Sorry, that must've been terrifying."

"Yeah, but it's okay, I guess. Not like I know what happened anyways," he grabbed your hand and held it. You looked up at him, and even in the moonlight, those sea-green eyes still sparked like the sun was beaming. And this time, you were the one who leaned in and kissed him. This really did make up for Friday night, huh.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

✰είσαι πολύ όμορφη όταν δεν με θέλεις να πεθάνω, ξέρεις - you're very beautiful when you don't want me to die, you know ✰Parlez-vous anglais - Do you speak English ✰Est-ce que tu vas un jour me lever et m'inviter à sortir - Are you ever going to stand up and ask me out

✰Taglist: @liviessun @lara20aral @balletfilmss @job-ross-the-second @brokecollegebitch @riaaavm @avihashearts4lix @huera-ne @zn0v1a @sofiacblair @itzjustj-1000 @that1nerd-20 (just lemme know if you wanna be added)

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #silena pjo #silena beauregard #charles pjo #charles beckendorf #charlena

[gardenschedule]

Perceptions of Paul as calculating & John's paranoia

“McCartney’s mistake, which he now admits, was to seem invulnerable. […] And yet, he says, the contrast between himself and Lennon, so assiduously cultivated by journalists, was a fabrication. “I wasn’t brilliant at school. I was trouble, just like John. I got caned practically every day, and the only exam I ever passed was Spanish. John and I weren’t black and white, although people took John, for all his aggression, to be the good guy, because he showed his warts. I’ve only just realized, after all this time, that people like to see warts. It makes them sympathetic. I’d always though that, in order to be liked, you had to be unwarty.””

Living with The Beatles’ legacy, the smears that Lennon left behind… and the battle to win my babies back, The Times Newspaper, Monday January 4, 1982.

Paul was the easiest to talk to. He had such energy and such keenness and, unlike John, enjoyed being liked, at least most of the time. I don't see this as a criticism; John himself could be very cruel about Paul's puppy dog eagerness to please. The irony was, and still is, that John's awfulness to people, his rudeness and cruelty, made people like him more, whereas Paul's genuine niceness made many people suspicious, accusing him of being calculating. Paul does look ahead, seeing what might happen, working out the effect of certain actions, but he often ends up tying himself in knots, not necessarily getting what he thought he wanted. I think there is some insecurity in Paul's nature, which makes him try so hard, work so hard. It also means he can be easily hurt by criticism, which was something that just washed over John.

Hunter Davies, Western Mail: The Beatles. (April 9th, 2004)

Even Paul’s immaculate manners could not thaw her. ‘Oh, yes, he was well-mannered–too well-mannered. He was what we call in Liverpool “talking posh” and I thought he was taking the mickey out of me. I thought “He’s a snake-charmer all right,” John’s little friend, Mr Charming. I wasn’t falling for it. After he’d gone, I said to John, “What are you doing with him? He’s younger than you… and he’s from Speke!”’ After that, when Paul appeared, she would always tell John sarcastically that his ‘little friend’ was here. ‘I used to tease John by saying “chalk and cheese”, meaning how different they were,’ she remembered, ‘and John would start hurling himself around the room like a wild dervish shouting “Chalkandcheese! Chalkandcheese!” with this stupid grin on his face.’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

“He always suspected me. He accused me of scheming to buy over Northern Songs without telling him. I was thinking of something to invest in, and Peter Brown said what about Northern Songs, invest in yourself, so I bought a few shares, about 1,000 I think. John went mad, suspecting some plot. Then he bought some himself. He was always thinking I was cunning and devious. That’s my reputation, someone who’s charming, but a clever lad. “It happened the other day at Ringo’s wedding. I was saying to Cilia [Black] that I liked Bobby [her husband]. That’s all I said. Bobby’s a nice bloke. Ah, but what do you REALLY think Paul? You don’t mean that, do you, you’re getting at something? I was being absolutely straight. But she couldn’t believe it. No one ever does. They think I’m calculating all the time.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

In the wake of his death you didn’t tour for most of the ‘80s. People suggested that you were scared to go on the road. Was that true? No. People speculate about anything. They always credit me with motives I haven’t even dreamed of. It’s interesting, the way they sort of perceive my life and analyse it for me. In that case, I never thought about touring much. People used to say, “Oh, it’s 10 years since you’ve toured.” I’d go, “Is it? Y’know, I’m not counting.” That’s all that was, really. I don’t know why. Maybe I didn’t fancy it.

The Q Interview, 2007

Astrid in Germany was always a bit suspicious of Paul at first, though his relationship with Stu was also bound up in this. 'It used to frighten me that someone could be so nice all the time. Which is silly. It's ridiculous to feel at home with nasty people, just because you feel that at least you know where you are with them. It's silly to be wary of nice people.'

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

Paul is the easiest to get to know for an outsider, but in the end he is the hardest to get to know. There is a feeling that he is holding things back, that he is one jump ahead, aware of the impression he is giving. He is self-conscious, which the others are not. John doesn't care, either way, what people think. Ringo is too adult to think about such things, and George in many ways isn't conscious. He is above it all.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

Paul today is still the public Beatle, giving interviews at fairly regular intervals, being open and honest about himself and his past, his worries and his pleasures. Naturally, as ever, there are people who suspect his motives, putting him down for being too charming. Paul may be a bit of an actor, acting the part of Paul McCartney, the charming superstar, still loved by every mum, which can make him sound rather prissy at times, but I believe he does tell the truth about himself.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

“My problem is to me, I come over as this very together guy, always got his finger on top of everything: the man with no problems. School – a doddle, got all the exams. This is the sort of image of me. Actually, I had murder getting through exams, like I was saying about being on tour during my GCEs. I was like the kid who was getting the cane. Just like John was, but he [Phillip Norman] makes me the very shrewd, always-going-to-succeed guy, and John is the kind of cute, working-class hero. In actual fact though, John was just as shrewd and ambitious as I was. What does me in is he adds to this image I’ve got; I resent that, because I know I’m not that, and I know I’ve never been that.

Paul McCartney’s thoughts from 1983 on Phillip Norman’s ‘Shout!’

The funny thing is, when Apple [started], everything was laid out on the table, it’s like a Monopoly game. We saw who had what. I suddenly had more Northern Song shares than anybody, and it was like, oops, sorry. John was like, “You bastard, you’ve been buying behind my back.” John saw everything like a Harold Robbins movie, you know, which it was. He’s not incorrect. I couldn’t get over the fact that we were really involved in all this. I think to this day, he’ll not understand. I don’t think he would accept right now, my naïveté in it. I think he still suspects me of trying to take over Apple. He still suspects that when I offered the Eastmans as [managers] instead of Allen Klein, he naturally assumed that I would be taken care of better than the others, and that the Eastmans could never be moral enough to be equal in their judgment and do the Beatles’ thing rather than Paul’s thing. I think they still suspect to this day.

The point I was trying to illustrate is that it wasn’t so much John being a bastard as it was his being suspicious towards me, always being suspicious towards me. There was Northern Song shares. And I swear on any holy book you want, I know he won’t believe it, but I know for sure that I didn’t buy them with the view to— If I was really trying to do it, I could have bought an awful lot more. So it does hurt a little bit that there’s someone who still thinks, like, I’m out to get them, or that I always was. That’s one of the nice things about it— It’s a pity [I never said to John, “Fuck off, I’m not trying to do it”—and never was]. But he knows I was kind of— We were behind the scenes, and we did a few little [things] that we had to do, and our ambitions, and it was never a kind of terrifying skeletons in the closet. It was always just normal—but, uh, they …

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

SG: Were the other Beatles anti-Linda? PMcC: Uh, yeah. I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko. But you know John and Yoko, you can see it now, the way to get their friendship is to do everything the way they require it. To do anything else is how to not get their friendship. This is still how it is with John and Yoko. I know that if I absolutely lie down on the ground and just do everything like they say and laugh at all their jokes and don’t expect my jokes to ever get laughed at, and don’t expect any of my opinions ever to carry any weight whatsoever, if I’m willing to do all that, then we can be friends. But if I have an opinion that differs from theirs, then I’m a sort of an enemy. And naturally, paint myself a villain with a big mustache on, because to the ends of the earth, that’s how they both see me. They’re very suspicious people [John and Yoko], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

I was never out to screw him, never. He could be a maneuvering swine, which no one ever realized. Now since the death he’s became Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn’t him either. He wasn’t some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker. “For ten years together he took my songs apart. He was paranoiac about my songs. We have great screaming sessions about them.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

SALEWICZ: Oh, he was presumably very paranoid. PAUL: I think so. I mean, he warned me off Yoko once. You know, “Look, this is my chick!” ’Cause he knew my reputation. I mean, we knew each other rather well. And um, I felt… I just said, “Yeah, no problem.” But I did sort of feel he ought to have known I wouldn’t, but. You know, he was going through “I’m just a jealous guy”. He was a paranoid guy. And he was into drugs. Heavy.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

Miles says, “I think Jane was always a bit irritated by John. Because he was so acerbic and difficult to get on with. And paranoid. He didn’t make life easy. I suppose it’s a sort of rapier wit, but it was usually just plain ordinary rudeness. There was nothing special about it.”

Paul McCartney profile for FAME Magazine (March 1990)

“They [Lennon & McCartney] saw each other again in 1977. The Lennons and McCartneys ate dinner together at Le Cirque, Paul’s favourite French restaurant in New York. John regretted going; it was a loathsome night. Paul and Linda blathered on and on about how perfect their lives were, how they had everything they’d ever wanted, and how they were as happy as they’d ever been. Something very paranoid suddenly occurred to John. Maybe Lorraine Boyle was spying on him for the McCartneys! He woke up the next morning still feeling disturbed; he consulted the Oracle. Swan assured him that Paul and Linda were frustrated and unsatisfied. Their marriage was in trouble, he said, predicting it would break up within the year. Lately Swan’s visions had been astonishingly accurate. Relieved, John began composing a song—a little ditty, really, that would never be released—in praise of the Oracle’s powers. But he still couldn’t understand why Paul and Linda had been together for as long as they had. There appeared to be a psychic connection between John and Paul. Every time McCartney was in town, John would hear Paul’s music in his head.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

JOHN: […..] And he’s (Jagger) goin’ on about “he never calls. Do you think he ever calls? He never calls me. And he keeps changing his phone number all the time… And he’s hiding behind the kid.” I was hurt by it! You know… The fact that… A, I never call anybody. It’s not pride, it’s just that I never, ever have. REPORTER: Why? JOHN: I never call the other Beatles, I never call anybody. They always call me. REPORTER: Why? JOHN: Cos I’m self-involved! I’m paranoid, too. I don’t like phones… There’s nobody on this earth ever got a call from me that isn’t related, probably. Or a very old friend…

Sept 1980 – John

“Yoko was an extremist and was even more intense than John taking any idea or comment of his to the limit. If, for example, he complained about any of his fellow Beatles she would hint that that Beatle had always been an enemy implying that John should never deal with that person again. Her extreme positions fascinated John and help him take his mind off himself but when she became self-involved and paranoid herself -her paranoia usually dealt with her career, her fame and the fact that even though she had always been famous everyone conspired to keep her from getting even more famous- he had no place to turn. His insecurity about his solo career, his childhood, his relationships with the other Beatles, the way the public perceived Yoko overwhelmed him and he became more and more involved with drugs.”

May Pang, Loving John (1984)

John was lucky. He got all his hurt out. I’m a different sort of a personality. There’s still a lot inside me that’s trying to work it out. And that’s why it’s good to see that wedding-funeral bit, because I started to think, ‘Wait a minute, this is someone who’s going over the top. This is paranoia manifesting itself.’ And so my feeling is just like it was at the time, which is like, He’s my buddy, I don’t really want to do anything to hurt him, or his memory, or anything. I don’t want to hurt Yoko. But, at the same time, it doesn’t mean that I understand what went down.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986)

Some three year later, during the making of Abbey Road, Lennon installed a twin bed in the studio so that Yoko, recuperating from a car crash, could survey proceedings and pass comment though a mike he had suspended over her. The other Beatles positioned themselves around the room as best they could. Yoko would later tell Paul that if, for any reason, he’d seemed to be standing too close to her, all hell would break loose when John got her home. Lennon, she said, was ‘very paranoid’ like that.

McCartney by Chris Sandford

But we were actually quite supportive. Not supportive enough, you know; it would have been nice to have been really supportive because then we could look back and say, “Weren’t we really terrific?” But looking back on it, I think we were okay. We were never really that mean to them. But I think a lot of the time John suspected meanness where it wasn’t really there.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Chris Salewicz for Musician: Tug of war – Paul McCartney wants to lay his demons to rest. (October, 1986)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #i wonder how much of their issues were due to john suspecting paul of things that just weren't true #then again maybe paul is secretly an evil mastermind #can't put it past him

[romeavecryst]

Crush Culture˖ ࣪⊹

II. Spill my guts

sum: tsukishima finding himself thinking a bit more of the nekoma manager, maybe looking a bit more into her wont be to bad..

Warnings: Tsukishima being a Cutsie little stalker, cursing, teasing, not really proffered! Mention of past relationship.

(III.)

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

He hated it he hated this feeling, it didn’t help how his teammates would talk about ‘Nekomas pretty manger’ it irritated him how Tanaka and Noya practically drooled over her when they brought her up. What made it worse is when yamaguchi let it slip that he had ran into her in the hallway. The two second years going crazy that he had gotten that close to her.

“Common you don’t even know her name!” Noya groaned.

“Why would I even ask she ran into me.” He said.

Tanaka punched him in the arm “you didn’t even say sorry just walked away, how could you she’s gorgeous.” He complained.

Tsukishimas rubbed his arm rolling his eyes, oh he apologized. Not that he wanted to, remembering the moment making him frown. “Ask Kiyoko, they hugged after the game.” Kageyama spoke up.

The three snapping their heads towards the first year. “You’re so smart!” Noya and Tanaka cried pushing off of Tsukishima.

He found it sad how desperate they were to find out her name, why did they even need it? He thought she’s not even around her it’s not like they’d go out with her. To them she was just a pretty face and that pissed tsukishima off, at lest have the decency to ask her name in person. What made this more dreadful is the he wanted to know her name to, to be truthful he’d looked up their roster and coaching staff but didn’t find a name that would fit her. God maybe he was worse than them for doing that.

“SHE HAS AN INSTAGRAM!” Tanaka yelled.

Tsukishima groaned standing up, walking by his two upper class men he glanced at the phone they looked at scrolling through her feed.

It wasn’t stalking if her account is public right? Tsukishima opening up his phone as he began to walk home only for him to close it and shove the phone back in his pocket. He groaned closing his eyes, “Everything alright Tsukii?” The sound of his best friends voice was heard from beside him.

Tsukishimas eyes met his, “I’m fine.”

Lie. And yamaguchi could tell, “don’t bs me what’s up. I get if you don’t wanna tell me but I’m here to listen.” He shrugged.

He wanted to tell him, he wanted that Nekomas manager had an attitude, how he haters her bratty tone pissed him off. How she was stuck in his head how she barely touched him but her body spray lingerd on him after, how she smelled of coco butter and vanilla. How stupid he felt. How she pulled an apology out of him and it wasn’t even a real one! God she pissed him off. Especially how nervous he got.

He wanted to throw up.

“Tsukii?”

“Why are they so obsessed with her?”

“Nekomas manager?”

“Yeah”

Yamaguchi paused for a moment “It’s Tanaka and Nishinoya, it’s just the way they are. Plus she is pretty.”

“Is that really all? Over them being a bit girl crazy.” Yamaguchi spoke rubbing the back of his neck.

No. Was he jealous! No that’s stupid. “Just don’t get it I guess, I mean don’t you get tired if it? Them always asking you if you have a girlfriend? If you have a crush.” Tsukishima asked.

“Not really, it’s never bothered me. I mean I do like girls but it’s not my whole personality nor do they like me back at times. Just keep to myself.” Yamaguchi spoke thinking about as he talked.

Tsukishima always disliked the concept of crushes, how one shared feelings for another but can’t tell them. The feeling of falling in love yet waiting just to perhaps be rejected? The obsession that came with it always wanting to talk to said person or being with them. How you can ever get them out of your mind. It was lame, it made him feel sick.

“You like someone don’t you.”

Tsukishimas head Turing to look at his friend. “No, I’m not interested in all of that.” He spoke. Truthfully he wasn’t, he no intention of getting a girlfriend or even talking to someone romantically.

Maybe it was the comfort of his bed, how he laid on his back as he opened Instagram again. Typing in the name tag, pressing on the first profile. Yeah she was known that for sure. Scrolling through her feed, learning she’s social, loves her family, and all around loves taking photos of herself, but how could she not she’s pretty. Her face was made for the lens of a camera.

“Really like putting yourself out there huh..?” He spoke to himself, the moment he said that his finger slipped a pink heart popping up on the screen.

“No.”

“Oh shit!” He sat up quickly. It was a photo of her on the beach sitting up on her knees her hands up blocking the sun from her face. He liked a fucking Bikini post from 6 months ago.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” He groaned. What if he unliked it? She still see it. No that was stupid.

The sound of his door opening made if head turn. “Everything alright Kei!” His mother asked.

“Yeah. Im great just people,” he spoke taking a deep breath before talking to him mom again “I’m alright sorry for worrying you.” He spoke. She nodded closing the door.

“No fucking way!”

“What a little stalker.” She spoke softly her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

“Who’s a stalker?”

“Nobody. Some kid I met a little over a week ago.” Yn spoke to her older brother.

He groaned pushing off the doorway. She laughed lightly pressing on his profile. Not a very out there guy hmm.. he had a few post. Her thumb lingered over the follow button, “fuck it.” Pressing it setting her phone down.

The little buzz of her phone making her smirk, peeking at her phone ‘keitsukiishima_07’ followed you back.

She picked up her phone a giddy grin on her face, opening the messages. Oh she was about to give this kid so much shit.

She couldn’t help but laugh, lord he was dry tho.

Tsukishima on the other hand threw his phone on his bed the blonde now standing up, “so stupid.”

Yet when he found himself back in his bed he opened the chat once more, only to close it. No. He’s going to bed. Forgetting about what just happened and going to sleep. If only it was that easy, tossing and turning but he couldn’t sleep, he’d being lying if he wasn’t waiting for another text.

Didn’t matter what it was. But he’d be damned if he text her.

She wasn’t much different, but she waited till the next day.

“Kuroo are we inviting Karasuno to the summer camp?” She asked standing infront of his desk.

He looked up at her his face scrunching “I think.”

“Why-“

“Thank you!” She spoke leaving his classroom.

Maybe she didn’t have to wait as long as she thought to see him. Her summer break go free labored babysitting wouldn’t be to bad. She’d have a first year to pick on.

It was wierd how she found herself back looking at those three post, one of him reading a book somthing his friends probably took, the two other of him on a hike. A taller women, blonde, standing next to him, his mom she guessed how he held her just as close as she did him a half smile on his face. One most would think is fake and forced but it was genuine Tsukishima Kei was a mamas boy.

Her eyes scanned the phone as she continued to look, a notification popping up.

‘Tetsu(hater)😒’

‘Your ex is gonna be at the camp wanted to give you heads up!’

Her once smile dropping. Gross. Common, I mean sure he’s part of a team that’s friends but common. She was thankful for the heads up but she felt sick. He was gonna be there at that camp for 2 almost 3 weeks. God damn it. She could feel tears weld up in her eyes, she hated it. They’ve been apart for over 5 months. And now she had to see his stupid fucking face. It made her sick.

Felt as if she would spill her guts.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu tsukki #hq kei tsukishima #tsukishima kei x you #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

[weaveandwood]

One-Shot: Midwinter in Waterdeep

Gale/Tav | Angst & Pining | Read on AO3

Summary:

After the Netherbrain defeat, she thought her life with Gale was all wrapped up in a neat package with a beautiful bow. Life in the tower with its schedules, routine, and walls ended up not being for her. Over a year later, she finds herself on a job in the city again near the Midwinter Festival, searching faces in the crowd.

She found herself searching faces she passed on the street. None of them were him, of course, but did she want them to be? Had his schedule changed in these many months? She purchased a sweet roll at a food cart, her favorite one he had taken her to almost every tenday. Some things don’t change. She thought once that she could, that she could adapt to living in the city for him, for love, thinking adaptability was her strong point. She was mistaken.

AN: A quick one shot inspired by a song. I don't know if this is a sad AU standalone or if it will work its way into my main fic. I've had this idea rattling in my head for about a week. Nothing but angst and some pining.

She didn't know why she took a job in Waterdeep of all places. It was the one city she wanted to forget about in the entirety of the Sword Coast. Her memories of the place ran the gamut, from the highest, happiest bliss to the lowest, most soul-wrenching sadness. 

“Will you join me in Waterdeep as the newest member of the Dekarios clan?” He asked in the Elfsong Tavern, on one knee, more nervous than he needed to be. 

“This is my tower, welcome to your new home, future Mrs. Dekarios,” he said with a smile, crossing the threshold.  

“Is everything okay? You feel distant ever since Withers’s party, my love.” He had a sad look on his face, knowing the inevitable was coming. 

“Let’s cancel the wedding.” He entered his study, barely acknowledging her.  

She had left not long after that while he was teaching at Blackstaff Academy, a note on the entryway table for when he returned. The silver ring he had purchased for her upon their arrival in the city acting as a paperweight. 

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. 

That was over a year ago. Now, she found herself back in the city after signing a contract for what turned out to be a relatively easy job for some quick gold. Desperate times, desperate measures. Turns out being the “Hero of Baldur’s Gate” didn’t go far outside of Baldur’s Gate. Her contract paid for one more night of lodging, so she went on a stroll from her inn down the main street toward the docks. 

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid. 

She found herself searching faces she passed on the street. None of them were him, of course, but did she want them to be? Had his schedule changed in these many months? She purchased a sweet roll at a food cart, her favorite one he had taken her to almost every tenday. Some things don’t change. She thought once that she could, that she could learn to love living in the city for him, for love, thinking adaptability was her strong point. She was mistaken.

She pulled her thin wool coat tighter around her as she kept walking toward the waterfront. Waterdeep was cold this close to Midwinter. Snow was starting to flurry, people were hurrying around with packages. She turned the corner onto a street lined with large houses, his tower near the very end. 

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid. 

She looked in windows as she walked by, illuminated with the golden light of candles as families and friends got together for celebrations. If she had never left, would she be at one of these parties, laughing as Gale’s arm draped over her shoulders? Would he be regaling everyone with tales of their grand adventure, or of something an apprentice had done at Blackstaff Academy? Would he finish the story by kissing her hand or cheek, as he loved to do in public? 

Had he found someone else? Moved on? A new future Mrs. Dekarios in the tower, one who is best friends with Tara and Morena, slotting into their life with ease and grace, much better than she ever had a hope to? Is he better off not knowing her anymore? 

She didn’t let her thoughts wander to him often, if at all. Tears threatened to form in her eyes - from the memories or the wind she could not say for sure, but she’d blame the wind anyway. The sun was starting to go down, and her inn was in the center of the city. She could handle herself when it came to physical threats, but the cold was getting more and more biting without the sun to lessen its sting. Just a couple more, then I’ll turn around, she thought. The houses down here were so pretty with their decorations. She smiled to herself halfheartedly. This could have been her life. 

She could hear the celebrations from the house two doors down. That would be the one she turned around at, she decided, wanting to attend their celebration from the outside, if only for a moment. She looked in the window from across the street. The front room was indeed full of people, each with drink in hand, laughing and cheering for someone. She laughed to herself as she saw the illusion of fireworks inside the room, setting the room alight with sparkling magic fit for a midwinter celebration. She missed magic. She saw the crowd part, presumably for the subject of the cheers. 

Her eyes widened. Her breathing quickened.

His hair was longer, a little more grey at the temples. He still tied it up halfway. He still had his beard. The creases by his eyes were a little deeper. 

He was looking right at her, frozen, his brown eyes just as wide as hers. 

She turned quickly to make a hasty escape. She knew it was tempting the gods to come down this street, but hadn’t that been the point? Hadn’t she become addicted to the if only during her time in the city?

“Stop!” she heard his voice behind her. She got three houses down before she felt a hand grab hers, stopping her in her tracks. “Wait. Please,” he said, panting.  

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid. 

She turned around.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #gale fic #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale x auroria #my writing #baldur’s gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #I’m actually so proud of this I think it’s my best writing to date #midwinter in waterdeep

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Four

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Four: Safety Drills and Clairvoyants

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki perform a safety drill, and Saiki has to make sure his friends don't get tricked by a fake psychic.

            “Listen up, everyone! There’ll be an evacuation drill today!” announced Hairo.

            “Evacuation drill, huh?”

            “Ha! I’ll be fine. I don’t need to rehearse,” said Nendou.

            “Yes, he does,” whispered (Y/N), leaning over to Saiki. “Yesterday, he walked into the first-year hall and thought it was ours.” They grinned cheekily.

            Saiki sighed. “Of course, he did.”

            “Nendou, you shouldn’t take the drill so lightly,” warned Hairo. “Take a fire, for example! You’re surrounded by hot flames. The smoke makes it hard to see. You have trouble breathing! Now, what’re you gonna do in such a hot and hostile environment?! Can you make a level-headed decision in that situation when you didn’t even bother to participate in the drill?! Preparedness always pays off!”

            “You’re as hot and suffocating as a fire,” said Saiki.

            “Fires are great for making s’mores on a summer night,” said (Y/N), thinking aloud.

            They wouldn’t survive a fire, either, would they? The psychic sighed. For all (Y/N)’s good sense, they lacked it at some critical moments. Yare yare. They’re all so troublesome.

            “Anyway, when the fire alarm goes off, follow the instructions and evacuate to the schoolyard,” said Hairo. He was acting much calmer than he had been a few seconds ago. “This is a mnemonic created by using the initials for the important considerations during an evacuation. ‘SOS.’ ”

            If I remember correctly, it stands for “Slow, Orderly, and Silent.”

            (Y/N) brightened. “I was right earlier! ‘S’mores On Summer nights.’ ”

            Saiki deadpanned even more than usual. That’s not even close.

            “Oh, I get it!” piped up Nendou. “ ‘Save Our Selves!’ ”

            “That can’t be right!” protested (Y/N).

            Do they remember what it actually means?

            “We should Save Others before Snacks!”

            Well, at least they have good intentions…

            “Well, I suppose, but…” said Hairo.

            “Then, it must be ‘Someone! Over here! Save me!’ ” said Nendou.

            “Do it yourself,” said Saiki.

            Kaidou laughed derisively (acting dramatic as usual). “You’re stupid as ever.”

            “What?! Do you know what it means?” questioned Nendou.

            “Hmph, of course, I do,” declared Kaidou confidently.

            “What? Is it ‘Save Others with Superpowers?’ ” laughed (Y/N), obviously joking.

            Nendou laughed. “Good one, pinky.”

            “No! It’s ‘Scorching Oblivion Smackdown!’ ” said Kaidou.

            Everyone was silent.

            “I was just kidding,” said Kaidou, backpedaling quickly. “It stands for ‘Slow, Orderly, and Silent.’ ”

            “Yes, that’s right,” said Hairo. “So everyone, please remember SOS when you are participating in the drill.”

            The PA system turned on. “A fire broke out in the science room on the first floor. Please evacuate.” The fire alarm began to ring.

            “The sound of fire alarms makes me panic,” said Teruhashi.

            “This is important. We should pay attention,” said Saiki.

            “Fire, you need to Stay calm. Open your bag and take out your safety hood, then Stand in line in order of your student number,” explained Hairo.

            (Y/N) walked over and picked their hood up. Since the buttons were directly under their chin, they fumbled with them. Sighing, Saiki walked over and buttoned it correctly. (Well, really he held his hands up and the buttons did themselves, but it was still Saiki making them do so. It counted).

            “Thanks, Saiki!” chirped (Y/N). Their heart fluttered at his help, and they smiled widely.

            “Yare yare. It’s just for helping at the sports festival,” said Saiki, looking away. He didn’t like being in debt to anyone, so helping with buttons would even out the food thing. That was all.

            “Oh, no,” said Teruhashi, frowning down at her hood. “I can’t figure out my buttons.” Saiki will see me in trouble and help! Then I’ll thank him, and he’ll say “Oh, wow!”

            Not happening.

            A swarm of boys jumped to Teruhashi’s side. “We’ll help you, Teruhashi!”

            “We shouldn’t wait around here! The fire could spread,” warned Hairo.

            “If you spend too much time helping me, you guys will…” Teruhashi gasped dramatically and softened her eyes thankfully.

            “She’s right! What is your guys’ plan?” asked Hairo.

            “Sacrifice Ourselves to Save her,” declared the boys.

            “I-I see,” said Hairo.

            Saying nary a word they’d Offer me their help. They’re my love Slaves. Teehee, thought Teruhashi.

            Class 3 lined up by the door and began exiting.

            “Okay! Let’s start evacuating,” ordered Hairo.

            “Oh, shoot, I left my phone in class,” said Tadashi. He began to turn around, but Hairo interceded.

            “Stop, Tadashi! You’re Out of line, Stay in place,” commanded the class rep.

            “He’s trying too hard.”

            “Mhm,” hummed (Y/N), chewing on a snack.

            Saiki almost deadpanned more than usual. They had marshmallows with them. No wonder they kept thinking about s’mores. “I feel like I’m hearing SOS in almost everything now.”

            “That’s a Strange Occurrence, Saiki,” said (Y/N).

            “See? What did I tell you?”

            (Y/N) blinked before smiling. “Whoa, you’re So Observant, Saiki.”

            “Stop it, guys. Obviously a fire drill doesn’t have time for Stupid quarrels,” said Kaidou to Hairo and Tadashi.

            “Right! Great call, Kaidou!” said Hairo. “Let’s continue down the stairs! We’re almost there!” He stopped at the first floor. “What?!” The way was blocked. “Stop! The path leading Outside has been Shuttered?!”

            “Seriously? Come On. We’d be Screwed if this wasn’t a drill,” muttered the discontent students.

            “I wonder if the shutter was closed by mistake,” said Teruhashi.

            “I think it’s because this goes by the science room,” pointed out (Y/N), still munching marshmallows.

            Saiki nodded. How do they manage to be so observant and clueless at the same time?

            “Stay calm. Obviously, there’s gotta be a Solution,” said Hairo. “A solution?” He became serious and introspective. “I see…I now understand the point of this shutter!”

            “I think he finally figured it out, too,” said Saiki.

            “We’re being tested! This is an obstacle!” declared the redhead. “During a fire, Sometimes Obstacles Stance in our way! In other words, to move forward, we must break through this shutter!”

            “Isn’t it made to be tough to break?” asked (Y/N), tilting their head.

            Excepting Saiki, the boys weren’t listening. “Alright then! Let’s break that shuttle!” The grabbed a fire extinguisher and a desk to throw at the barrier.

            “In a real fire, they’d be the first to go,” said Saiki. He glanced over at (Y/N) and their marshmallows. “You might be next.”

            They were blissfully unaware of his comment and just held out a sweet treat to him. “Want one?”

            “…Yes.” Coffee jelly may be his favorite snack, but he liked other sweets, too. Alright, so maybe I’d save you since you bring me dessert.

            Finally, Hairo, Nendou, and Kaidou managed to open a corner of the shutter and let the students pass through. Mr. Matsuzaki was waiting on the other side.

            “So…You wrenched open the shutter and escaped through the front entrance,” observed the gym teacher. “I see…Who would break a shutter?! We just installed it! Are you Simpletons Out of your minds? Do you know what it costs to repair a Shutter?!”

            “We’re sorry!” apologized the boys.

            Geez…This is why I told them…Ah, I guess I didn’t tell them directly. Well, this school doesn’t need an evacuation drill to start with, though. Because…So long as I’m around, Ordeals such as fire Simply will not happen.

            Yare yare. Now I’m doing it.

l

            Throughout the town, the news of the House of Fortune Telling was spreading like wildfire. Apparently, a skilled clairvoyant worked there. People were loving what she said. Whether or not she was correct in her predictions was still unknown, but people kept on going to her, especially curious teenagers.

            “Hmph. How stupid. Fortune-telling is just an illusion created by a bunch of people who pretend to be prophets,” said Kaidou.

            “Wow, it’s pretty rare that you and I agree on something,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) nodded. “I find it hard to believe someone who can actually see the future isn’t being sought out by governments.” They grinned. “But I’m going this afternoon, anyways. I’m curious about what she’ll say, even if it is totally made up. It’ll be fun.”

            “Well, forget that,” said Kaidou, “I have something more important to discuss with you two. Come with me after school today. Have you noticed? I sense a strange aura being given off in this town. I think Dark Reunion is behind it.”

            “Whatever floats your boat,” said (Y/N), “And I already have plans.”

            “That’s just an illusion you created,” said Saiki to Kaidou.

            Saddened, Kaidou walked away. Nendou popped up beside Saiki and (Y/N).

            “Pal, pinky! Have you heard? There’s a fortune-telling shop nearby,” said Nendou.

            “It’s ‘House of Fortune Telling.’ I’m tired of hearing about it already.”

            “Yeah, I know!” chirped (Y/N). “I’m going to check it out later today, ya know, for curiosity’s sake!”

            Looks like I’ll be making sure my friends bothers don’t make bad decisions today.

            If Saiki was being at all observant of his own actions, he’d notice that as soon as (Y/N) was involved, he was way more willing to wade into irritating situations to keep track of his friends. Acquaintances. (Friends).

l

            Saiki, invisible to all, sighed and followed (Y/N) inside the House of Fortune Telling. Kaidou was with them because they had spotted him “in disguise” in line. The inside was made to look like a stereotypical psychic’s shop with a crystal ball, shimmery drapes, lows lights, the whole nine yards.

            “Welcome to the House of Fortune. Please have a seat,” said the fortune teller.

            “O-Okay,” said Kaidou.

            “Alright,” said (Y/N).

            They both sat down.

            “I’m Mikiko Clairvoyance. Nice to meet you,” said the lady.

            (Y/N) tilted their head in confusion at her name. That feels way too on the nose. Like a stage name.

            “On what matter would you like advice today?” asked Mikiko.

            “Umm,” said Kaidou.

            I see. They seem half in doubt, too.

            “Oh, my…I sense a very unusual aura from you, young man!” said Mikiko.

            “What?!” gasped Kaidou.

            “You’re no ordinary person, are you,” asked Mikiko slyly. “Do you have special gifts?”

            (Y/N) watched the proceedings in amusement.

            “And you!” Mikiko turned to the teenager.

            “Me?” (Y/N) pointed to themself.

            “Yes! You’re quite important to someone with gifts, aren’t you?!” questioned the clairvoyant dramatically.

            (Y/N) shrugged and laughed. “Sorry, ma’am, you got the wrong person.” They brushed her off without a second thought. There weren’t many people they wanted to be important to, and having gifts didn’t go into it. Plus, the list wasn’t that long. Their friends, family, Saiki.

            But Saiki’s a friend, so there we go, thought (Y/N) decidedly, brushing the way their mind separated him from everyone else away.

            Wait…important to someone with gifts?! thought Kaidou. Does that mean…me?! A sudden blush overtook his cheeks as he looked at (Y/N).

            Oh, wow. Saiki frowned slightly. He was more annoyed than usual as he saw Kaidou, even though he was just confused, get all flustered because of (Y/N). It just felt so…troublesome

            “Ah…well, perhaps you’re just not aware of it!” covered Mikiko expertly. Not a good target. I should focus on the boy. She turned quickly to Kaidou. “You’re troubled by something! Am I wrong?!”

            “How did you know that?!” gasped Kaidou.

            People without troubles wouldn’t come to a place like this.

            “Let me tell you what it is…” Mikiko carefully gaged what her predictions should be by watching Kaidou’s reactions. “A problem with romance…is not what it is, so an issue with your future and schoolwork…isn’t what’s troubling you, either. So it’s something to do with your friends and relationships!” She nailed it on the third try. “Yes! Your source of trouble is one friends and relationships!”

            “H-How do you know that?!” stammered Kaidou.

            You make it too easy.

            “Most teenagers have that problem,” whispered (Y/N) to Kaidou, but he paid them no mind.

            “Yeah, you’re right. That is the source of my troubles,” said the blue-haired boy. “I’m an assassin known as the Jet-Black Wings who came from a parallel world.”

            (Y/N) sweat-dropped.

            What is he talking about? thought Mikiko.

            I ask myself that question every day.

            “But after I learned the truth about the organization…” rambled Kaidou.

            Mikiko nodded. “I understand.”

            “I’m used to fighting.” Kaidou clenched his fist. “But sometimes I think about my life…I live in solitude…I don’t have anything I can call frie—I mean, comrade.”

            “Aww, I’ll be your friend!” chirped (Y/N), leaning affectionately towards him.

            “A-Ah!” Kaidou squeaked and blushed.

            Saiki’s eyebrow twitched. (Y/N) was too nice for their own good, and Saiki didn’t need Kaidou having any misguided feelings for them. That would be complicated. That was the trouble. Obviously.

            In an attempt to keep his attention, Mikiko said, “But he needs someone to completely understand him! You need a new approach. You should try to understand others.”

            Oh, so she says some decent things, too. Maybe I misjudged her.

            “Also, this will help.” She opened a box which held necklace. “You’ll be fine if you wear this necklace.

            “What’s that?” asked (Y/N).

            “If you wear this, you’ll be able to make friends with one hundred people and with Kento Yamazaki!” explained Mikiko. “If you buy now, I’m willing to offer you the low price of thirty-thousand yen.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and their jaw dropped open.

            “Thirty-thousand yen?!” cried Kaidou. “I-I’ll buy it! But I want to know one thing first. Will this make me friends with Saiki?!”

            A soft smile spread across (Y/N)’s face. “Aww, Kaidou…”

            “If you wear it, that Saiki guy will follow you around saying, ‘Hey, pal,’ ” said Mikiko.

            (Y/N) blanked. “Huh?” There was no way that was happening. Plus, that was Nendou’s line.

            “I-I’ll buy it!” declared Kaidou. He paid without hesitation.

            “Well, well, good luck, now I must see other customers!” Mikiko rushed them out the door to the street. “Next person! Please come in.”

            Kaidou regarded the necklace happily as he walked down the street with (Y/N).

            “If nothing else, it’s…pretty,” said (Y/N). They weren’t sure it would work.

            “Kaidou!”

            Both teens turned around. Kaidou was excited to have his first friend while (Y/N) was just surprised that the necklace might actually do something. They were both let down because it was just Mikiko.

            “I’m giving this back! I had no idea what you were saying was true!” she cried. She shoved Kaidou’s money back into his hands.

            “What? Then what about the necklace?” asked Kaidou.

            “You can have it! I bought it at a street stall for five-hundred yen!” she shouted as she ran.

            “What?!” cried Kaidou, realizing the necklace wasn’t magical.

            (Y/N) patted his back. “Sorry. At least you got your money back. And don’t worry, you’ve already got one friend. Me!” They beamed radiantly.

            “Oh!”

            The pair turned after hearing Nendou’s voice. He had just run into Saiki.

            “Oh, hey, pal! Oh, and you, too, runt, pinky?” asked Nendou.

            Kaidou’s eyes widened. Three of the people he was closest to were suddenly all around him. He gazed in wonder at the trinket in his hands. “So this necklace really is…”

            Saiki sighed.

            (Y/N) grinned. “No, no, Kaidou. Can’t you see? We’re already your friends!”

            Kaidou blushed. “A-Ah! R-Right!”

            Saiki was torn between being annoyed at Kaidou’s flustered state and enjoying how kind (Y/N) was. Those two annoy me, but you—he looked at (Y/N)—I can tolerate you.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #kusuo x reader #kus #kusuo saiki x reader

[lost-decade]

Dance AU + Criminal AU for any fic involving nico?

Thanks for asking! I enjoyed writing this a lot. Vague angsty past brocedes and a bit of Nico/Mick

**

There’s a painting in Nico’s office in Nice, above the desk so he doesn’t have to look at it very often; first thing in the morning and again in the evening when he leaves. A small reminder of where he began. A little needle of what might have been, and what didn’t come to pass. It keeps him honest, that memory.

It isn’t his own exact likeness, the painting, although people always assume it is and Nico lets them. A beautiful boy, eighteen, nineteen maybe, backstage at a theatre perhaps, en pointe, arms outstretched, angel wings folded on his back. In the corner of the painting there’s a mirror, the reflection of a demon’s face, flared in red, eyes glittering. It had been a gift from one of his father’s friends, the summer before he took up his place at Juilliard.

“You are the dancer,” Michael had said, grinning at him as Nico had stared, transfixed, at the image in the frame. “And who will be your demon?” 

Nico had felt honoured, and unsettled, the way he always did when Michael gave him gifts. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the nature of his father’s business, of Michael’s, and wanted nothing to do with either. 

Later he’d found out the painting was a long vanished Wyeth; but he’d already discovered his demon by then.

Or was Lewis the angel?

He’s stared at that painting for hours across the years and still never been able to make up his mind. Sometimes he thinks Michael only gave it to him as a punishment for turning him down, or because Keke broke their business ties, as if he thought Nico would be stupid enough to display it and get arrested or something.

He hadn’t displayed it, not for years. But it’s different now; there’s enough security staff in the building, cameras he can dial into on his phone. If Lewis or another one of his colleagues from Interpol were to somehow make it through to Nico’s office the Wyeth would already be in the vault by then, something legitimate in its place.

He checks his schedule. It’s been a quiet few months, a lull of the sort that he likes to engineer in between big scores. The buyer in Qatar he thought he’d found for the Brancusi had fallen through and now he’s stuck with a quite identifiable sizable brass cock in a warehouse in Amsterdam that he needs to figure out how to sell. He leans back in his leather Eames office chair, hands clasped as he considers his latest distraction. 

* 

It’s salt in the wound, always, returning to New York, to Juilliard. That’s partly why Nico does it. Scene of his dreams before they dissolved. No one in his life now knows why he walks with a cane, just that something happened once upon a time in New York and that when Keke’s prodigal son had returned to Europe all dreams of dancing had been abandoned, the fancy forced aside allowing Nico to take up his mantle in the family business.

He’s made it his own since then, even branching out. The forgery arm that he’d created has proved more lucrative than his dad’s old fashioned brand of thievery; easier to find someone who’s good at painting than it is to break a team of men into the Uffizi in the middle of the night. Still, sometimes he gets lucky with that. Sometimes there are boys who will do anything because they believe Nico might love them, that he even knows what love is, anymore. 

The jet touches down, a car waiting to take him to the opening night of the New York City Ballet’s fall gala. It’s not really Nico’s type of ballet, this one tonight, he prefers the classics but the dancers are undoubtedly skilled. When he was young, having two men dance a pas-de-deux for an actual public performance was unheard of. There’s something about it that twists in his stomach, a memory that he allows only because he knows it makes him stronger. 

Mick is part of the ensemble, talented enough, yet miles away from the skill of the leads, Nico can see it. He watches them again, the principal dancers, the hypnotic motion of their bodies, the love story played out in the fluidity of their limbs. He sees himself, who he was before. Himself…Lewis. The Lewis he thought he knew, not the Lewis who was his enemy. 

His ankle throbs. A gunshot to the achilles does that to you, even so many years later. 

“Can I ask you about this,” Mick says, later that evening when they’re splayed out naked atop the sheets, bodies damp with perspiration. Nico's hotel room of course, not Mick's student digs, no matter how nice they are now. 

Fucking Mick is a delight heightened by just how much Nico knows Michael would hate it. Giving to the son what he had denied the father. Mick rubs his big toe over the scarred mess of Nico’s right heel. None of his other lovers has ever dared to ask that question. Nico admires the bravura. He turns onto his back, sliding a hand down Mick’s taut stomach. Oh to be so young. Nico is in shape, he eats healthily, goes to the gym four times a week, but still Mick’s twenty years feels like a lifetime away, both physically and mentally. 

“My dance partner put a bullet in me,” Nico says, matter of factly. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.” They were learning each other, not the choreography. All along. Learning how to unravel, searching out any weak spots. Maimed but not caught, though. Nico has never seen the inside of a cell. 

Mick winces, rolls over to look at him. “That’s rough.” 

“Tell me about it. But I guess, in some ways we’re still dancing.” He pauses. “So there’s another reason I came to visit you, actually. Do you know the Whitney Museum? There’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

#brocedes #mick/nico #my fic #definitely channelling donna tartt with this one