#I should have had it negative eight minutes ago

[feathers-second-face]

Their dynamic in two sentences.

I'm so normal about them, they're my favorites.

Do not tag as ship.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - fifty-eight | the great outdoors

“Isn’t this better than staying inside?” Mingi asked, taking a deep breath of the fresh air.

He had stopped at a scenic overlook and Dei walked up behind him and hugged him. You huffed and puffed as you tried to keep up. 

“You-- you know,” you heaved. “You know what? Maybe I have asthma. This happens to people who have asthma, right?”

They both turned to find you, hands on your knees and trying to breathe.

“How are you so breathless?” Dei asked.

“Do I play a woodwind? No, I play bass guitar.”

“Good point. You can sit on that rock over there to rest.” 

She pointed at something that was either a very large boulder, or part of the mountain itself, and you didn’t care which it was because all you wanted to do was sit down. 

“Agh!” You sounded like an old man as you sat. “I should have realized that coming out here with two people who were used to dancing and jumping all day would have been a horrible idea.”

Mingi chuckled. “It’ll be good for you though, in the end.”

“In the end? My end is coming right now.”

Dei laughed.

“The white light! I see it! Mother? Father? Little sister Anne? Is that you?”

Dei laughed again.

“I mean it’ll be good overall to get more exercise. You’ll get outside--”

“Like a prisoner taking their constitutional.”

Mingi shook his head with a laugh. “--you’ll have more energy, that kind of thing.”

You nodded, slowly recovering your ability to breathe without struggling.

Dei walked over and handed you her water bottle.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to rest for a bit more?”

“Yes please.”

Mingi started taking pictures of the scenery with his phone. 

You gestured towards him. “Fucking Ansel Adams over here.”

He laughed. “... I don’t know who that is.”

You laughed, harder than he did. He chuckled, self-satisfied.

“Mangi, is that you?” 

The three of you turned to where the voice came from to find someone taking off a face mask and hat.

“Jongho?” You asked.

“Noona, you’re here too.” He smiled

Mingi looked at Dei and pointed to Jongho, “I told you, he doesn’t know how to address his elders.”

Dei laughed. “You say that like you don’t like the nickname.” She turned to Jongho. “Are you out here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I came out to get some exercise.”

“Yeah,” you agreed angrily, “gotta get those lungs stressed.”

He laughed and looked at you pitiably. “Are you okay, noona?”

You nodded and then shook your head in the negative. “My lungs are stressed.”

“We were trying to get her out of her apartment and it turns out she has no endurance whatsoever.” Mingi said.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I can carry you down on my back, if you want.” Jongho offered.

Mingi cut you off before you could answer. “Don’t baby her. She needs to build up strength.”

You pouted. “But why?”

“For--” he squinted at you for a moment “--for general life!”

Dei and Jongho laughed. You sighed and pretended to die - suddenly and dramatically - laying out across the rock.

“Do you think this is the same kind of suffering Prometheus felt?”

“Oh my god,” Dei laughed.

“I didn’t know you could be this dramatic, noona.”

You sighed. “Aren’t we all artists, Jongho? Aren’t we just naturally dramatic?”

You heard him chuckle. 

“Some of us seem to be more dramatic than others,” Mingi said.

You looked up in his direction and saw him, arms folded across his chest and one eyebrow raised. 

“Don’t say that like you’re not dramatic, Min.” Dei said and laughed. 

He looked at her and chuckled, dropping the act.

“Do you think you’ve rested enough?” She asked you.

“Look at me, a pitiable object… please pity me.”

She chuckled.

You sighed heavily. Your windedness had faded a few minutes ago but you weren’t sure if you wanted to start walking just yet. “Ugh… maybe?”

She looked at you sternly. “The sooner we get back to the bottom, the sooner we can leave.”

“Ugh. You’re right. Please just tell me that we’re not climbing up anymore.” “We’re almost there.”

“Ugh!” You flopped back against the rock. “...Ow.”

They all laughed quietly at you.

You sat up and rubbed your spine. “Fine. Let’s go.”

On the way back down - the beautiful, amazing, glorious descent in which you were struggling at least a bit percent less, you and Jongho walked together, following a couple yards behind Mingi and Dei. Jongho had replaced his hat and mask and was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“So,” you said, “you always hike by yourself?”

He nodded. “Helps with endurance. Like Mingi said earlier.”

You nodded. “You probably need that, with the way you sing.”

“The way I sing?”

“At full fucking power.”

He laughed. “It definitely helps.”

“Well, someone who sings only ballads doesn't really need it for dance moves.”

“That’s true, that’s true.” He chuckled.

The two of you walked quietly for a few moments. Maybe it was nice to be outside in the fresh air, trees surrounding you with all their… green. Could air smell green? You were pretty sure the air smelled green, but maybe some of the trees were just fragrant and you didn’t know the word for it. Like if pine had its own smell, what you were currently smelling might be the equivalent of… you looked around and realized you knew nothing about trees or how to tell one species from another. Whatever. Nevermind.

“So how long have you been making mashups for?” Jongho asked.

“Um… I started… maybe the year after I moved to Seoul? So sometime when I was nineteen? So like four…ish years?”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s a long time.”

You nodded. 

He chuckled. “If I scroll back far enough in your channel, will I find the first video?”

“HA! No, it was deleted a long time ago.”

He laughed at your reaction. “Was it that bad?”

“Yes.” You said pointedly. “I had also changed programs a few times and gotten a better grasp on how to organize making a mashup, and the older videos had to go.”

He chuckled.

“Can’t have garbage showing up in people’s recommended when someone clicks on one and Youtube throws my whole backlog at them.”

He laughed. “Can’t have that.”

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[muzligrafia]

breakups can be peaceful and cordial, and i thought this was going to be just that. at first it was "we should live separately so we can heal better", then "i don't think we should be together anymore but i still am here to grow and watch you grow, just separately" and then it somehow today ended up being "i can't even trust you when you say you don't hate me and i can't even be friends with you anymore due to this and that", this and that being things that happeneded both recently and also eight years ago.

i somehow ended up being painted as the sole reason we never worked out, the person who couldn't take accountability, the person who tried to silence the other, the one who did this and that and this and that.

not once during these conversations was it ever said whether you own up to your side of the scale or not. not even once. i owned up to the things i did, i apologized for them, i told you i will work on these things regardless of whatever connection we might have, for my own good. i told you i was sorry. i told you it was never intentional malice from my side. i told you most of the times it wasn't even about you - which was something you couldn't grasp. Every negative emotion I felt, just somehow had to be about you. I didn't even get to have a say about what I feel anymore, because every time I dared to feel anything other than pure, one hundred percent happiness and bliss, it made you feel some type of way, even if it had nothing to do with you. but you apparently "don't do drama" and "don't hold grudges", and yet two minutes pass after we somehow ended our last conversation moderately peacefully just to unleash another set of pettiness on me, because you can't control yourself the way you portray yourself you could, except you're in denial about it.

so at this point, i said what i had to. i told you i'll be here if at any point during your life you feel like you want to talk again. i will not forget the love i had for you, and at some point i'm sure i'll be able to forgive you too.

until then, have a blessed life.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Roswell, New Mexico: Dig Me Out (4x07)

Honestly, really liked this episode!

Cons:

In some ways, I liked it so much that it shed a light on some of the pacing issues this season has had thus far. This felt like the point in which several plot threads were finally starting to find their footing, things moved forward in interesting ways, and I think if I were taking a red pen to this season, we'd want to have hit this point in the story maybe just one episode earlier? Cut away some of the sluggishness and extraneous stuff?

I was so happy to see Rosa again! This is maybe a nitpick, but I wish that the scene at the restaurant had gone a little differently. It felt super hasty for Rosa to get up and storm out after Liz and Shivani were talking science for like... forty-five seconds. It undercut Rosa's attitude in the next scene where she's being all mature and telling Liz to be herself. I would have rewritten that slightly so that Rosa stays at the restaurant but looks visibly uncomfortable/annoyed, and then afterwards when they get back to Rosa's place, says something to Liz about her behavior. That would have felt more mature and less awkwardly extreme. How many times have you actually gone out to a restaurant, sat down to eat, been annoyed by a family member for a minute, and actually got up to leave?

It's so funny to me how Max has become like the only person on the show who's thinking about Alex's role in things... specifically, when Michael is talking about going home, Max is like "uh you have a boyfriend." I'm just petty and selfish and Alex means so much to me, but it bothers me that Isobel didn't also think of Alex when she and Max were discussing Michael's future and his dreams.

Last thing I'll say negatively about this episode: the timeline of this season is BONKERS if you think about it for more than a second. I'm bad at tracking these things, but I'm fairly certain it's been like... less than two weeks since the season started with episode 4x01. This makes sense in some regards: Alex has been missing for say, seven or eight days, and that's well within the bounds of how long he said he'd be gone for his work, so it makes sense that Michael isn't panicked about him. But in other regards, when you think about how little time is passing? Mimi died like... what, five days ago, or something like that? Maria's walking around and reminiscing fondly and talking about her mother being at peace, as if it's been months or even years! And Michael only met Bonnie and Clyde like a week ago, all of this relationship development and wondering about home and the future has happened lightning fast when you really think about it. Max was going to propose to Liz just days ago! Isobel and Anatsa went from "I love you" to their breakup in less than a week! It's just kind of bonkers and poorly paced all around. Probably shouldn't consider it too hard.

Pros:

But as I said, I really enjoyed this episode.

To start with, seeing Rosa really was such a treat. I've missed her terribly this season, but she's living her best life in New York with cool artsy roommates, and it makes me so, so happy for her! I love how she was able to step in and be big-sister for Liz in that conversation. Liz was able to acknowledge that seeing Rosa's success made her feel small, which is an understandable thing that happens sometimes with siblings. And Rosa was able to feel settled in her own accomplishments and also give Liz advice on how to stay the course on the path that will make her happiest.

Max really pissed me off with his decision to give up his powers last week, but I kind of like being angry with him. I like that this feels like a real, concrete thing for he and Liz to clash over. Liz, I felt, could have been a little less self-righteous, and acknowledged that while Max shouldn't have done it without discussing it first, it ultimately should always have been his decision. It's his powers, his body, and Liz's position in that argument was very much "but we need your powers" instead of acknowledging what Max actually wants. BUT, ultimately even if Liz could have handled things slightly better, Max is still so in the wrong for continuing his pattern of unilateral decision making, always trying to be everyone's savior. I like a conflict I can really sink my teeth into. I do wish Max had already learned some of these lessons, but hey. These things take time.

Isobel and Dallas hanging out in the hot tub made me smile! They're so cute, I love how much Dallas fits in with the rest of his alien family. It was so funny when Isobel got all flustered at shirtless Dallas, and also how she made sure to check that he wasn't about to spring surprise feelings on her, the way Kyle did. Then, we get some juicy backstory details for both of them, in the form of flashbacks! It was so lovely to see Roy again, and to learn more about what Theo and Dallas were up to during the '40s. Dallas was able to learn the location of the special glasses, and we also got some insights into what Nora was working on, and hints about where her ship might have been hidden. I just really like spending time with Dallas, getting to see more of Theo, and Roy. Since the start, this show has always done a good job making the flashback stuff feel relevant and interesting, instead of a waste of time since we already know the outcome. This is no exception!

And Isobel... apparently Tezca was once her teacher, back on Oasis! This is an interesting twist, and brings Isobel back into the main story in a way I didn't realize we were missing. She's been sort of banished to relationship drama land for most of the season thus far, and here we finally get to see her with her mother's sword again, ready to face down Tezca while her brothers lie there with tranquilizer darts in them. It was such a cool moment to see Michael, Max, and Isobel teaming up to learn more about their origins and their enemy's plans. I want more pod squad time, please!

Bonnie and Clyde's relationship is so screwed up and twisty! I love how Clyde manipulates our heroes into going to the cave where they think Nora's ship might be hidden, when all along what he was after was Theo's bible and glasses. That was a good switcharoo I genuinely didn't see coming, so when we get to that standoff between Clyde and Dallas at the end, with Bonnie as Clyde's bargaining chip, I genuinely wasn't sure what he was going to do, what he might be capable of. He seemed genuinely anguished about having to use Bonnie like that, but a second later he threw her into the quicksand, so... it seems Clyde's fanaticism about the Alighting is no joke. I'm so excited that Dallas has been pulled into quicksand land, and found Alex's necklace... we're so close, guys! Do we think maybe Dallas will find Alex next week? It's possible!

Before I turn to Maria, I want to give a shoutout to Max and Michael having their chats and supporting each other. Their relationship has really come so far from where we started with them in season one. Max is being the pragmatist, raining on Michael's parade a little bit, but Michael admits that he was keeping the map from the rest of his family because he wasn't ready to exit the dream part of things and think about the practical side of things. Max in turn admits that his savior complex is a problem, that he needs to spend more time contemplating and considering the consequences of his actions. Look at that. Some real growth, there. Please let the lesson stick this time, Max!

So all season I've been moaning about the lack of Alex, frustrated that we weren't moving a little faster, at least towards someone realizing that he was in trouble. But honestly? After this episode? I'm already forgiving them for a lot of the Alex drought. Maria has been trying to figure out what her mom wants to tell her, since her mom died. And we saw last week that strange things have been happening around her, signals that we assume came from Mimi. My trust issues with this show means that I never even considered that it might be Alex trying to reach out to Maria. Why? Because Alex doesn't seem to matter much to his friends outside of Michael! If you think about season three, how much screen-time did Alex get with any of his supposed close friends? Barely any with Kyle, and virtually none with Maria or Liz. So to have a plot setup where Maria's whole subplot the past couple of weeks has actually been leading her to Alex? To see Liz and Maria discussing Alex, his favorite soup and milkshake flavor, the concert they went to as kids... it brings Alex into the fold in a way I have been missing, honestly, since season two.

I was worried that the Alex rescue mission was going to be Michael alone, which obviously I would have loved seeing for the sake of the Malex of it all, but I like Alex as a character a lot! I want him to matter to a larger contingent of the cast. I want his absence to be a Big Deal and the Main Point of next week's episode, and having that cliffhanger ending with Maria and Liz realizing the truth, and then Dallas finding that necklace, it gives me hope that we're going to get something truly awesome for 4x08. I miss Tyler on the show, but if they can make Alex matter to the other characters even if we don't get to see him, I'll be more than satisfied.

So, yeah! That's where I'll leave things! I've already seen people hating on this episode because they hate Maria for like, existing, and for her having anything to do with Alex because they think she's an evil monster or whatever. Honestly at this point I just have to roll my eyes and feel kind of bad for those people. Imagine willfully misreading the show to support your continued irrational hatred of a fictional character who honestly has just as much of a right to take up space and time on the show as any of the other leads. Sounds exhausting and not so much fun.

Can't wait for next week! I'm vibrating with excitement!!!

8.5/10

[theycallme-thejackal]

flawless

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated M Warnings: Mentions of drug use, mentions of body issues & aging, near-death experience

She tugs gently at the wrinkles beginning to form at the corners of her eyes, trying to make the skin taut.

It’s not that she’s old. It’s just that she’s not in her twenties anymore. And there are so many stress factors in her life now. The exhaustive nature of her career. Raising four kids - two of whom are teenagers now (when the fuck did that happen?). And even after eight years of marriage, she and her husband still can’t keep their hands off of each other, meaning she forgoes her nightly routine for marathon bouts of sex more often than she probably should.

But tonight Lenny has a late set, so after the kids went to bed, Midge decided to pamper herself. After fixing her curlers, she looks at herself in the harsh light of their bathroom, and she’s unhappy with what she sees.

She can still hear Sophie Lennon’s voice in her head, telling her that if she’s pretty, no one will find her funny. And the vindictive part of her, the part of her that still hates the other woman with every fiber of her being, wants to prove her wrong. Even though she proved her wrong years ago. She wants to get on stage and make people laugh while still looking flawless because fuck Sophie Lennon.

She remembers her first set at the Gaslight. The night she flashed the audience, bragging about her tits standing up on their own. Back when it first happened, she didn’t recall, but when she discovered Mrs. X at the Gaslight among her husband’s records, it came back to her. She looks at her breasts in the mirror and frowns. They’re not bad, but gravity has definitely started to take a toll.

She holds them in her hands, lifting a bit so they sit where they used to. Only a matter of an inch or two, but a noticeable distance to someone who’s been body-obsessed for three quarters of her life.

“Hey, that’s my job.”

She whips her head to see her husband leaning on the doorframe with a smirk. At forty-five, having lived the way he did, he still looks almost exactly the same as he did the day they met. He thinned out in the darkest years of his addiction, but after finally kicking the morphine, he’s filled out to a healthy weight. His collar is turned up, and his arms are folded across his chest, reminding her of a very specific night in Miami.

“I thought you had a late gig,” she replies, leaning over the sink and rinsing her face.

“I did. It’s almost midnight,” he replies. Oh, she thinks. Apparently she was criticizing herself in the mirror for much longer than she intended. She pats her face with a towel, careful not to tug the skin. “Midge?” He asks, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He presses a kiss to her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

She sighs. If there’s one thing she’s learned in the thirteen years she’s known him, it’s that there’s no point in lying to him. He has always seen right through her. “I’m getting old,” she grumbles.

“Hey, no negativity in our bathroom.”

“Should we go to the hallway instead?”

“Nope.” He squeezes her a little tighter before resting his chin on her shoulder, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “If you keep talking shit about my best friend, I’m gonna have to kick your ass.”

She laughs at that before taking a deep breath and leaning back into his chest. “Midge, there’s nothing wrong with getting old. Trust me, it’s better than the alternative.”

It brings tears to her eyes, thinking about the three minutes and twelve seconds that he experienced the alternative. And all she could do was stand in the corner of the room while the doctors and nurses did everything in their power to restart his heart. She wraps her arms around herself, squeezing his biceps as she turns her head to kiss his cheek.

“You are just as beautiful as the day I met you,” he says, finding her lips with his for a short moment.

“The day you met me, I was rain-soaked, drunk, and crying,” she reminds him, arching her brow.

“And stunning. Don’t forget stunning.”

She smiles, and as she takes him in, she’s amazed that he still looks at her this way. Amazed that it still makes her weak in the knees. She can’t help but kiss him again. 

Bare-faced with curlers in her hair, she lets him guide her to their bedroom, where he reminds her over and over of just how beautiful she is.

insp.

[folkreid]

what if they don’t like me

I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT IN NO WAY AM I TRYING TO MAKE JJ SEEM LIKE A BAD PERSON OR ANYTHIJG I LOVE HER

Today's the day! I'm so excited. I'll be meeting Spencer's team. We've been dating for almost eight months, the team barley found out about me. Spencer wanted our relationship to be private, he said if the team found out about me they would ask too many questions.

I'm so excited to meet them! I can not wait. I met his mother maybe four months ago. She was lovely.

I finish off my makeup with some lipstick. Okay I look good. Right amount of cleavage, right amount of makeup. My heels aren't to high which is really good, I could hardly walk in them.

Spencer comes from behind me wrapping his arms around me. "You ready my love?" he asks putting his head on my shoulder. "Yeah I am" I reply with a sigh. "What's wrong babe?" he asks noticing my dreary mood. "What if they don't like me?" I look at the mirror, looking at him. He kissed my temple. "They're going to love you" he whispered.

I nod. "Okay i'm ready". He grabs my coat handing it to me, I put it on over my dress. He holds my hand as we walk to his car together. He opens my door, I sit down and he closes it for me.

The drive is mainly silent besides the radio. I hum along to the song that was playing trying to relax my nerves. "Why are you bouncing your leg?" he puts his hand over mine that was on my thigh.

I didn't even notice I was doing that. "I don't know"

He squeezed my hand. "Are you still nervous?" he asks looking over at me for a second. "Kind of, what if they question us because of my age"

Spencer and I were 10 years apart. He is 30 and i'm 20. We've gotten a lot of negative responses about our age gap. Mainly from my family. My mom didn't approve. My sister said I was dating him because he was older and I needed male validation since my dad wasn't in my life. Why are they so terrible. I'm happy with Spencer, I don't care how old he is.

"Hey, I don't care what they think of us, i'm happy alright" I nod slowly.

We arrive to the house. Woah it's a really big house. Spencer said the house was big. I didn't think it would be a mansion though.

Spencer comes over to me and opens my door.

I get out and hold his hand. I feel myself getting nervous. I have some issues with being around people. I get social anxiety pretty badly. I don't go out anymore, last time I went out to eat in public I had a panic attack.

We walk to the front door of the house.

Spencer knocks on the door, we wait for someone to answer. An older man answers. I'm guessing the owner of this house. "Spencer you're here!" the man smiles giving him a hug. I stand there awkwardly. "Uh Rossi this is Y/n, my girlfriend" he introduced me. I wave to him. "You don't shake hands either ?" he asked. I do shake hands but I usually feel really uncomfortable being touched. "I-I um" I stutter. "She does but she gets kind of uncomfortable with people she just met" Spencer explains. Rossi nods and welcomes me in. "Come in Y/n" he smiles.

I walk in and see two other men and three women. One of them was very colorful. Penelope I presume. Spencer leads me to the group. "Guys this is my girlfriend, Y/n. Y/n this is Hotch, JJ, Derek, Emily, and Penelope" both Emily and JJ give me weird looks. Penelope runs over to me and hugs me. "Oh my god! I've been so excited to meet you" she squeals. I look over to Spencer feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Garcia, Y/n isn't really fond of touch" he tells her. Penelope pulls away looking sorry. "I am so sorry angel" she says. "No it's totally fine" I whisper, they could hardly hear me. My parents used to scream at me about not talking loud enough.

"Okay well let's eat" Rossi says. I sat down at the end of the table, Spencer to my right and no one on my left. We begin to eat, I slightly here JJ and Emily whispering. I hear them say my name. I begin shifting in my seat. Spencer noticed and holds my hand under the table doing the dumb thing. "You okay love?" he whispers. "Yeah I um, I just need to use the restroom" I tell him. He nods. "I'm going to show Y/n the restroom" he excuses us.

"Here it is babe" he says. "You want me to wait for you?" he asked me. "No it's fine Spencer" he nods and heads back to the table.

I sit on the corner of the bath tub with my face in my hands. I just need to calm down. Breathe in and out. In and out. I feel myself calm down after about three minutes. I go look into the mirror. Do I look like I cried? No okay good.

I step out, I stop at the corner when I hear my name mentioned. "How old is Y/n" I look over the wall to see JJ asking about my age. "She's twenty" he casually says. I adore him. He's never made me feel bad for being younger, or not being as smart as him. "Spencer that's a child" Derek told him.

I walk out to the table. "I'm not a child" I say. They all look over to me. I take my seat next to Spencer. "I would never take advantage of someone younger than me" Spencer says. "Spencer we know but she's so young" Emily comments.

"I'm right here you don't have to refer as me as she" I sternly say. Hotch, Penelope and Rossi just watch this unfold. JJ rolls her eyes at me. "Okay well Y/n, why are you dating such and older guy, if you aren't dating guys you're age theres a reason why" Derek said to me.

"I um- I don't care if Spencer is two years older or twenty years older, i'm happy with him the age doesn't matter" I say holding Spencer's hand. "Are you sure it's not to maybe make you feel better" the blonde said. "What are you implying" Spencer snaps.

"That she has daddy issues and you're just there to fill that whole in her heart" Emily continued off of JJ's comment. "I think if they're happy we should leave them alone" Penelope speaks for the first time since the conversation started. "Yeah but he should be happy with someone his own age" JJ said. I get up and walk outside.

I sit on the curb crying into my knees. "Y/n" I hear a voice perk. I look over my shoulder to see Penelope. "Y/n come back inside please, we don't want anything to happen to you" she says implying to the fact that it was dark outside and there were suspicious men on the news around this area.

"Maybe you don't want me to get hurt, the others hate me" I cry into my shirt. "Please just come inside". I give in and walk back into the house.

"You guys made her cry! For what?! Just because she's younger than me!" I see Spencer yell at the three who were questioning me.  Hotch and Rossi were in the back having some drinks.

"Spence" JJ starts. "No I don't want to hear it Jennifer!" he storms my way grabbing my hand and pulling me to the car. "Goodbye Y/n" Penelope called from the front of the house. I look back and give her a quick wave.

I get into the car and Spencer starts driving. He was gripping the stealing wheel hard. He was mad. "Spence?" I whisper. He hummed in response. "Are you mad at me?" he looks over to me the second those words left my mouth. He puts his hand on my thighs stroking it gently. "Of course not my love, i'm  mad at them" he gently told me. I nod. "So now what?" I ask. "Now we just ignore what they have to say. I'm never going to leave you, I love you so much" he smiles. "I love you too" I hold his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. "I'm fine, I liked the way you yelled at them" I slightly giggled. He smiled. "I will yell at anyone any day to defend you" he reaches over and kisses me. We were at a red light.

—————————

THE NEXT MORNING

I hear talking in the kitchen, I wonder who it is. I go over and peek over the corner. It was Spencer and JJ. "I'm sorry for saying shit to your girlfriend Spence" she apologizes. Spencer just takes a sip of his water. "The truth is, I guess I was a little jealous" she laughs. He choked on his water. "J-Jealous?" he asked.

She nods and slightly laughed. "Spencer, I love you, like more than a friend love you" she confess. I feel my self get sick to my stomach. He told me when he was younger he had a crush on her. What if old feelings come back. I rush to the restroom and vomit into the toilet.

I hear footsteps rush to me. "Are you okay" Spencer acts. I slightly sob, i've always hated throwing up. I look up at Spencer and JJ was standing next to him with her hand on his arm. "I'm fine" I mumble. They both stand their for a moment. "Can you guys get out please!" I snap at them. They leave and I brush my teeth and go back to the kitchen.

"Do you think Y/n is pregnant?" JJ asked Spencer. "No there's no way she is" he sighs. "What if a condom ripped or something" she said touching his arm once again. I don't care if she was trying to comfort him.

"No, she can't be because we've never had sex" he mumbled. Her facial expressions changes to shock. "Oh" she simply says. I clear my throat making them notice me. "Are you okay babe?" he asked. "Yeah i'm fine, JJ weren't you saying something earlier?" I ask. She looks at me confused. "What are you talking about Y/n" she tilts her head. I cross my arms. "Spencer I love you, like more than a friend love you" I mock her voice. She clenched her jaw and looks towards Spencer. "I'm gonna leave" she grabs her things and walks out the door.

"Why did you do that!" he yells at me. "Why are you yelling at me?" I head towards our bedroom. "Talk about what she said, now it's going to be awkward around her!" he screams.

"Well you're the one who was letting her be all up on you! After she said that when you guys came to check up on me she was holding your arm! A-And you used to have feelings for her and you probably still do" I cry.

I see his face soften. "Babe" he starts. I look up at him. "I didn't even realize she was touching me, I was to focused on you" he tells me.

"Really?" I say hopefully. "Yes baby" he hugs me and kisses the top of my head. "I don't have feelings for her, you're the only person I love okay?" I nod.

[cushfuddled]

Could I ask you for advice on making YouTube videos, please? I'm thinking of making one, but I have no experience WHATSOEVER on it (and I mean, literally two days ago I googled a tutorial for editing videos to find out the name of main video editing software, I basically just entered kindergarten). So the broadest, most seemingly obvious advice would help immensely. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I'm still trying to figure out if you can make a video without talking.

HIYA!

Yes, you can definitely make a video without talking. I don't watch a lot of those vids, but there are plenty of people who use text-to-speech software rather than their real voices (some text-to-speech programs have gotten really good). You can also hire someone to read your script for you...If anyone has a site to recommend (where you can hire readers), please reply!

I've heard good things about HitFilm Express. It works a lot like Premiere, and there's a free version available. You can also use whichever free movie program comes with your computer or phone, though! I know of a YouTuber with over a million subs who edits his videos entirely on his phone.

I use yt5s to download YouTube videos. I download animated shows and movies from this version of KimCartoon and download live action stuff from sites like the Pirate Bay. Make sure to install a VPN before torrenting anything, btw. Last year I got an email from my internet provider like "we noticed you illegally downloaded a film :3" and BOY did THAT light my ass on fire to hide my IP. I currently use NordVPN, but there are probably faster ones out there lol.

If you go to the YouTube Studio tab on YT, then the "audio library" page listed on the left sidebar, YouTube gives you a great selection of no-copyright music.

I don't know what type of videos you want to make, but if you're interested in making review-style content, I've noticed that videos that focus on a specific topic tend to do better for small channels than broad reviews (example: "How A Snake Ruined Star Wars" performs better than "Rise of Skywalker Review"). In that situation you can use the snake as a vehicle to talk about the whole film, but a narrower premise tends to get more clicks these days. That, or titles like "In Defense of The Rise of Skywalker" or "The Rise of Skywalker Sucked" would still fare better than "Rise of Skywalker Review."

It's true: negative reviews perform better than positive reviews. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Do what you will with this information.

The algorithm will sometimes bury your video if your title or thumbnail contains words from this list. I've had one of my videos shadowbanned because I used the word "abuse" in the thumbnail. Some people will tell you that you should avoid swearing within the first minute of your video or so (because the bots will pick up on the bad language and restrict your video)...I've never tested this out, but. Better safe than sorry I guess.

Don't worry about monetization for a while, probably? You have to reach a certain amount of watch-time before you qualify for that program. If you do want to make sure your videos are monetizable later, though...use non-copyrighted music, and cut your clips so they're under ten seconds each. Copyrighted music needs to be under eight seconds to evade the bots. YMS explains this in the first couple minutes of this video: [x]

Don't put pressure on yourself to make a popular channel right out of the gate. Sometimes people do get a lot of attention right away, but most people don't start to get real traffic for at least a year? So yeah. Try to make whatever content you want to make and not worry too much about the numbers.

[supernaturalgirl20]

Part one

Pairings: Marcus Pike x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, flirting, small bit of angst,cursing, reference to sex, slagging off pop music, slow slow burn (I’m sorry, I have to).

Summary: on your way to your sisters wedding, an unexpected companion and bad luck, make for an interesting journey.

{Comments and reblogs really appreciated}

35 hours earlier

Frantically looking through your handbag for your passport, you fail to notice the tall figure approach you.

“Everything ok there Y/N?”

“Oh my god, Marcus, you scared the crap outta me. Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

He laughs and you try not to swoon. Why did he have to be so adorable? You eye him suspiciously, “I thought you were to fly out with Arthur and Lilian?”

He seems slightly flustered but quickly schools his face, “yeah I was, but something came up in work, break in a case so I had to stay and see it through.”

“Right! Well forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth, I promise.” He seems a little nervous as he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Lillian put you up to this, didn’t she?”

“..”

“I knew it! What, you all thought I needed a babysitter, I’m older than her for crying out loud.”

“She just wanted to make sure you got there safe and sound. That’s it. I really did have to stay for work, she just asked me to be on your flight.”

“Fine.”

You both check in and make your way to the departure gate. You take a seat as you wait to board and Marcus plops down beside you, earning an eye roll from you.

“Do you have to sit beside me?”

“No, but I’m going to anyway.”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You take out the book you brought with you for the trip and try to read.

“How have you been? Arthur told me you and Ethan broke up, I’m sorry.” Sorry you ever wasted your time on that asshole.

“That was eight months ago, your a bit behind for an FBI agent.”

He smiles at your dig and you nearly melt into a puddle. Why does he still have this affect on me. Damn him for being such a good guy and so so handsome. “Well what about you. No Theresa? I thought you’d be married by now.”

He goes quiet for a few minutes and you regret ever mentioning her.

“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. Forget I said anything.”

He shakes his head, “it’s ok, honestly. Things just didn’t work out. She wanted something different……someone different. I should have listened to Arthur! It was hard, I won’t lie, but I’m fine now. The future Mrs. Pike is out there somewhere.” I’m looking right at her.

“How do you always stay so positive, I’ve always admired that about you. I see the negative in everything. I think it’s why I’m still single.”

“Hey now, that asshole didn’t deserve you, and your not negative, your just a realist. There’s a difference.”

“Thank you .”

Now boarding the flight from Washington DC to Mexico.

“Guess that’s us.”

***

Luck was not on your side today. Why did Lilian have to get married in Mexico? First of all Marcus was in the seat right beside you. Ok, maybe you we’re secretly happy with that one, but you would never admit it. Second and the most important, the airplane is losing altitude, the masks have dropped and your currently welded to your seat in fear. Hand on top of Marcus’s gripping for dear life. He starts rubbing soothing circles into your hand, reassuring you the best way he can given the circumstances.

I’m sorry folks but we will have to make an emergency landing at Charlotte/Douglas int. airport. I would like to apologise for the inconvenience.

***

Marcus had grabbed both your suitcases and made his way back over to you. He noticed you were still shaking slightly so he pulls you into him wrapping his arms around you. You sink into his warmth.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“This! I’m sorry I just…I’m not a fan of flying and then that happens. I’m just a little shaken up, I’ll be fine.”

He pulls away so he can look you in the eye. “I have a crazy idea! How about we rent a car and drive. That way you don’t have to get back on a plane. We can take it in turns to drive and rest.”

“We can’t do that! It will take to long and Lilian will kill us both if we’re late.”

“It will take roughly 35 hours, we don’t really have to be there until Friday. It’s Monday evening, we’ll make it, with time to spare, I promise. So what do you say?”

“Only if your sure?”

“Positive.”

***

Marcus sorted everything out with getting a rental car and packing the cases into the trunk. He opened your door helping you inside.

“Your such a gentleman.”

He winks at you, “my momma raised me right.”

“Remind me to thank her when I see her.”

He takes off the suit jacket and tie, before rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning some of his shirt. You know your staring but can’t will yourself to look away. Memories of that night come flooding back and you can feel the blush on your face. The way his hands gripped your hips tight as you rode him. No don’t do this to yourself. Turning away before he notices, you roll down the window, in desperate need of air.

“You ok?”

“Yeah just….really hot in here.”

“Ok so I’ve it all planned, we can stop off in Atlanta get something to eat and sleep in a bed, then drive straight to New Orleans. Sound good?”

“Sounds long.”

He laughs, “I think I’m reconsidering that realist thing.”

“Hey, not cool.” You try to seem offended but can’t help the smile that works it’s way into your face.

“Sounds good, but I’m picking the music.” Marcus let’s put a groan that send a spark straight to your core. “Please don’t put on any pop music, I couldn’t bare it.”

“You think I listen to that crap?”

He shrugs his shoulders. You connect your phone to the car’s stereo and the speakers blast with AC/DC back in black. He’s surprised, he didn’t take you for the kinda girl that liked this music. Theresa didn’t. You raise your eyebrows in a questioning manner.

“Well?”

“Ok, you control the music.” Your smile lights up the car, it’s contagious. Marcus is the one staring now. God your perfect! I was a fucking idiot.

“Ok let’s hit the road.”

Previous/Next

Tagging:

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[copias-thrall]

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be  alist, but it got away from me! 😅 

Enjoy 😘 

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time. 

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.) 

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy. 

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-* 

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day 

goin upste 2 show 

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm? 

yeah. got me thinkin 

why no show? 

so i chked 

i missed one 

gotta do it 

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans. 

save em 

ths is impt 2 me 

We’ve had this planned for weeks. 

i thot u suprted me 

on a bus cnt tlk 

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being. 

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him. 

What? 

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

[90363462]

Kendrick Lamar on His Upcoming Major-Label Debut, Tupac Hologram, and Fruit Snacks

Kendrick Lamar. Photo: Kevin Winter/Getty Images

On October 2, Kendrick Lamar will release his major-label debut, Good Kid, Mad City, via Dr. Dre’s Aftermath imprint. But don’t take that to mean Lamar, a 25-year-old fiercely lyrical Compton MC, was discovered by Dre. Alongside his crew Black Hippy, Kendrick has hustled for years, releasing a string of exceedingly acclaimed mixtapes and albums on L.A. indie Top Dawg before getting called up to the majors. While still in the studio, between fifteen-hour, all-night mixing sessions and family hang time, Lamar spoke to us about Fruity Pebbles, Tupac Hologram, and changing his stage name.

Do you have any studio rituals? One of the main things I gotta have is a whole bunch of fruit snacks and Fruity Pebbles and Gushers and little stupid shit like that. That and Google. Sometimes my mind be working a million minutes at one time, and I could be writing, and I could be looking at something that I wanna know about, all in one motion. People think I’m crazy when they’re watching me.

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What kind of stuff have you been reading up on recently? I probably get in trouble talking about it. Some real real crazy worldy type things.

Did you ever worry all your efforts at a music career wouldn’t pan out? When you ain’t making no money from it, that’ll discourage you quick. You see your homeboys getting money and doing whatever they gotta do to get it, it’s easy to go negative. But through the grace of God, I stuck through it, and eventually my time came. I thought, I gotta get a [big] record, but time is everything. That’s something I didn’t know then.

You used to go by K. Dot but dropped the stage name. Why? I learned, when I look in the mirror and tell my story, that I should be myself and not peep whatever everybody is doing. K. Dot will always be my name in the neighborhood — that’s what they called me when I was a little baby running around with a basketball. But as a stage name, it didn’t work. It didn’t work because that was me emulating what I seen on TV. If I’m gonna tell a real story, I’m gonna start with my name.

One of my favorite songs of yours is an older mixtape track, “The Heart Pt. 2.” Your voice is cracking, you’re near tears … That was tapping into the emotion of the time. It was a real depressed stage in my life. You feel you got nobody. All you have is your mouthpiece to express yourself. And you hear that same tone on this album. We tapping back into it, where I was eight, nine years ago — a teenager.

How’d you and Black Hippy work your way up to Dre and Aftermath? Just with great music and word of mouth. We didn’t have no money to really push a project or nothing like that. One dude behind a computer, two other dudes behind management, and three other artists just making the music — that’s all we had. And that mentality will continue to spread. I’m sticking to the script, I’m putting that organic feeling back in the game. As long as my music is real, it’s no limit to how many ears I can grab. It’s something [Black Hippy’s] Ab-Soul told me five years ago: You can make a simple song in your little bathroom, and if it’s that good, it’s gonna get you touring all over America.

You played Coachella with Dre when he brought out Tupac Hologram. Is there any way you could top that? I don’t think I can even try to top that. I don’t think nobody should, either. Anything topping that would be the Rapture. That’d be God coming back. I’ll leave Tupac Hologram where it at, right on that stage.

[toorusbaby]

end of the day

summary: after a very bad day, all you really want is for your boyfriend, kei tsukishima, to hold you in his arms. however, things don’t go the way you hoped they would.

warnings: self-angst, a very upset y/n, tsukki makes up for it <3

word count: 4,987

The loud jingling of your keys as you unlocked the door to your shared apartment weren’t enough to push the negative thoughts out of your mind. The sound of chirping crickets in the air weren’t capable of relaxing your nerves either. 

It had been a long day to say the least, more exhausting than others. If you were running on batteries, the last of your juice was used up hours ago. It was safe to say that you were burned out. 

You had left the apartment at seven in the morning, fifteen minutes later than usual because your phone decided to go missing. Since Kei was sound asleep after a long night at the museum, you were on the lookout on your own. In the end, your phone turned out to be on the kitchen counter, the battery half drained. By the time you reached the station, you barely missed the train by a millisecond, having to hail a taxi instead. If one thing went right today, you made it just on time to work. 

On the other hand, with the combination of being reprimanded by your boss for missing an important deadline that slipped your mind, a coworker spilling hot coffee on your new blouse, and your thoughts jumbled due to yet another argument you had over the phone with your traditional mother the night before, it was as if your world had come crashing down in the span of a few hours. 

It was eight in the evening when you finally left the office, arriving at your apartment’s front door thirty minutes later. The fact that you were starving only made you more antsy. All you wanted at that very moment was to be held by your longtime boyfriend, Kei Tsukishima, as you buried your face in his chest. You needed him more than ever. 

Twisting the doorknob, the familiar creak of the wooden door made its way to your ears when you entered your apartment. The living room lights were on, symbolizing that Tsukishima was home. Letting out a sigh of relief, you gently shut the door shut behind you, locking it in the process before your eyes made contact with plastic bags on the coffee table. 

Just as you were going to check what was inside, you stopped in your footsteps when you heard the voice of your favorite blond from the kitchen. 

“Y/N, is that you?” Tsukishima’s head popped out slightly from the kitchen entrance, his honey brown eyes meeting yours. A tired grin immediately made its way to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, who wore his favorite grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His hair was a bit damp, probably from his shower. Without missing a beat, you walked your way over to greet him with the usual peck on the lips, holding your arms out for a much needed hug. 

“Kei, I missed you—”

Suddenly, Tsukishima had brought his phone back up to his ear. Your heart dropped at the sight. 

“Is he serious?,” Tsukishima scoffed into the phone. “The exhibition isn’t supposed to open for another five weeks. How are we going to make it work in only two? Fucking ridiculous,”, He grumbled, turning his body away from you momentarily. 

If you thought the coffee that spilled onto your shirt spread fast, the pain in your chest expanded even faster. You understood that you weren’t the only busy person in the relationship; Tsukishima was both an employee at the Sendai museum and a volleyball player for the Sendai Frogs. Compared to him, you felt as if you had no right to complain about being tired. After all, you only had one job, which was working for a well-known design company. And after today’s fiasco, you weren’t sure you even knew how to do your job correctly. 

Kei doesn’t need me bothering him right now, you thought to yourself. He’s busy with work, which is understandable. 

The thought was bittersweet; how could you be so proud of your boyfriend yet feel so lonely? 

 Almost as if he remembered that you were standing before him, the tall volleyball player turned back to face you. Tsukishima pulled the phone away from his ear and placed his palm over the speaker, walking towards you. 

“Sorry about that, Y/N. I should be done soon—” You unintentionally cut your boyfriend off.

“Don’t apologize, Kei,” You spoke with the most enthusiasm you could muster. You hoped it was believable. “I know you’re busy with the upcoming dinosaur exhibition.” 

When you lifted your hands in front of you to wave his apology off, your navy blue blazer had spread open, revealing the brown coffee stain on your white blouse. Tsukishima made brief eye contact with it, immediately frowning to himself; he knew you had been waiting for it to arrive for weeks. 

The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you and you found yourself feeling much more sensitive than usual. Sadness flooded your chest, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with your boyfriend. If you did, you knew you would only end up crying; Tsukishima didn’t need to add you to his list of worries. 

Unbeknownst to you, the blond noticed your stiff posture and the way you refused to meet his gaze. Tsukishima opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Seriously. But if you’ll excuse me,” your voice slightly wavered. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night. I’ll see you in a bit.” Flashing a small grin at Tsukishima, you made a beeline to your shared bedroom. 

Even if you had tried your absolute best to give him a proper smile, Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. He knew that you were faking it. It only hurt more to know that you were hiding your pain from him. 

༺♥༻

Stripping your clothes off, you mindlessly left them in a pile on the edge of your king sized bed. Taking one last glance at the coffee stain on your shirt, you clenched your jaw in frustration. You weren’t sure you could hold your emotions in any longer. 

Your feet padded across the room and into the bathroom, your hands moving on their own to open the see-through door of your shower, turning the knobs of the shower faucet. Finally, you stepped inside and shut the shower door. 

Although the steamy hot water cascading down your back helped relax you the majority of the time, that wasn’t exactly the case in this situation. Your posture was stiff, your jaw was still clenched, and the crease between your eyebrows only furrowed deeper. 

The only sound should have been the water falling onto the shower floor, tumbling down the drain. If that was the case, why could you hear the voice of your boss in your head?

‘I expected more from you, Y/N. A lot more. You’ve never let me down, not once. What happened this time? Do not miss a deadline as important as this again or there will be consequences. I hope you don’t make me regret promoting you.’ 

The disappointed voice of your respected boss morphed into your mother’s, the tone furious. Memories of her words from the other night played like a record on repeat in your mind.  

‘Do you really think that living with your boyfriend at this age is acceptable? You and Tsukishima are only twenty three. A man and woman should not live together unless they’re married. I don’t think you two will last for long anyways. Your father may have been more accepting about it, but I think you made the wrong choice. You’re lucky I’m hiding this from your grandmother. What do you think she’d have to say, knowing her granddaughter was so easy?’ 

You blinked once. Then you sniffled twice. 

You had finally reached your limit. Every hurtful word from your mother, every head shake from your boss, and even not being able to peck Tsukishima on the lips for a second, the way you usually did when you got home, echoed in your head. Before you knew it, hot tears leaked from your eyes and down your cheeks, small hiccups escaping your mouth. 

What’s wrong with me?, you clamped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. That didn’t help much. Why am I such a fucking mess?

Wrapping your free arm around your torso as if to hug yourself, your knees buckled in a moment of weakness. Quiet sobs wracked through your body, annoyance filling you up to the brim when you couldn’t silence yourself. You really didn’t want Tsukishima to hear. Despite the heat of the water affecting your senses, you stood still, allowing the water to mix with your hot tears. 

Little did you know, Tsukishima had been standing silently outside your door the moment you had turned the shower on. As soon as he laid eyes on the bunched up clothing on your shared bed, the blond knew you were bottling your emotions. You were always tidy; you never left a mess behind unless you were out of it. You were more similar to Tsukishima than you thought. 

And because you were so similar, your boyfriend knew that you were trying to drown out the sounds of your crying as you stood under the shower head. Even if he hadn’t been able to hear your cries, Tsukishima knew you all too well, only because he was the same way. And he loved you far too much to let this continue. 

Two quiet knocks on the bathroom door startled you, your hands rushing to wipe your face before you blinked. Trying your best to quietly clear your throat, you sniffled once. 

“I-I’m in the shower, Tsukki!”, you called out. “Is everything okay?”

Tsukishima’s silky voice still managed to make your heart skip, even if he was on the other side of the door. 

“Not really,” you heard him say in his usual monotone voice. “Mind if I join you?” 

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened out of nervousness. You did not want him to see your puffy eyes; you were sure you looked horrible. 

“Um, give me a second!” you called out. There was no use in hiding the fact that you were sobbing your eyes out; the reddened skin around them made it very apparent that you were bawling like a baby. The best you could do was rinse your face repeatedly until most of your sniffling went away. 

After a few seconds, you cleared your throat. “Y-You can come in, Kei!” 

When the door opened, revealing your tall boyfriend who placed one of his t-shirts on the counter, you bit the inside of your cheek. However, when he began to strip, you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. His toned, fit physique made your heart race and your pulse quicken. Even if you and Tsukishima had been dating for six years, living with each other for two of those, you couldn’t help but still feel a bit shy. 

After all, Kei Tsukishima was your first everything. Your first crush, your first boyfriend, your first kiss. The first person to see your naked body, the person who gave you your first sexual experience, but most importantly, he was also your first love. You knew deep in your heart that the sharp tongued blond would also be your last. 

Silently, you watched as Tsukishima opened the shower door. You stepped to the side, allowing his tall frame to enter the shower which was larger than most apartments would have. When the honey brown orbs you loved so much met your own eyes, you gulped. 

“Kei,” you mumbled with a questioning tone. “Weren’t you busy with work? And didn’t you already take a—” He cut you off with his own questions. 

“I hung up the moment you left the kitchen,” he spoke. ”You’re my priority. What’s going on, Y/N? Why were you crying?” Tsukishima wondered, his tone a bit sharp. Although his tone may have seemed a little harsh to an outsider, you knew that the blond was only worried for you. When he sounded frustrated, it only meant he was concerned. As a result, you only felt worse. 

As Tsukishima reached behind you to lower the excessive heat of the water, you let your eyes wander everywhere but his face. This only made the volleyball player clench his jaw. Even though Tsukishima was known for his patience, he wouldn’t tolerate your avoidance of his question. 

“It’s nothing, baby. Just a bad day, that’s all. I’m okay. Just a little tired— Kei!” you shouted when the warm water suddenly cut off. The cool breeze entering the bathroom from the open window was sure to give you goosebumps. “Kei, stop messing around. Turn the water back on,” you humorlessly chuckled. You really didn’t find it funny.

You reached for the shower knobs, wanting to avoid any confrontation. Your tears were the last thing Tsukishima needed to worry about, especially because he had to focus on preparing for the new exhibition. Your feelings simply weren’t that important. 

As soon as your hand was about to reach the handle, Tsukishima grabbed onto your wrist, gently pushing your back against the shower wall. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden feeling of the cool wall tiles behind you. 

“T-Tsukki, what the hell! It’s cold!” You shouted, your back instinctively arching. Your eyes were wide, finally meeting his golden brown ones. 

About time, the blonde thought. He missed having your eyes on his. 

Suddenly, the boy pinned you against the wall. Tsukishima’s stare was so intense, you instinctively rested your back against the cold tile. His bare body against your own caused your cheeks to redden. When goosebumps formed on your arms, the blond used his free hand to rub them away in order to warm your skin. The action was loving, despite his serious gaze. 

“I’ll turn the water back on when you tell me what’s got you so upset, baby.” Tsukishima calmly spoke, his hand quickly moving to lift your chin up the very second you were about to look down. He knew you well; too well. “What is it that hurt you to the point where you’re hiding your tears from me?” 

When he asked the second question, you noticed that Tsukishima had used a softer tone, one that was gentle yet doting. The feeling of the pad of his thumb gently stroking your chin brought you back to reality. You loved Kei with your entire being. Despite your fear that you would stress him out, you couldn’t lie to him. 

After a moment’s pause, you were ready to open up. Your mouth felt dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “I-I just…” you trailed off. Your eyes wavered on his, your emotions threatening to take over once again. 

Tsukishima could see the glossy screen making its way over your eyes. He knew that you always tried to display your strong side, but he also understood your sensitivity. For you to cry alone, Tsukishima would never allow it. But for you to cry in front of him, in his protective arms, he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. Even if things didn’t seem like they were going to go well, Tsukishima would make sure everything worked out. For you. 

Everything he did, Kei Tsukishima did it for you. 

“Kei, I just…” your voice was uneven. You blinked rapidly. 

Tsukishima’s hand moved its way to cup your cheek in his palm. When he felt you trembling, the blond didn’t hesitate to turn the water back on to its hottest setting. Understanding that you couldn’t meet his gaze at that moment, the volleyball player used his free hand to lay your cheek against his chest. Then, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, pressing your body flush against his. 

You shut your eyes, your heart aching in your chest. Your hands instinctively reached out to hold onto his biceps. You felt like a burden. The moment you felt a kiss on the top of your head, you broke. 

“Kei, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered in a desperate voice. Your vision became cloudy with tears once again. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Why can’t I do anything right for once?” you whimpered. Your throat began to ache from holding in your cries. 

Tsukishima felt your shoulders trembling in his arms. In response, he held you tighter to his chest, his large hand reassuringly grazing up and down your bare back. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips when your body relaxed from his touch.  

“First, it was an argument with my mom. You know how she’s always been about us living together,” you mumbled. Your shoulders relaxed when you felt the low vibrations of your boyfriend’s chuckle in his chest. 

“Trust me,” the blond mused. “I know.” The memory of your mother throwing a temper tantrum the day you and him officially moved into your shared apartment was burned into his memory. 

Even though tears were dripping down your chin and your sniffling had returned, a small smile made its way to your face. Tsukishima didn’t have to use his words to make you feel understood. 

You cleared your throat, the smile slowly fading. “And then it was my boss. I-I understand why he was upset. I mean, it was my fault for forgetting about the deadline. But I just…” your grip on his biceps tightened and you sighed. “I hate knowing that I’ve let people down. I really don’t mean to.” Your voice cracked. 

Momentarily, your boyfriend pulled your face away from his chest. The sounds of your whimpering made his chest ache. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wordlessly wiped from under your eyes and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead. Your eyes responded by welling up with a new batch of tears. 

“Kei,” you breathed out. “Kei, you’re gonna make me cry even more.” You whined and felt your bottom lip tremble. With his large palms now cupping your face, Tsukishima only smiled softly down at you. 

“So cry then. Let it all out, Y/N.” As soon as Tsukishima’s words registered in your head, golden brown eyes watched as tears leaked from your eyes that he loved so much. His thumbs held your head in place gently, his lips moving on their own to kiss both of your tear streaked cheeks, ignoring the salty taste on his lips. In that moment, Tsukishima only cared about making you feel better.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to have bad days. But it’s not okay to keep all of these emotions to yourself. Why do you think you have me, you dummy?,” the blond gently chided, his lips pursed together when you grinned. After a pause, he continued. 

“I know that I’ve been really busy with work and I’m sorry.”

“Tsukki, you don’t have to apologize—”

The pointed stare your boyfriend gave you halted your words. When you fell silent, Tsukishima gently grazed his knuckles on your cheek. His eyes never left yours. 

“But nothing is more important to me than you. Work can wait, you come first. You always will.” Tsukishima’s hands reached behind you to grab your strawberry scented shampoo. The two of you fell silent for a second, the only sound being your sniffling and the water tumbling down the drain. When your boyfriend poured some shampoo onto his palm, his fingers working to lather the substance into your hair, you swore your heart was going to burst. It was only the sound of Tsukishima clicking his tongue that brought you back to reality. 

“I know you well enough to know that you’ve been calling yourself a burden or some shit like that, so stop it.” Tsukishima watched as your cheeks reddened from the truth of his words. He let out a small sigh, amused at the fact that he was correct, but upset that you viewed yourself as one. The idea of you putting yourself down over inevitable events didn’t sit right with him. 

The feeling of his fingers lathered in shampoo against your scalp released the tension in your body, the scent of strawberry filling your nostrils and the silky sound of his voice filling up a void within you that had been empty just before. It was as if Tsukishima was picking up your broken pieces, placing them back together again. 

“But trust me. You’re far from being a burden. If anything...” the blond trailed off, gesturing for you to rinse the shampoo out of your hair. Leaning your head back, you let the water wash the shampoo off. Tsukishima already had conditioner in his palm, ready to loosen the tangles in your hair. 

“If anything,” he continued. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Tsukishima admitted. The blond could feel heat rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t care. His long, calloused fingers worked their magic on the tips of your hair first. 

“My favorite part of the day is waking up by your side in the morning.” Untangling your hair, then rinsing. “Every time you kiss me, I fall in love all over again like an idiot.” A peck on your forehead. “I love teasing the hell out of you, only because I know you secretly like it.” A smirk and a gentle spank on your butt. You pouted playfully. 

“But holding you as we fall asleep,” Tsukishima breathed out, his forehead against yours. “The feeling of having you in my arms every single night?” His voice was a drug and you couldn’t get enough.

Your attention was only on Tsukishima. You didn’t even feel that the water was slowly growing colder. You wouldn’t care even if you noticed. You had the love of your life keeping you warm and that’s all that mattered. 

“Knowing that you need me, just as much as I need you… You’re the only person I’d go soft for, but you’re also the best thing I could ever ask for, baby. Not even close to a burden.” You felt Tsukishima’s hand intertwine with yours, fingers locked together. 

“I love you so much, Y/N. This will never change.”

You’ve heard Tsukishima tell you that he loved you hundreds of times. The love confessions often paired with either his famous smug smile, the sad eyes Tsukishima only showed to you after a rough day, or the tired tone in bed after a heated argument, after the two of you would apologize; both of you never went to bed angry. 

Hearing Kei Tsukishima, the man with a sharp tongue who was known to conceal his true feelings, remind you of how much you meant to him and feeling him hold you so closely, your body moved before you could think. 

Grabbing hold of his neck from behind with your free hand, you pulled the blond into a deep kiss. Tsukishima didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, his hands running through your wet, now silky hair as he pulled you closer by the waist. You tilted your head to the side, feeling his nose  brush against yours as he deepened the kiss. 

You were on cloud nine. 

It was a long moment later when you pulled away, out of breath and cheeks ablaze. You quickly used your thumb to wipe away the small string of saliva on your bottom lip, embarrassed at how forward you had behaved. Tsukishima only had a smug smirk on his now swollen lips, his tongue poking out to lick at the corner of his mouth. He chuckled when you wordlessly buried your face in his chest. The blond immediately wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“I’d rather have you give me a sloppy kiss like that than see you crying, moron. Thank god you’re cute though, even if your eyes are puffy.” 

You groaned into his chest, spanking his butt out of spite. His sudden jolt made you smirk. 

“I love you Kei, but please shut up.”

“Mm, I don’t really feel like it.”

༺♥༻

What once was steamy hot water had soon turned cold by the time you and Tsukishima left the shower. Freshly clean and your tears completely washed away by the water and your boyfriend’s sweet kisses, you were now dry, wearing the blond’s large olive green t-shirt and a pair of black panties.

Tsukishima had gone to the living room to make sure the doors and windows were locked, telling you to get comfortable in bed. Only in his grey sweatpants, the blond didn’t feel like wearing his shirt. You definitely didn’t mind. 

On the edge of your bed, your pile of clothing from earlier was placed in a laundry basket, only to be replaced by the plastic bags you had seen on the coffee table the moment you entered your apartment. A very familiar scent was coming from whatever was inside and your stomach growled in anticipation.

No way, you wondered with wide eyes. Did he…?  

“Did you really think I’d let you go to bed hungry?” 

Your head swiveled back to face your favorite blond. There Tsukishima stood with plates in one hand, water bottles gathered in his other arm. Your excitement must have been evident on your face because your boyfriend gave you an authentic, loving smile, all signs of smugness gone. 

“Baby,” your fingers happily toyed with the plastic bag’s tied handle. “Did you get curry buns?”

Tsukishima made his way over to you, settling the plates down on the bed. Then, he lifted his hand to gently flick your forehead. “Why don’t you open the boxes and see for yourself, hm?”

༺♥༻

The humming sound of the fan in front of your bed blowing cool air into the room filled the air. Very faintly, you could still hear the crickets chirping outside when you lifted your head. Glancing at the nightstand, the clock beside Tsukishima’s glasses read that it was a bit past ten thirty. 

With a stomach full of curry buns along with other side dishes your boyfriend so lovingly spoiled you with, you sighed contentedly. In a sleepy daze, you laid your head onto Tsukishima’s warm, bare chest and closed your eyes. Listening to the sound of his heartbeat was one of your favorite things to do when the two of you cuddled; you found it endearing and intimate. Although he’d never admit it, Tsukishima felt the same way.

A protective arm wrapped its way around your waist, Tsukishima’s long legs tangled with your own. His free hand played with the ends of your hair, twirling it repeatedly with his fingers. You began to feel even sleepier, the food coma making an entrance. You slowly blinked, then turned your head to look up at your boyfriend who had a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“You know I love you, right Kei?”

“If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have bought you curry buns, Y/N.”

Before you could give a sassy response, Tsukishima tilted your head to face him. Then, he gently pecked your lips twice. 

“To make up for earlier. I’m sorry I missed it when you came home. Never again,” he mumbled, using his hand to move strands of hair away from your face. 

You giggled quietly, your face tickled by his blonde hair that loomed over you. You loved it when he was physically affectionate. “Thank you for loving me, Kei,” you whispered. Your eyes were fixated on his, his pupils dilated in the room’s soft yellow lighting. “I love you. So damn much.”

With a kiss to his nose, you readjusted yourself so you could snuggle into Tsukishima’s chest. The volleyball player leaned over to turn the night lamp off before placing the blanket over the two of you, the scent of your strawberry shampoo creating butterflies in his stomach. When he looked down at you for the last time that night, you were already sound asleep with your arm securely wrapped around his torso. 

Sure, the majority of your day consisted of mostly negatives. And yes, you had to say goodbye to your new blouse. Coffee stains on white were a done deal. But it wasn’t as if you couldn’t order a new one. Your boss would eventually get over your flaw at work; you’d compensate somehow and get back on track. And when was your mother not upset with you? It was hard, but it was worth it if that meant living with Tsukishima. Your mom would eventually come to terms with the fact that you were twenty three, almost twenty four. You were an adult after all; days like this were normal.

But at the end of the day, Tsukishima was always going to be there for you. Despite the difficulties you faced and the many downfalls that were yet to come, you knew that Kei was going to be there to hold you when you fell asleep. You’d do the same for him if it was the last thing you ever did. 

Your faint breathing and the whirring fan were the only audible sounds in the room. With his golden brown eyes threatening to flutter shut, Kei Tsukishima gave one last glance at his cabinet across the room. Inside the third drawer underneath his volleyball practice clothes, sat a black velvet box with a diamond ring waiting to be worn on your left ring finger. 

A smile formed on the blond’s lips when he leaned over to kiss the top of your sleeping head one last time before dozing off. He truly couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him when the time was just right. But for now, it was already the end of the day. Regardless, Kei Tsukishima was excited to share a new beginning with you.

[suddenlysackler]

Keep Up

Henry McHenry x Reader

TW: tad bit of angst, mention of divorce, reader feels a bit insecure, henry is an ass but we’re working on him, brief mention of addiction/sobriety

A/N: Writing is hard but I’ve been working really hard on this so I wanted to share it even though there was really no point to the plot I just wanted to write for Henry. I have literally no posting schedule/writing schedule anymore. This takes place post Waltz in the Storm, only we’re gonna say Ann survived and took Annette and divorced Henry okay bye ily all so much.

...

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Your eyes are round and full of mixed emotions — trust, fear, maybe some excitement — as you grip the helmet shoved into your hands with a vice grip.

Henry watches you from the seat of the Harley he had bought with the money from the sale of his and Ann’s estate after the divorce. It’s ridiculous, really. Completely over the top, particularly for someone who was just making a comeback in their career and trying to get back to some sort of financial stability. “Just get the fuck on the bike and try to keep up with me, will you?” His tone leaves no room for argument, his face is playfully skeptical.

The red Harley Davidson motorcycle is “fully loaded” as the sales person had told the two of you as you made your way across the show room floor just a few days ago. It’s completely with heated grips and a backrest in the passenger’s seat and a full scale infotainment system for Henry to blast his favorite music between gps directions as he sees fit. He’d passed on the built in defensive driving mechanism and balked at the Milwaukee-Eight 114 engine and even sprung for the most expensive of saddlebags. Hell, he’d even told you he was planning on getting the leather embroidered with his initials. 

Did this surprise you? No, not in the slightest.

Henry is eccentric. 

It’s your default response to the questions and comments and concerns expressed by each member of your social circle from the moment you’d mentioned that you’d been seeing someone. Questions of who, what, when, where, why, and how and worries about whether or not someone who shined so bright would be good for you and whether it would even work.

Honestly, you ask yourself the same thing almost every day. If you didn’t love him, you wouldn’t be able to see it.

He asks himself how you can see it every time he wakes up to your hair spread across his pillows.

Back to the matter at hand. You. Him. Big scary motorcycle. 

You turn your feet inward almost absentmindedly, standing pigeon toed and letting your shoulders tense up as he kicks off the bike with an exaggerated groan and comes to stand in front of you. “I’ve never done this before.” 

Henry pulls off his own helmet, tosses it to rest on the seat, and smiles knowingly at you. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Shut up.” 

“Ann never —”

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted just a bit. It was the one thing he continuously did even a year and a half into your relationship that made you lose your mind. He stops mid sentence when he sees the disappointment on your face. 

“I’m not Ann.” You say, trying so, so hard to not ruin the night. He’d been waiting for a break in the much needed rain falling over LA county for the past week to take you out and show you a good time. Try as you might, your lips start to tremble ever so slightly and you let the helmet clatter to the ground, beyond frustrated with him. With yourself even?

He rushes forward, hands all over you and your face before you can even bend at the waist to pick up the discarded the mixture of plastic and fiberglass at your feet. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You did it again.”

“But I didn’t mean it.” Henry says, pleads with you. His brown eyes convey the honest to goodness truth of it all and you know he’s good for his word. He really didn’t mean to. 

The past year was tumultuous, everyone knew that. Finding Ann stranded at sea on the coast just ten miles away from where Annette slept safely on board the yacht with her father. The accusations, the words thrown like daggers. The bliss and fervor and passion of their early days slipping away faster than vinegar leaves the bottle when you pour it, the whole ordeal just as sharp and bitter to taste. 

You’d been introduced to it just as the papers had been served to Henry’s modest home that had been inhabited for six months before Ann had made her final decision. 

He’s grateful for your loyalty and tells you that much just about every day. There isn’t a day where you doubt his love for you — how could you when you watch him work on himself in therapy and in the gym and with the way he tosses his cigarettes to the side and limits himself to a carton a week somehow? 

However, the one thing you had zero tolerance for was being compared to Ann.

Henry bites his tongue as he looks at you. He represses the urge to yell and ask why it always has to be about you, why you always have to nit pick when he does something you don’t care for. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the feel of your skin and how it’s almost as if it’s a balm for all of the negative emotions and thoughts crammed into his head. He reminds himself that you aren’t doing anything wrong by calling him out on this, that it’s appropriate to. Rather than lash out, he takes a deep breath and says the words he had been working so, so hard to work into his vocabulary in sincerity over the past year. “I’m sorry.”

The apology rings through your ears and settles in your mind. You sit with it for a moment and think about the Henry you had heard of prior to meeting him — the violent outbursts, the juxtaposition of his drinking and smoking habits in conjunction with his almost militant like work out routine. The selfishness and the narcissism and the screaming.

Your brow knits together as you process his words. “You’re sorry?” The words felt foreign on your own tongue, you couldn’t imagine how he must feel.

He nods slowly, giving you a once over as his cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m really, really sorry.” Henry promises, swears it. “It’s force of habit and that doesn’t make it right. I’m sorry. I’m working on that.”

You nod after the last word leaves his lips and you’re reminded of the fact that, yes, he is working on it. He’s working on a lot of things and you remind yourself that the whole reason he bought the bike was to celebrate one year of sobriety. With bated breath, you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek bone gingerly, an acknowledgement in it of itself. You know Henry doesn’t need your words.

Henry leans down and kisses your forehead, then crouches and grabs your helmet. He stays close to the ground for a long moment and falls to his knees. He buries his face in the fabric of your shirt and rests his arms just around the small of your back, memorizing the feel of holding you and relishing in the way your hands almost automatically move to thread through his hair, no longer matted from neglect and back to its usual thickness and shine. 

After a few moments of silence, you pull back just a bit to look at him. “I’m proud of you.” You whisper, eyes shining with a mixture of emotion.

His own eyes bore into your face, always working on committing whatever it was he was currently feeling to memory. “Thank you for helping me.”

A smile breaks out on your face and you shrug before leaning down and kissing his temple. “Always.” You murmur. “Now, will you please get me on the bike? Show me what I’ve been missing all these years.”

Henry smiles, the expression of satisfaction much wider than your own flash of your teeth. “You sure?” He asked, repeating your words from just a few minutes prior back to you.

“I’m sure.” You respond while trying to suppress the giggle that threatened to bubble past your lips at his teasing. You can’t help but cackle as he all but drags you to the bike and helps you put on the helmet, letting you inspect the bike before hopping on. When you finally straddle the seat, his left hand comes to rest over your arms, now looped around his waist and hanging on for dear life, before he hits the ignition and punches it, riding off in pure bliss and leaving the events of the past year behind, as it should be.

[probably-not-a-rocketscientist]

calculated love and complicated confessions

summary: your time on cloverfield station has lead you to two conclusions: love is complicated and not everyone is who they seem

warnings: mutual pining, slight angst with a happy ending, mention of harm to others, one (1) german phrase that i'm pretty sure i butchered

a/n: did i write this all week when i should have been studying for my finals? yes. also, i saw this movie three years ago in chinese so i might have gotten some details wrong. english is not my first language so constructive criticism is encouraged. enjoy!

——

As an engineer, you knew the importance of trial and error. However, you did not expect for it to keep you in space for nearly three year with seven other scientist. You all found a sense of family with each other, but you couldn't help the need of being on earth grow every day.

One crew member you payed particularly close attention to was Ernst Schmidt. You noticed the little things about him; like how he would comb his fingers through his hair when it fell to his face because he insisted on keeping it long, or when he would curse in his native tongue when he got frustrated with his work.

After a while, the whole station seemed to have caught on to your fondness for Schmidt, except the physicist himself. He was oblivious to the constant teasing by the other crewmates, thinking it was only because of how close you two were as friends.

However, he wasn't the only clueless person on the station. You had failed to notice all the advances that Schmidt had made — like his hands lingering on to yours for a second more when they touched, or always insisting on being paired with you when you all were sent to do assignments throughout the deck. He found your presence to be intoxicating, but didn't push too far in fear that you didn't feel the same way.

—

The day before another test, you stayed in the dining room all night reviewing your calculations. You were almost positive that they were correct, but it would kill you if you were the one responsible for the accelerator being unsuccessful.

You were so focused on your work that you didn't notice how quiet the station was. You checked your wristwatch and it was well over midnight. Sleep wasn't a priority for you right now, but you knew you needed to be well rested for the test in a couple of hours.

Right as you were about to get up, Schmidt entered the room. His hair was messy and he was in sweatpants and a t-shirt. A pair of wire-framed glasses sat on his face, something he only wore when he forgot to put in his contacts — or in this case, retrieving an item from the kitchen at this ungodly hour. You forced yourself to look away, worried that you were starring at him for too long.

"Why are you still working? It's very late," he comments as he opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water.

"I'm just nervous about tomorrow. We don't have a lot of firings left and I want to get this right," you responded.

"You've been working non-stop for the past month, I'm certain you will do just fine," he reassured with a smile. "And if not, I will take over your post."

"The last time I checked, I had one more PhD than you."

"I'll catch up eventually, you know."

He was fidgeting with his water bottle, unsure how to prolong this conversation. "Let me walk you back to your quarters, you need the sleep."

Without hesitation, you rose from your chair and began walking beside him. Walking through the halls of the station at night usually made you uneasy, but Schmidt's presence made it slightly more comfortable. The heavy clanking of your steel-toed work boots contrasted the light thumps of his sneakers.

After a few more paces, you arrived at your room. You punched in your passcode and the door slid open.

"Well, this is my stop. Thanks for making sure I got back safely," you joked.

"Of course," he responded.

You could tell that he was also tired so you didn't want to hold him for too long. "Goodnight Schmidt," you bid.

"Goodnight liebling," he responded. He began walking back to his own room before you could process what he said.

"What does that mean?" you questioned.

"You'll understand soon enough," he answered without looking back.

Even though you were confused by his response, you closed your door and locked it. Exhausted, you fell onto your mattress without taking your boots or jumpsuit off. Within a few seconds you felt your eyelids getting heavy and slipped into your sleep.

—

The control room was silent, worried that any movement or noise would cause the dial to turn in the unfavorable direction. The particle accelerator was fired less than a minute ago and the dial was slightly moving in between the red and green zones. This was first time the machine had been able to turn on and to have it successfully work would be nothing short of a miracle.

All of you held your breath as the dial began to turn again, this time in the green. Suddenly, it lowered significantly towards the safety levels.

It worked.

Cheers and laughter filled the room as you all celebrated the victory. After years of failures and dead-ends, the feeling of achievement was exhilarating.

—

You were thrown into chaos when you got back to earth. After the return shuttle landed in the Atlantic, a helicopter took you all back to mission control in London. Everyday consisted of either physical test to make sure the artificial gravity didn't have any negative effects on your body, or press conferences about how the eight of you solved the energy crisis. You couldn't turn on the news without some mention of the Shepard, but you were just glad to be home.

By the end of the month, you and the rest of the crew were burned out, both mentally and physically. You, Tam, Hamilton, and Mundy decided to stay in London and lead a team at mission control to monitor the Shepard's status. Kiel, Acosta, and Volkov were to return to their families and respective countries tomorrow. You hadn't heard much from Schmidt, but you assumed that he would return to his life in Germany. Since today was the last day all of you be together for a while, Hamilton decided to take you all to a pub downtown.

You watched the others play, or at least attempt to play, billiards closely from the bar. Your feet were aching so you decided to sit down but you were still actively encouraging them. After a couple rounds, Schmidt walked over towards you.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked politely.

"It's all yours," you gestured. He pulled out the stool and sat with his back facing the tabletop. You notice his outfit, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of dark trousers. It was a change from his usual jumpsuit uniform and a polo shirt with jeans.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, letting the soft conversations of the pub fill the empty space between you. It was almost a bittersweet moment; one of the last moments you would spend together.

Almost as if he read your mind, he answered your thought. "I'm not going back to Germany," he said.

A sigh of relief rang through your head, but you still couldn't help but be curious about his decision. "Why not? You probably have hundreds of women lining up to be with the 'German man that saved the world'," you joked.

He was unresponsive to your comment as he gathered his thoughts. His demeaner changed and he shifted in his seat so that now he was facing you. "Can I make a confession?" he asked.

"Of course, Schmidt," you replied. Now you were worried that something was wrong. He wasn't one for serious conversations so you knew this was important.

"As you may know, my country has been trying to start a war with Russia for nearly a decade. When the Shepard was built, the government sent me as a spy to prevent it from working. I was suppose to send logs of my progress back to them, but I never did. The day before we activated the device, I received a transmission ordering me crash the station into the ocean with all crew member on board. If I go back to Germany, they will have me arrested for treason."

You were shocked by his words and couldn't think of anything to say. You knew that Schmidt would never betray the crew, and apparently the cost of that was being exiled from his own country.

He was now looking down on the floor, worried that he would see disappointment in your eyes if he looked up. "Can you please say something?" he pleaded.

"Why didn't you do it? You knew this was the result, yet you still made the sacrifice? Why?" you asked. You brought your hand to cup his face, tilting his gaze so he was now looking down at you. Your thumb ran over his cheek as an attempt to comfort him.

"I did it for you. And I would do it all again if it meant I could see your smile, even for just one more minute. I understand if you want nothing to do with me after today, but you deserve to know the truth."

It wasn't until now that you realized how close in proximity you were to him. You could smell the cologne he was wearing; citrus with a hint of firewood. Flammable items like fragrance and hairspray weren't allowed on the station, but you could still identify the scent as his own.

"I guess it's my turn to make a confession, right? To even things out," you half-whispered. You continued to move closer to him slowly, seeing if he showed any sign of resistance. His eyes were now fixed on your lips, and yours to his. Deciding to take the final step, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down.

The kiss was slow but filled with passion, the result of bottled up feelings for the past three year. He tasted like cigarettes and tap beer, exactly how you imagined him. His hands traveled down to your waist and attempted to pull you in as close as he could from the awkward position you both were in. A small moan escapes your lips from the contact, a sound that he found to be his favorite.

You pull away moments later to catch a breath of air. His quick breathing was in sync with yours and you let out a slight laugh of relief.

The intimate moment was interrupted by cheering and whistling coming from the billiards table. It was a mix of 'finally's and 'about time's. Your crewmates had a habit of embarrassing you and apparently it applied to public spaces as well. You put your head on Schmidt's shoulder to try to shield yourself from them.

"Should we go over there and say something?" you asked. The lighting in the pub wasn't great, but you could've swore you saw Mundy hand Tam £20.

"In a minute. I want to savour this moment for as long as possible."

[nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars]

A Stray Bullet Part 5

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of someone dying in a car accident.  Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 3689 A/N: I had to re-work the ending to this part as I added new parts to it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other a couple of times to relieve the pain you were starting to feel from having been standing for far longer than your body wanted you to be, your head hung low with your eyes cast to the dark wooden floor. You were staring at a spot where a shard of glass had slipped between the grooves of two bits of wood, finding it interesting all of a sudden. Balling your hands into fists by your side and then relaxed them, wiggling the stiffness from your fingers to expel the tension. You thought about all the ways you could possibly answer his persistent questioning on the subject. You could always tell him the unbridled truth about your relationship with Victor, of course, you’d omit more than a few private details about the matter. But realistically, what good would telling him the complete truth really do? Apart from causing an explosive argument to break out between the two of you, and even then he’d insert himself more forcibly into your personal affairs.

James hadn't always been that way, he used to give you some semblance of privacy when growing up. In fact, he had only been this way since your father had been killed in the car accident with a drunk driver a good few years ago now. Inserting himself into your life whenever something dangerous came along, becoming overprotective and doing whatever he could to make sure you're safe. When he became a detective at the GCPD it only seemed to amplify his need to keep you safe, and while it was sweet knowing that your brother is always going to be there, you felt as if it was a bit too much.

And well, Victor Zsasz just so happened to be 'something dangerous'. James' reaction to you dating the famed hitman that quite literally shot you would set off a rather volatile reaction. There was no way for you to predict how he would act. Not to mention he had a temper that needed to be kept in check, which he was doing so well with.

This meant James needed to know all about it, right? So he doesn't lose his temper? He should know, he's your brother after all and not to mention you usually told him everything. The good and the bad, well to an extent. This was different, more personal and gave way to more chances for James to lash out at you or Victor or both. It wasn't as if you could keep putting it off, since he'd find out about it sooner or later. Later would be a huge mess, however, telling him sooner could be just as bad. Perhaps you could settle on telling him half-truths? It wouldn't make him angry if you let some details slip while keeping the key ones close to your chest.

The most difficult part was trying to mentally convince yourself to do it. To tell him the truth, no matter how angry he is going to be about you keeping it a secret. Or at the very least to give him something small to go off of, anything at all to keep him from questioning you further. The choice was hard to make, but it needed to be made, and you were the only one who could make it.

With a firm nod of your head at your decision to tell him half-truths, your tongue shot out between your lips as you tilted your head to the side and finally managed to tear your gaze away from the glass shard between the floorboards and over to the couch where James currently resided. His arms crossed over his chest still, tapping away at his upper arms with his fingers impatiently, waiting for you to answer. You could tell he wanted to ask again and if you didn't give an answer he was going to be displeased with you.

"Okay," you breathed out to calm yourself, flexing your hands once more. "Grace was right, I am dating someone." You begrudgingly admitted in the hopes that the thick and heavy tension that fell around you and James like a thick blanket of smoke within the last couple of minutes would clear, and give way to something that would make breathing feel less like a chore than it seemed to feel like in this very moment. 

Finally, admitting your secret to your brother seemed to make little to no difference, if anything it felt as if the tension had got far worse between you and James. It felt it coiled around your chest like a boa constrictor choking out its prey, making it exceptionally hard for you to breathe. You felt the full weight of your anticipation towards his reaction resting heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like it was getting harder to breathe.

You were hoping to blame the sudden feeling of weakness that began to wash over you on the fact that you've been shot twice and not on the fact that you've started to really worry. Your fingers curled and uncurled multiple times at your side, then pressed the palms of your hands against your thighs and stared at him. Waiting, watching for any hint of surprise, annoyance, anger, just anything to show you what he’s feeling.

"You're dating someone?" he asked, his gruff voice gaining your attention before you could allow your mind to wander. There were no underlying negative emotions as he spoke to you, still the tension remained and was in no way alleviated. In fact, it felt far more stifling now than moments ago when you admitted your secret aloud.

"Yes, I am." you answered in a low voice that's barely above a whisper. A single nod was all you could manage, taking a slow and small step backwards so that the back of your legs hit the soft cushions of the couch behind you. You automatically sat down as soon as you felt them, your hands going to your hap where you intertwined your fingers and rubbed your left thumb with the pad of your right nervously.

You averted your gaze, there was no way you could bring yourself to look at him. Not only that, but you could sense the disappointment dripping in his voice and radiating off of him, he tried his best to hide it, but you could still sense it. "Who is it?" he demanded, his voice raising even though he tried to fight the anger that boiled in his veins. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see his knuckles starting to turn pale from how hard he's gripping at the fabric of his jacket.

Oh, how you regretted the words that came from your mouth.

A grim look darkened the features of your brother, who is very obviously irked about all the secrecy already. "Who is it?" The sound of his right foot tapping against the floor sent a shiver of worry down your spine as soon as you heard it. Somehow you missed the rapid movement of his leg bouncing up and down anxiously until now, and for a brief moment you allowed yourself to wonder about how you missed such a simple yet very noticeable action. However, that thought was soon dragged away from you when your brother grunted, thoughtful about his next words. "How long have you two been dating?" You could tell his anger was burning just beneath the surface of his skin, itching to get out, wanting to be known, but he had control over it. For now.

"A few months now," you had hoped that you'd never get to witness his full anger in your lifetime. However, you were clearly heading southbound to face it head on and be on the receiving end of it, none of which gave you much comfort right now. "I also can't tell you his name." You felt like you had been put under a microscope, almost as if all of your expressions, movements, etc, were being analysed for any hints of a lie. 

James sat next to you quietly and rubbed his wrist with his hand a couple of times before yet another grunt escaped from his throat, he pushed his jacket aside with his hands and then placed them on his hips. He pushed himself up from his place on the couch, "A few months?" He moved to stand in front of you, pausing a mere couple of seconds with his back facing you before he turned sharply with a burning gaze that made your skin crawl as the invisible flames licked at your flesh violently.

"Well, actually, if you want me to be more accurate, it is more like eight months." You corrected sheepishly, ducking your head and raising your shoulders to your ears, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

"Eight? Eight fucking months?" He said slowly to get his mind around the news. You nodded your head in response and sucked your lower lip between your front teeth. You didn't know if you should say something or not, so you settled for keeping your mouth shut. "Jesus - fucking - Christ, you've not only been dating someone for eight whole months without even so much as a word about it to me. But you can't even tell me his damn name." James ran his hands through his short brown hair, "or is it because you won't tell me? Hmm? Can't or won't tell me?" He said in an accusatory tone and extended his arm out in front of himself, pointing a large index finger at you. "Because I have got to admit; it doesn't feel like you're being entirely honest with me [Y/N]." With a puff of air, you pressed your lips together into a thin line. Finally, managing to gather the courage to look him in the eyes. You still can't bring yourself to tell him who you're dating, but at least you told him you're dating someone.

You reached up and slapped his hand from your face, "I won't tell you." You growled out through gritted teeth.

“Okay, fine,” he huffed out angrily and threw his hands in the air. “Keep being stubborn.

Rolling your eyes, you shifted your body to stretch out along the couch now that it was free. Your side and shoulder throbbed, the phantom pain of the bullets tearing through you made you shiver involuntarily, "Jim, I know you want to know who it is, but I do need some privacy in my life you know." You shot back, suddenly feeling less scared about his underlying anger issues.

"Okay, I get that. But what if they're dangerous? What then?"

You stared up at him, mulling the question over and hummed, "he could very well be dangerous." He shook his head in disbelief to your answer, you answered so calmly, like it was a normal day-to-day thing to talk about. You continued to stare up at him, jutting your lower lip out into a pout, and nodded your head in acknowledgement to his question. It wasn't like you were fully admitting that Victor was dangerous, however you received a dark look from your brother which made you choke back a small laugh of amusement at his attitude towards the whole thing.

“Can you stop joking around for one damn minute?!” James snapped at you out of frustration for the second time that day. “This is a serious discussion. 

There was no way you would joke about something like that when you told him that your boyfriend could be dangerous. After all, you knew very well that he was, but you found it exciting and hot. Not that you would admit that very personal fact to your brother, or Grace for that matter. You didn't want to deal with them judging you. "I wasn't joking when I said that, Jim. I was simply saying that knowing could be dangerous." You shrugged and paused, tilting your head to the side as the gears in your mind started to turn as you tried to think of something that would reassure your only surviving family. This time, however, your voice came out much quieter than before. "I can handle myself. Nothing bad will happen to me while I am with him.”

"Right," he murmured unconvincingly, his dark eyes drawn to the bloodied bandages wrapped around your shoulder and side, just peeking out from under the black fabric of your clean shirt. "And that's why you're here," he gestured your way, "because you can take care of yourself. Okay, yeah. Sure." It was clear that the way you held yourself, like a bird nursing a broken wing, did very little to convince him that you could take care of yourself. He didn't even need to say that you could barely walk and take care of yourself right now aloud, his unspoken point hung in the air between the two of you like an axe pendulum swinging violently ready to hit someone.

James waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the conversation and blew a heavy breath of air from his lungs. "Just get some rest, we will talk about this in the morning. And you better give me answers."

"That was my plan," you yawned out. You felt exhaustion once again wrap its arms around you tightly. A small noise of satisfaction escaped your lips as you stretched your legs out in front of yourself, relieving the stiffness you felt in your joins. "You're not dad, Jim," keeping your tired dull eyes on your brother who turned his back on you and rolled his shoulders as he went to leave the living room with a quiet grumble about something you couldn't quite catch.

He had only just stepped foot out of the large living room when the loud generic ringtone of your phone rang out through the room, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "Who the hell is that?" James spun back around and stood in the alcove, his eyes scanning the room quickly for the locations of the sound. He most likely thought that he had dropped his phone in all the commotion from earlier, or perhaps Barbara had left hers here. You were hoping he didn't think it was yours and that he'd leave it and go straight to his room.

Your eyes darted towards your neatly folded trousers resting atop your boots and then back to your brother who followed your gaze with his eyes the next time you looked back over to where your phone lay. "[Y/N], who is that?" He repeated the question, taking a large step back into the room.

"That's Grace calling." you squeaked out. Of course, you were lying, Grace rarely called outside work hours. That was, unless it had to do with something important, like your case. You knew exactly who was calling you, and your brother apparently picked up on the lie as soon as it tumbled past your lips. He's always been good at picking up on your likes, and it was infuriating to say the least. The rise of your voice did nothing to make the lie any more believable to your brother’s ears.

"Is it him calling?" The question itself didn't give off the vibe of something you should be answering; it may as well be a rhetorical question since he already knows the answer. He was smart enough that he didn't need you telling him something he already knew. Instead, you chose to shake your head quickly, shooting up into a sitting where you instantly leaned forwards as if you're getting ready to race him to where your phone continued ringing kept coming from. Much like you and James would do while growing up and one of you wanted to use the landline before the other. His eyes narrowed at you as he watched the sudden shift in your body language.

You sat rigid on the edge of the couch cushion. Of course, it had to be Victor calling you, and now James knew that it's someone important to you. He rapidly closed the distance between himself and the location of your phone. Just as he swept your trousers up in his hands and started to search them, you lunged forward, and he turned his back on you, making you collide with his back. He pulled the phone out of the front pocket, but as soon as he did it stopped making a noise. James's brows raised as he looked down at the small square that lit up for the longest moment before it dimmed and went black.

"For the love of god, Jim! Can I please have my phone back?!" You sprang away from him and teetered back a couple of meters. You hoped to hell he would pass the phone back to you before Victor called again, which he would do since you didn't answer the first time around, and he must be worried about you after what happened at the GCPD. "Please?!" You clasped your hands together in front of yourself in a pleading gesture as he turned to you, phone in hand.

“It is him, right?” James asked again, at this point you were getting tired of the repetitive questions. He pressed you for an answer because deep down he knew he was right.

"Yes. It is him." You answered curtly through gritted teeth. Your fingertips and nails pressed into the skin of your knuckles so hard it was beginning to hurt and put strain on your fingers.

A playful smirk made its way onto James's lips as his eyes darted down to the small screen on the front of your phone, the screen still black since last time. "Does he call you every night?" He hooked the corner of his thumb under the lip of the phone and flipped it open with ease to reveal the screen, which cast a white and blue hue of light over his face. His thumb hovered over the buttons that are far too small for his giant man thumbs, returning his curiosity filled eyes back to you.

"No." An obvious lie. “He doesn’t call me every night.” Another blatant lie.

Humming thoughtfully, he pressed the dark grey button in the middle of a small cluster of buttons to bring up the other options on your phone. His eyes darting back and forth between you and your phone as he pressed the smaller arrow keys surrounding the grey button until he landed upon the call log. "Jim!" You snapped at him, tearing your hands apart to reach out and snatch your phone from his grasp, but he pulled his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"I am not doing anything," he teased, the smirk on his face only growing wider with the way you're acting, like it amuses him. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, stamping your foot on the floor like a child being told they couldn't have any more candy before going to bed.

"Relax, I am just playing with you." He sighed out and was about to press one of the buttons when the small black phone in his hand buzzed to life, the screen lighting up and garnering his attention again. The words 'V calling...' displayed on the screen. "Hello?" James shot you a questioning look as he pressed the green button alight on the keypad without hesitation, picking up in mere seconds of the melody starting up. "Hello?" He asked again, pulling the phone away from his ear and looking at the small object in confusion.

Reaching out again, you took advantage of him being distracted and took your phone away from him. "Stop being a fucking jerk, Jim!" yelling angrily at him as you slammed the phone closed to end the call. You could only imagine the look on Victor’s face when your brother answered instead of you. James held his hands up, his brows furrowing.

"Your friend or boyfriend didn't even answer." He told you, lowering his hands as you stood there glaring at him. "And who is V?" You rolled your eyes, curling your fingers around the casing of your phone, holding it to your protectively.

"He didn't answer because you answered my phone and not me." You said defensively, "and it’s honestly none of your damn business who 'V' is! You need to stop acting like dad and more like my fucking brother. Not only that, but you need to let me have my own damn life!" That came out sounding a lot harsher than you intended it to, so you slapped your free hand over your mouth in a failed attempt to keep the words in. Obviously it was too late, and the damage was already done. You stared at him with wide, worry-filled eyes. 

James nodded and took a step back to give you some space, an apologetic look on his face. "I am just concerned about you. And I am trying to keep the only family I have left safe and alive." With that he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room with your hand over your mouth staring after him. You only dropped your hand from your mouth when you heard the click of the light switch and the light went out throughout the apartment. "Just get some sleep," he called back to you before slamming the door to his room shut.

Shuffling backwards while being as careful as you could be as to not step on the remnants of glass scattered across the floor, you sat back down on the soft couch cushions and leaned back. Your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness, you could almost make out a few shapes here and there, a couple of shadows as well.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered out after him. You pulled the scratchy grey blanket from the back of the couch and over your shoulder, covering your lap with it. You felt bad for what you said to him, you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it.

Tag list; @sunlitwritings​, @nheirei, @the-ramblings, @milly-louise

[pretty-setter-bois]

toxic

     ‘I’LL BE LATE’. a small text, really. maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it hadn’t been sent so many times in the past. or if it had been sent at all, in fact.

today was wednesday, the fourth day of the week. this week, it was the fourth time suna was late, but the first time that he’d arrived hours after work without further notice.

you roll over on the couch, coming to the conclusion that the anxiety eating up at you wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

what if he’s gotten tired of me? what if he’s seeing someone else? what if he’ll leave me for someone better?

to anyone else’s perspective, your thought process of the relationship would’ve sounded completely toxic.

the sound of the big hand reaching twelve on the clock was loud. it always was.

eight o'clock.

your mind drifts back to the morning, where suna had been awfully quiet — much quieter than he usually was, anyway. 

“you sure you’ve had enough for breakfast?” you’d pestered.

“yeah, don’t ask me again.” he replied, a small hint of irritation in his usually relaxed tone.

“okay.” you answered, a bit hurt.

the rest of the morning was silent, and suna had left earlier than he usually did.

maybe i should text him, he’s been gone longer than he was for the last two days. but he did sound frustrated this morning, and he was complaining about me being clingy recently.

you decide against your negative thoughts — he was your boyfriend, after all, right?

8:12 PM

me

hey, can you tell me when you’re coming home?

after waiting for a few minutes without a response, you partake in an endless scroll along several apps on social media to take your mind off of the message you sent.

8:57 PM

rin <3

in a few minutes

you shut off your phone, feeling that if you stay on it for too long, you’d get your hopes up. in your dictionary, ‘a few minutes’ from suna meant a little under an hour. if only you could go back to when a few minutes meant a few minutes.

9:00 PM

me

stay safe!

seen

     “OI, SUNA,” WASHIO calls out in his deep voice. “don’t you think it’s time for you to go home?”

“what do you mean?”

“he’s kind of right.” komori says, stirring the ice in his drink. “wouldn’t (Y/N) be worried right now?”

he shrugs, taking his phone out at the mention of your name.

8:12 PM

(Y/N)

hey, can you tell me when you’re coming home?

he places his phone back in his pocket, eyes glancing over to the clock of the bar.

8:30 PM.

practice had ended three-and-a-half hours ago, to be exact. he’d spent the past hour joking around and poking fun at komori’s drinking habits, the time before that being post-practice training.

“i mean, you’ve been late a lot recently. i know if i had someone waiting for me at home, i’d try to avoid being late.” washio speaks again.

“ah, speaking of keeping someone waiting,” komoya stands up. “i’m supposed to be picking sakusa up after his practice, so i’ll get going now.”

“goodbye.” washio nods.

“later.” suna salutes.

after paying his bill, komoya places on his jacket and leaves.

“you might wanna lay off on the drinking a little.” washio suggests.

“we don’t have practice tomorrow, it’s coach’s daughter’s birthday.” suna replies, downing what remained of his drink.

“and friday-”

“is also off, coach has to go to that ‘all japan’ meeting for the coaches in the prefecture.”

“still, it is not wise to consume all of this-”

“another one!” suna calls out to the bartenders.

it was hard to believe how different he could be after a night of drinking. his usual introverted, lazy-self almost transformed after a few glasses of the intoxicated drinks.

this time, he drinks the glass all in one sip, ignoring washio’s warnings of protest.

"suna, it's starting to get late." washio sternly states.

"mhm." suna replies, taking his phone out of his pocket to text you.

8:57 PM

me

in a few minutes

the middle blocker quickly rises to his feet after that, forgetting the 200 milliliters of alcohol he’d consumed a few minutes ago.

he wobbles on his feet, trying to see what was in front of him despite the dark, recurring spots that obstructed his vision.

"hey, suna!" he faintly hears.

his teammate pays the bill, placing the middle blockers arm around his shoulder and taking his leave.

     THE SOUND OF the doorbell was loud in your empty, melancholic apartment, causing your heart to jump and your body to rattle after it. you hastily make your way to the door, half confused and half terrified.

rarely anyone rang the doorbell, and when they did, suna answered it. what if suna was at the door? he usually had his own key, so he didn't need to knock.

you open the door, greeted by the sight of washio struggling to hold a half-asleep suna.

"what happened?" you ask, worried.

"ah, he ended up getting a little carried away..." he sheepishly admits.

suna practically throws himself onto you, head nuzzling into your shoulder.

"thank you, washio-san. sorry for the trouble." you apologize.

"it was nothing at all." he shakes his head. "have a good night."

"you too." you nod, closing the door after he'd left.

"(N/N)." suna mumbles.

your breath hitches. it had been ages since he's called you that. in fact, ages since he's been so touchy.

he often kept his distance from you now, only speaking to you when he was asking you where something was in the apartment or telling you that you need to go grocery shopping.

"yeah?" you respond.

"i'm tired."

"alright, come on."

you take him to the bathroom, pulling down the toilet seat for him to sit on while you brushed his teeth. you'd rather him whine about being sleepy rather than getting a cavity.

when he finished that, you gave him a change of clothes to put on before he'd slept. him, of course, being half-asleep already, couldn't tell half of what was happening, and you ended up helping him in the end.

you'd led him to bed after that, covering him in sheets and wishing him a goodnight. as you began to stand up, he grabs your wrist.

"(Y/N)." he whines a little, voice softer than before.

"yeah, rintaro?"

"don't leave me alone."

the words take a few minutes to register in your mind.

don't leave me alone.

maybe you'd made up the entire morning. what if he was just grumpy? everyone's grumpy in the morning, so it wouldn't make a difference if suna was.

besides, his nature was being lazy. maybe he was just a bit tired and wanted to go on with his day. they say a sober mans thoughts are a drunk mans words, right?

you glance at his face, an innocent expression donning his sleepy features. how could someone like this ever wrong anybody?

"just give me a few minutes." you finally, breathily exclaim.

he gives what you assume is a nod, and you head into the bathroom to brush your own teeth and change.

when you come back, suna's already fast asleep. he looks so peaceful, so happy.

you'd give anything to see him like that again, even if it meant to unintentionally lose yourself in the process.

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TAGLIST ☆☎☂♔

@stfucanunot ​@sunaswife​

NOTES ☀♕❣⁂ღ

i hope i got this write hehe.

[leahseclipse]

Thnks fr th Mmrs - (Event Fic)

++

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Not that I am aware of. (Please let me know if something should be added later on.)

Summary: Just two idiots in love, but none of them have the guts to say it. Eventually one of them will do it, a bit late tho- but, better now than never.

A/N: HELLO!! Here I am, roughly one month after my last fic, this work got all of us busy, which lead to a bit of panic on the last days, but (I think) we made it all in one piece.

This work is part of the Fic Swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins, with the help of @sunlight-moonrise! I’ve had the opportunity to write for @spencer-reid-in-a-pool- which is AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, I love her so so so so much. This was awesome to do. (And yeah, for those who got the ref, the title is from one of fob's songs. I had NO other idea and found this one cool.)

Word Count: 8.7k

++

        As much as I wished for it not to haunt me another day— I still had this one problem, written into my brain with bright red ink, unwashable, as it seemed.

I hated to recall that it still remained there, as if it was an unsolved case that someone would have put into archives and brought back up when they were clearing out the shelves.

Unfortunately, it didn’t get lost, I just forgot it was there, and my brain had the wonderful idea of presenting it back to me.

I appreciate it. That was— quite nice.

It wasn’t that I hated it, I just didn’t like the thought of having to deal with it at barely eight in the morning, just before actually dealing with the problem itself— in person.

That problem—couldn’t be someone else but the only one Spencer Reid, the resident genius of the team, or the baby sibling for some of my co-workers.

Once again, I do not dislike him, on the contrary, he’s one the closest person I have in my life to this day, I wouldn’t imagine my life without him.

The problem is mainly directed towards the love, sentimental kind of problem.

Especially when the concerned person isn’t aware of it.

It gets complicated when you can’t even hide your feelings when they’re near.

I get all nervous and weird when he’s in sight, the proofs are right there.

 I remember them all, from the time I broke a mug when I tried to reach it as he was talking or when I almost fell down the stairs when he came in to work one day, looking like a literal god— and wasn’t even aware of it, the list keeps going on for miles.

And I’m still there, sitting with my feelings, waiting for something to happen.

I’m not even sure that he feels the same way. 

I’m here, admiring him, thinking about what could happen if I could resolve myself to talk about it, if he felt the same way, but strangely and for an unknown reason; I can’t.

This issue has been happening all week, the last one, and probably the whole month.

It took me time to figure it out myself.

I only saw us as two good friends at first; we’d hang out together, had the same hobbies, have long conversations without caring about the time, to the point that people would think that we were together.

But I guess that I never realized that he could be more than just a good friend.

And as it couldn’t be more complicated, in these cases, if none out of the two dares to make a move, or talk, it won’t go much further.

Which is exactly what’s been happening at this moment..

I’ve been liking him for a while now, and my brain doesn’t know to do anything else but attack me with as many questions they can come up with at the same time whenever I dare to think about it. 

What if he does like me, but only as a friend? 

Is it going to be awkward between us?

Am I going to lose my friendship with him because of that?

What if he says no? 

What am I left with? My stupid feelings that will keep wandering around, reminding me of my love failure?

If all of these are the things waiting for me till I decide to stop bottling it up, I better have to solve that, soon.

But at the same time, if I take a glance at the negative side, I’m just thinking that it’d be better to keep our friendship as it is, and just pretend as if he’s only a good friend I’m quite close with, not a possible lover.

Since when did I allow myself to see him as that? I wasn’t doing that before.

What caused my feelings to suddenly appear?

He’s always been nice to me, as with everyone else he’s close with, and as far as I’m aware of it, no one’s been in my situation.

If it ever happened, I’m sure that it was purely platonic and didn’t go as far as I’m at.

It’s as bad as a math problem.

Kind of ironic, considering I both suck at figuring out how to say I love someone, deal with feelings, all that love stuff; and at maths.

But, as I think about it further, he didn’t do anything to keep me from crushing on him either, even if he probably didn’t do it because he liked me.

There’s a 50% possibility.

He’d take me in his arms to reassure me, help me with paperwork when I was tired, offer to drive me home, re-filled my mug for me, act close, and by close- not as close as he is with the others.

A different kind of close.

So...who wouldn’t think that way, that he could like me?

He could possibly like me, but about that, I don’t have a single clue to know if he really does.

I do want to try to ask him, in one way or another, but the thing is that , if he doesn’t like me, what is going to happen next? 

Awkward silence? 

Is he going to try to reject me as nicely as possible to not hurt my feelings?

It could be really nice if anything would help me to make all of this mess any clearer.

I don’t want to end up drawing away from him because I can’t help but be in love with him whenever I look at him, but at the same time, I can’t say that I am, in case he’s not in love with me.

Spencer’s one of the most important people in my life; I wouldn’t imagine a day where I wouldn’t talk to him, and even if we’re busy, I try to say hi to him, at least.

I can’t quite imagine not having him ramble about his favorite subject, happy as hell because I’m interested, listening to him, and even participating in it.

I don’t want all of this to stop because of a mistake I could cause.

So, this week will be the one.

I’ll somehow resolve myself to bring up the subject.

I’m sure he’ll understand, he knows me better than anyone else in the whole team, has always been there when I needed someone, he’s always listened when I needed to talk, he helped me out with a lot of issues.

He’s always been understanding, whether the issue would concern him or not, so this shouldn’t be a big problem.

It’ll be fine.

I just have to relax sometimes.

I’m stressing out too much, and I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t stress that much about that, or any subject he might think about.

I even wonder if Spencer already noticed the changes in my behavior and is just waiting for me to talk about it because he doesn’t dare to talk about it as well.

He could feel the same way.

He could.

There’s a chance, a good one, I guess.

It can end well, and I have to keep thinking about the good outcome.

There’s no way he’d react badly, I know him,— Spencer is not the kind of guy to do that, in general.

I trust him on that.

So, today...or later, will be the right one.

It’ll go well.

It’ll be win or lose, basically.

I sighed as I looked at myself for the hundredth time for the past ten minutes, finally resolving myself to leave the apartment before I’d end up being late.

Which isn’t something I’d like to happen.

My ‘love problem’ counts as at least ten problems more than getting yelled at by a superior (if I’m not overreacting, at least) so I don’t really need that to happen, on top of that.

++

I have never been delighted to walk into the office, only to find paperwork from last week waiting for me.

We usually had the whole ‘Garcia runs into the office and throws papers at us before we gather in the conference room and immediately go on a jet at whatever unpleasant hour’ or just purely lazy days where none of us have the strength for any kind of celebration.

But today happened to be a calm one, we just had to do whatever task we had left to do before we can allow ourselves to go back home to either sleep all day to fix our long broken sleep schedule, or do whatever event we might come with, such as dates or trying to find a guy in a party, for some of us.

It’s nice that we don’t have to worry about when we’ll be able to come back to work, we just go in, do our task and go home at whatever hour, a decent one.

I’d say that this happened to be more than convenient -in a way- for Spencer and I.

More time for talking, hanging out together, mostly what we do when not on an active case.

If I’m not mistaken, I think that I may have heard one of them saying that we were dating because of how frequently we’d be found together.

I did want to say we were dating as a joke, but I was afraid that it’d end up being awkward after that if- as said earlier when I woke up-, he didn’t feel the same.

But at the same time, whether he feels the same way or not, I don’t really have a reason to think about that as Spencer wouldn’t react badly.

Knowing him, he’d probably play along.

At my arrival at the bureau; everyone was scattered a bit around; which wasn’t to be seen on a case day, usually.

We just had to hope we wouldn't have a surprise case to ruin it all.

As I greeted everyone before settling at my desk, I noticed one person missing.

Spencer wasn't usually late, so...I didn't really know what might make him late.

Knowing him, he may have woken up late because he had watched tv till 2AM, and ran to the coffee shop to not look dead at his arrival. 

Yep, that’s him.

Let’s hope he won’t break a bone when he’s going to attempt to run to not be late, it’s...yeah.

So, don’t rush Spencer, it’s calm as hell here, you don’t need a trip to the ER so soon in the morning.

“Oh, hey!”

I turned around to be faced with Spencer, papers in hand. “When did you get there? I didn’t see you when I arrived like...five minutes ago. I thought you weren’t here yet.”

“Oh, I was doing copies. I’m sorry if I worried you, I should have sent a text.”

“No- It’s okay, don’t worry. You’re here...now.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Do you have a lot of paperwork? Figured out we could talk in between.” He asked.

“No, I don’t have a lot, and...sure, I could use a talk- I mean uh...talk, yeah.”

That was a shitty save.

“I’m glad, I didn't want to bother you if you were busy.”

“Even if my whole desk was covered in papers, you know I’d always find a minute to talk. I get easily distracted.”

Please don’t take it the ‘love’ way, or just...don’t think I get distracted by you in a ‘not-a-friend’ way— gosh, I’m not gonna be able to save it with whatever sentence.

“You know that’s the same for me. I always have a hundred subjects popping up just when I try to focus.”

“Yeah, same. It’s a bit...annoying.” 

“Depends. It’s not really when you’re in them.” Spencer admitted.

Is this an attempt at killing me right on the spot? You’re really going to kill me by being so damn nice.

“Oh...really? I didn’t know.”

That was shit.

“Well uh...now you do that it’s not always annoying up there and that’s your part of the non-bothering stuff.” He pointed out.

“That’s the- same for you, yeah.” I answered, slightly nervous.

“Didn’t know we had that too in common, that’s funny.”

Not so sure about the other detail you don’t know about-

“We learn new stuff everyday at least. I guess it’s...useful to know? I don’t know.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, there’s not much to do with that information, it’s more of a...fact thing-y. You know I like that stuff.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Who doesn’t?”

“Yeah, everyone does at this point, but that’s a quarter of what they know, I think that you’re the only one that knows the most about me, not everyone.”

You have to stop before I drop dead on the floor right now.

“I have to remind you that it’s kind of the same for you.”

“People are definitely thinking we’re together at this point, we’re pretty close so they have every right to believe that.”

“Does it...bother you?”

“Oh, no, not really. You’re a pretty girl so that’s kind of...nice that they think that a nerd like me could be in a relationship with you.”

Okay, I just stopped functioning right now.

What am I supposed to even say? You’re a literal god, you’re handsome as HELL- 

“Oh- you’re uh- good looking so, that’s...normal I guess.”

“You think so?” He asked, unsure.

Oh, please. Tell me you’re kidding, it’s impossible that no one hasn’t told you of your AMAZING handsomeness, the fact that you’re amazingly-

Yeah, we got it y/n. 

“Yeah, really.” I confirmed.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, Spence.” I said, as we both went to our respective tasks.

At least I avoided a heart attack, that’s what matters, he just has to stop being so cute and pretty, all the time because I’m gonna have trouble acting like I’m not in fucking love with him if he keeps going.

Just- breathe, and focus on your work. 

We’re gonna talk together, and it’s gonna be okay.

There’s no reason that a problem would occur, I just had a talk with him, and it went...almost perfectly smooth. 

The ‘almost’ part is when I almost had a heart attack, which isn’t the first I’ve had with him, and won’t be the last.

If he would just stop being so handsome all of the time.

I sighed, reading the paper all over again as I lost focus...again.

As I was reading, my pen in hand and the tip of it slightly touching the sheet— I didn’t even realize that I had been scribbling on the paper, as if I was in middle school and bored in class all over again.

It was kind of….fun. 

I didn’t get to do that everyday, so I’d say that it was diversifying compared to any other stressful day where these...doodles wouldn't even happen or to be thought about because of the amount and importance of the work.

I still think about him, even when I’m busy as hell though.

He’s always in my thoughts, I don't know how he does it because I’m pretty sure I don’t do that with anyone else in the bureau. 

Is that kind of over thinking considered as an obsession or not at this point? I’m not quite sure of it anymore, but...it's not "psychopath, stalker-like", he's just an important person that matters to me.

I just really like him, that’s all.

He also told me that I tend to be in his mind often, so...I guess we're even.

I guess so.

“Hey, is everything...okay? You’ve been staring blankly for a...while. Is that my-” He started to point out.

I panicked, quickly hiding the papers with other ones. “What? Oh, uh...I was-” I blurted out. “...thinking.”

“You’ll probably have to...print out new ones. I don't think Hotch will accept papers with scribbles, you know. I can print out some copies for you, if you want?”

“No- It’s fine, I can go, thanks for asking! It’s nice of you but uh- I’m going.” I answered, as I abruptly clicked back on the software to print out copies, and walked to the breakroom after...awkwardly waving.

Why the hell was I scribbling down his name like I was...a middle schooler having a crush on her classmate?

I have no idea why, but this was...kind of embarrassing at the moment.

I seriously have to stop worrying about each thing that happens.

He probably didn’t care as much as I did.

I shook my head as I arrived in the breakroom, now empty as Luke and Matt had previously left from what I saw a bit ago when I looked in that direction.

I didn’t mind, at least I’d avoid embarrassment because of how weird my expression probably looks.

So, everyone, please don’t come now, wait until I pick up my papers, that’d be more than appreciated.

++

Should I call Spencer?

I don’t want to be a bother, I know he enjoys spending time alone off work.

Would he be happy to hear me?

I don’t know.

I’ll call him later, if I’m settled on it.

I’ve been pacing in that small apartment of mine for at least the last couple of minutes, or maybe an hour, I don’t have the habit of noting the duration of my nonsense usually.

I don’t even know why I’m pacing again and again just to decide about a call.

I’m sure he doesn’t even do that.

Does that mean it makes me...crazy?

Not necessarily.

It could.

Maybe.

I’ll just- whatever.

Do something useful like cleaning your apartment and answering emails, and you’ll see if you have a minute to spare to call Spencer.

That works that way.

See, you can stop stressing.

Just do another task to distract yourself and have less things to worry about, so it’ll be easier to decide about the ‘call matter’ thingy.

++

I did not call him, if that’s what anyone wondered.

The only call I made was with Penelope, after she called me numerous times to ask me about the books we’ve been yelling about for a few weeks.

I had supposed she had also wanted to talk about Spencer, as the whole office had been conspiring about our possible relationship.

But, she held it off, and cut the call after saying ‘I better hang up or I’ll be talking about the book for another decade’.

Kind of looks like me and my thoughts with Spencer.

I hope I’ll get to let all of those out, if we ever have the chance to have a talk about the feelings matter.

I never had that many ‘things matters’, I’m even inventing some new words along the way.

Crazy what love can do, if that’s what started it.

I can’t recall that either, I’ve been more focusing on the matter itself than the name of it.

Love will do, I guess.

++

“What are you up to?” I asked, peering over Spencer’s desk.”

“Well, technically...nothing new. I’ve been reading that for the past week, I tend to do that with books I really like.” He closed it, looking at me. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all. I’m doing the same with shows and movies, and even- who cares if it’s weird? If we like doing that, we don’t have to worry about what others might think about it.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t worry that much.”

“I worry about small things too, you’re not alone on the ride.” I pointed out, sitting back at my desk.

“Glad to know I have someone I’m sure won’t judge on that.”

“I would never judge you on anything, well- aside from the ‘sugar’ matter we’ve been having for a while, nothing else.”

“You’ll be debating about it for a while then. I’m not about to stop having my ‘sugar with my coffee’, as Morgan says.”

“The amount you put in it is disgusting.”

“Not to me.”

“Well it is to me, and probably everyone else. How do you not get sick?”

“No idea. I’ve been doing that for years and never had problems of any kind. Maybe you’re all the ones that are weird.”

“Hey! You’re weird too. If you wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t be talking with you.”

“I’m less weird than you, at least.”

“Pff. Just get back to work, weirdo.”

I love you, weird genius.

++

No, I didn’t get to talk to him about the…’love matter thingy’.

We did spend a lot of time together but I didn’t get the nerve to find a way to ask, instead of going straight to the thing.

I have no idea if I was imagining things or if it was real but...he did look a lot like me, and...his look wasn’t the kind of look you’d give a friend.

He also seemed...nervous, I guess?

Would it be wrong for me to think that he could possibly like me, as well?

That’s better than always thinking he doesn’t, a little hope doesn’t hurt, it’s always nice to think on the bright side for once.

Maybe I could be right.

I kind of hope I am.

++

I didn’t think till now that it would be such a relief to see my whole desk cleared from most of the papers.

 I’ve turned in most of my reports- and that kind of sounds like I’m talking as if I’m in school and turning in assignments at the end of the day to be honest.

All of the papers that laid around were gone, and it kind of seemed like the work day had reached its end.

It kind of was a nice day, it’s nice to have days like that from time to time to take a break from all of the stress and shit from cases.

As I had gathered back all of my stuff, and all that was in mind was to walk out of here and rush to my apartment.

Just as I turned around, Spencer was standing in front of me; I didn’t even see him come by.

“You- gosh, you really scared me. Speak up next time.” I said, nervously laughing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- Did you uh...get hurt?”

“No, I didn’t have- get anything. I’m okay, thanks- Are you going home too?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am and...I also-”

“You also…?”

“I wanted to talk to you...again, about something.”

I feel like that ‘something’ might be the ‘something’ I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for weeks.

“Uh, go ahead, I guess. I can’t really start the conversation as I have no idea what it’s about…”

“Okay, uh...I’ve been uh, wanting to ask, for a while, if you wanted to hang out, sometimes. I know we do, pretty often, but I’d be like...hanging out together, maybe dinner...” He looked elsewhere, searching for his words.

“...you mean a date? Is that...what you want to say?”

“Yeah, that! I just- I thought I’d be weird to ask you, just like that. I mean...it’s kind of random and I thought that- you understood the thing.”

Please, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for a decade, how could I not understand that-

“It’s not weird, I’m just...surprised?”

“Oh, I’m- glad? I just...didn’t think you’d accept and...I was kind of afraid that I’d make a fool of myself by asking you that.”

“Wait a minute though-  You’re really asking me out, right now? I’m not making fun of you, it’s just still...wow.”

I just thought you would never do it, or that I’d be the one asking and receiving a negative answer.

“I swear that I’m not. I’d never joke about that, especially to you, and since I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I guess I was afraid of the answer.”

“Please don’t laugh, or anything but...kind of the same thing was happening to me, about you.”

“So...we’ve been thinking about it, and none of us knew? Wow, that’s...I didn’t think that was happening all this time.”

“Seems so.”

“Have you been uh...thinking about it for a while, like me?”

“Kind of...yeah. I’ve...liked you for a while but, didn’t think you’d be interested. I’ve had a lot of male friends that were acting like you, but weren’t interested in me, so I thought...that was the case.” I admitted.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate you, and not only in a friendly way. I’ve liked you for a bit, and as I said, I was afraid of what you’d say, so...I told myself that waiting for the right moment would be better.”

“....yeah, same. I don’t think we’d ever get to have a conversation about it but- did you uh...resolved yourself to do it because of…”

“..the paper thing? Yeah, and no. It’s been on my mind for a bit. I just thought this would...kind of- be the right moment. I know that it's not the ideal place, but I just thought, it’s now or never.”

“At least...it’s cleared out?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is. I’m glad we know about...the feelings stuff and all.”

“You have no idea how I am. This is- wow, sorry, this was kind of sudden, and I...didn’t think that’d happen. Just this morning I thought about talking about it somewhere this week and now- did you read my expression or something and guessed or…? Because just as I thought about it, you talked to me.” I explained.

“I guess so. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, and...I didn’t want to wait more as I wouldn’t have ever talked, as for you.”

“Would you have waited another week for me to tell it or would you have stepped in before?”

“I think it would have depended on where we would be. Because, if we were outside, I think that I would have preferred something nicer than a bureau, you know. Even if I like it, to be honest. But, I wouldn’t say it’s the best setup to ask someone on a date?”

I shrugged. “Not the best, but, it’s better than- I don’t know...a grocery store or something?” 

“Yeah- it’s better.”

“At least you’ll get a better shot at asking me out on another date after that one.”

“I’ll definitely do better.”

“I trust you on that one. But- I want to home right now though, I kind of miss my couch...and my fridge, maybe.”

“I’m with you on both ones- after you.” Spencer offered, as the elevator opened, stepping in after me. 

“Be careful with the whole gentlemen thing, you’re gonna have to bring me coffee everyday soon.”

“I’m already doing that with mine, bringing yours won’t hurt. You’ll probably have a bill at the end of each month.”

“In your dreams, Reid.”

++

The care that had been put by Spencer on our first date was truly amazing.

It looked like he planned it months ago, it could almost be seen as a kind of proposal if someone else would see it.

He insisted on picking me up himself, did not tell me a single thing about where we were going till we were there, which was weird...but made it exciting and fun.

I have to say that I was...quite nervous too.

I never even thought that I’d be here, on a literal date with Spencer Reid himself; I’ve had dreams about it, thought about it, but never thought it’d actually happen.

None of this was a joke, he was more than serious about it.

I don’t think that even one thought I had looked like this moment, he insisted for it to be an awesome first date we’d both remember for a while, and I wish it could have lasted longer.

Time went by, way too fast that when we both saw the time, it was already 10PM.

As we could have work, and that sleeping early would be convenient if we happen to be called in early, we decided to end the night there, even if none of us really wanted to.

“We should stay in next time. That way we won’t be tired, you know. It’s kind of late.” Spencer pointed out, as we walked to my place.

“You sure? It’s gonna be Grey’s Anatomy or whatever cheesy tv show I watch for the night.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll probably try to point out the mistakes, it’ll be like...a game night you know.”

“Oh, yeah. It could. But, I think I’m gonna be the one to lose as the only ‘medical knowledge’ I have from that show is from that show. And, as Google isn’t to be trusted, I’m gonna lose.”

“It could also include a...spot cheesy moments thing.”

“Season one is full of it. We’re gonna have a lot to talk about. I would have proposed Star Trek but apparently, there’s not much scientific errors, it’s pretty accurate from what I heard. We could settle on Doctor Who if we can’t decide.”

“Would you like it though? You told me you don’t watch it usually.”

“You could tell me about it, it could be good. We could also try Supernatural, it’s kind of mystery stuff with paranormal stuff?”

“Ghosts, spirit and the whole heaven/hell thing?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot going on. And...it's kind of in the title. I’d have to warn you though, I’m kind of obsessed with the main leads, so don't get jealous or something.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. It’s a judgement free-zone.”

You raised your eyebrows, staying silent for a split second.“...you judged me when I didn’t add any sugar in my coffee.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Spencer, please- you looked at me weirdly, as if I committed a crime.” 

“Not in a mean way- I just put a ton, so, seeing someone putting none was weird.” He admitted.

“I’m judging you on that then. You’re putting way too much in that. It’s sugar with liquid at this point, it's melted candy.”

“I hate the strong taste.”

“Then drink tea.” I proposed.

“It’s too light.”

“Just end up drinking water.” I said, running out of ideas.

“No, I prefer to stay with my sugar with liquid.”

As you wish.” I agreed, as we came to a stop.

“So...we’re there.”

“Yep, we are. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Spencer repeated, coming forward to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Have a good night.”

“Spencer, you missed. You kissed my cheek.”

“Oh I- are you fine with it…?”

“Just kiss me, Reid.” I replied back, while one of his came on my left cheek, the other laying on my waist as he stepped forward once again, kissing me on the lips.

All of it was perfect.

It was only the two of us, the world around us had froze.

My arms ended up winding up around his neck as he brought me close, his warmth, smell invading my emotions, my whole thoughts.

I had totally forgotten about everything else, he was the center of my attention, I couldn’t allow myself to go on another track when he happened to be near me, this close.

Never have I thought that months ago, as I was crushing on a man I thought wouldn’t like me, would actually like me, and kiss me.

We were literally starting to date.

This better be real, I better not be in a coma after whatever accident I might have had.

Because this— this is way better than a dream, than I imagined.

I would be so mad if that wouldn’t end up to be real— but it is.

All of the things I’d feel, whether it was him, his hand on my cheek radiating his warmth on me, his breath, his lips slotting against mine, his arm enlacing my waist, the grip on my waist gentle, the feeling of the fabric of his jacket against my fingers, or even my own feelings, all of the memories, thoughts floating around, there was just way too many things to describe, but I could still list them all of a sudden if I were to be asked about the aftermath of it.

I couldn’t wish for a better moment like this.

I think that the fact that this moment was probably totally unexpected made it even more special for the two of us.

Neither of us will forget, ever.

This moment totally replaced the message written in bright red ink that reminded me that I still had these feelings laying around that I kept pushing away by fear of rejection.

The rejection seemed long gone, for me, he happened to be having similar feelings, probably fearing a negative event as well.

Turns out nothing bad happened for the both of us.

Only our truest desires, what we wished for but didn’t dare to as the bad ones were stronger.

The bad pushed the joy we could have really lived if the feelings were mutual.

And now, it is.

We both know that the other likes us, that the bad is long gone behind us.

I could tell that, from my side, because of this moment.

I didn’t want it to stop, ever.

I wished to live this kind of event that could give the chance for all of these amazing feelings to fill my whole mind.

No more fear, pain, sadness, just calm, reassuring, soothing feelings.

The ones that make you feel that nothing can hurt you anymore, that make you feel safe, happy, this is all I’ve ever wanted.

I didn’t even count how many minutes that lasted, I was too focused on...the wonderful person in front of me and all the feelings that came with it.

It was quite the overwhelming one, and for once, it wasn’t an unpleasant overwhelming, it made me feel happy.

Mostly because I’d never thought feelings could be so deep, numerous, amazing to think about, and then, even more happy feelings would pop up again, and again.

I’d almost forgotten we were still in front of my building, and that it was...really late.

I almost think that I didn’t remember the world had kept moving, that people walked by to see two people making out in the street.

I guess I sort of apologize, but don’t really care.

I was in my moment and did not care if anyone saw us.

When we both slowed down in our movements, ceasing after a few seconds; I slightly stepped back, letting his hand rest on my cheek for a little bit more when I put mine on his.

I simply didn’t want the feeling of his warmth to ever stop.

I did not want any of what this moment made me feel to ever stop after I had to experience it with no one but a person that deeply matters to me.

The only person I’ve ever wanted to feel this kind of amazing feelings with.

I didn’t want it to stop.

Not yet.

Not ever.

It was amazing.

He was amazing.

As we both started to take our breaths back, when his hand dropped from my cheek to my waist, joining the other, the feeling of looking in his eyes once again was astounding.

It was just a glance.

But, when you happen to be in total love, it isn’t just a simple glance, it’s always a special one.

What you feel about it won’t ever change.

I’m sure of it, in my case.

I wish I could be looking at him forever.

But...not that I want to ruin the moment but, it was really late, and windy.

Not the best time to look at each other for hours.

After a certain amount of time, Spencer had been the one to briefly break contact, before maintaining it once again, but with a different emotion plastered on his face this time.

“I’m sorry for...before, I panicked and I-”

Okay, here goes nothing.

“I don’t want you to go yet.” I admitted. “That's kind of the reason...I said and did that too. I wanted to kiss you but, it was also to feel you close a bit more, a four hour date wasn’t enough and I don’t think it’ll ever be.”

He seemed surprised at my confession.

Just say something, I hate it when there’s a blank.

Especially when I just said this to you.

“...if you want me to stay, just tell me.” He said. “I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want. Even for a whole week, a month, hell- forever, let’s be crazy.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just feel like I would be bothering you.”

“You’re not. I’m actually happy to get to stay more. It’s not bothersome at all, on the contrary. I’m happy to stay.”

I’m happy too.

“Thanks for that. I really...appreciate it.” I admitted.

“The pleasure’s mine.”

“Wow, you’re playing it ‘gentleman-like’ now?”

“I guess so. I would also say it can be because I’ve seen a bit too much of Miraculous Ladybug when I was babysitting kids. Cat Noir’s nice.”

“You know lines of Cat Noir?”

“Yeah, I picked up a few one.”

“Really? You’re gonna say them all the time now?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“I’m never gonna get used to that. It’s weird hearing you say that.”

“But it’s romantic, there’s a lot in the TV shows you watch. The characters do that too.”

“But you’re not one of the characters, you’re Spencer Reid. You’re yourself. You don’t need to throw Cat Noir lines to charm me or something. Just you...is enough.”

“You sound like ladybug...and also Marinette.”

“We’re kind of them- well- kind of, as what we deal with isn’t...close to a kid’s show, but, we save people.”

“Oh, we should-”

“No, I’m not dressing up as ladybug for halloween.”

“...can’t say I didn’t try.”

“There’s no way I’m dressing up in a suit-” I argued.

“We would have been equal, I’d be in one too.”

“I’m not doing it-”

“...guess I’ll have to come up with something else then.”

“Yeah. We have at least six months to think about it so...that’s enough for me, I guess.”

“It’s short. We’re gonna end up one week before.” He complained.

“Stop worrying about that- just get inside with me, it’s getting cold.”

“I could give you my sweater and jacket, I don’t mind.”

“Just- get inside Reid.”

“I was joking!”

“Sure you do. Do you think I’d stay outside for another hour?”

“I just thought it was because you were cold-”

“I’m gonna check if you don’t have a fever when we get up- you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Nah, you’re a bit tired, from what you said.”

“I didn’t actually mean it.”

“Sure, let’s get you to bed, grandpa.”

"I'm 32-"

"So?"

"I don't see why you call me grandpa."

"You don't have the reference? The meme, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"You're disappointing, Reid."

++

“Is it going to get worse in later seasons? It’s too calm.” Spencer pointed out.

“Uh...possibly. Season one is pretty calm, not- entirely, but...okay compared to later ones. There’s a lot going on in Supernatural, and it gets pretty hard when you get attached to the characters. The writers like to hurt us.”

“They’re taking all of the pain of the fans on twitter as inspiration.”  

I snorted. “I’m really starting to wonder if it’s not the case at this point.”

“I noticed they tend to do that at the end of seasons too. They throw in a cliffhanger where you think that the character is going to die, and then, they make you wait months...just to show they had a scratch on the arm.” He explained.

“It’s true...they did that a lot of times. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen after season one though. I bet it’s only going to get worse.”

“Probably. I bet they won’t be extra nice with letting them live peacefully.”

“You…” I stopped in my sentence, yawning. “...said it. Sorry- I’m a bit tired.” I said, rubbing my eyes.

"Oh you should probably- go to bed, yeah. I'll leave the bed to you, you know."

"Why would you sleep on the couch?"

"Uh...well, uh...I don't know."

"We're sleeping in the same bed, it's not the end of the world."

"...are you uh- sure?"

"I guess. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

“I just figured that...it’d be sort of embarrassing, or even awkward for you.”

“I don’t get why it would be, it’s okay. Plus, you deserve to sleep comfortably if you’re tired as well.”

“Okay, then.”

I paused for a bit, thinking about a detail. “...It’s probably stupid to ask, but...which side do you usually prefer? Just so that, there aren't any problems if you sleep on a specific one, you know.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be taking you side or anything, as you said, if you prefer a specific...one.”

“Why did you think I asked? And, in case we prefer the same, we’ll just settle on one, that's all I can think of.”

“...it wasn’t stupid to ask though.” Spencer reassured.

“Really? I...it’s not everyday that I ask that kind of stuff, especially as this situation doesn’t happen everyday. But, at least, I can say that I’ve already done it. It’s...something.”

“Yeah, same. It’s just...I don’t know, what would you call it?”

“Half stupid, half nice? I have no idea as well.” I admitted.

“...we can just leave it there, we’ll never find it.”

“True- Are you coming, or doing a whole routine like drinking water, going to the bathroom, tidying up everything, checking mails and all of the possible stuff that you could do?”

“Do you really think I could be doing that?”

“Kind of. Wouldn’t be surprising if you were doing that. But I’d say it’s a waste of time, if it’s 10PM, you end up going at 11:30 something. The least I’d do would be...water and bathroom. But again- I won’t criticize, it’s fine with me. Just don’t make hella noise.” I detailed.

“I just...check mails...a lot, yeah. Also uh...I make sure everything is ready in case we get called in so I don’t rush; so, I do a lot of stuff. But as if it’s a calm week, I guess I can skip getting the bag ready, and probably mails as I answer them later.”

“That’s...good to know at least. Less stress before going to bed.”

“Kind of. I tend to do all of the stuff I forget all day at night, which causes me to do a lot of stuff, being afraid that they won’t be done on time, so...it’s nice to have less stress.”

“Really nice after what you said.” I pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay though? We’re only sharing a bed, it isn’t the end of the world, if that’s the thing that bothers you.”

“No, you’re not….it isn’t- It’s not the problem. I just, never really...did it, and...I have no idea why I’m stressing over that. It’s kind of stupid as we’re just gonna sleep.”

“You’ll be out like a light in two minutes Spence, it won’t be a problem if that’s what stresses you out. Also, it kind of is...the feeling you can’t describe, and me neither. It’s like...stress, awkwardness, a mix, you know.”

“Exactly, it’s kind of that.” He agreed.

“Didn't know we were thinking the same about that. Well, I guess we’ll see. We should go before it’s too late.”

“Yeah, we...probably should.” 

“Relax up a bit. Just chill.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed.” He argued.

“No you’re not. Stop lying, I don’t even need to profile you to know. You’re like a balloon ready to explode.”

“I really don’t see what you’re talking about, y/n.” He muttered.

“Did anyone tell you that you’re very convincing? Turns out they were lying, genius.”

++

“I think I’m the one freaking out now.” I admitted, out of the blue.

“I’m not really freaking out anymore. I guess I gave all of my stress away to you.”

“It’s quite thoughtful, thanks.”

“Maybe you’re just hot, who knows. I’m fine on my side.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not hot, it was freezing cold outside, so it is inside. I know when it’s hot and when it’s not.”

“Uh then...try to take deep breaths? I don’t know what you could do.”

Why don’t you try to be less handsome, huh?

“I think it’s the awkwardness and stress mix kicking in, as I said earlier.”

“Do you want to talk for a bit? Maybe it’ll calm you down.”

“Sure, why not.” I agreed, turning to the other side to face him.

That guy has to realize that his face is what’s distracting me.

“What did you think about today?” He asked.

“It was...really fun. Quite more than I expected I think. I guess I’d be down for other ones.”

“I can’t guarantee I’m not going to slide one or two essays in it though.”

“I’m fine with it. You know listening to you...never bothered me. I don’t think it’ll ever bore me. Who doesn’t like a few facts?”

“Even when it’s all about science or pagan rituals? The cop looked at me weirdly and even asked what kind of doctor I was. Someone else had to talk to revive the conversation.”

You bet, not everyone’s used to it.

“I do remember that one. You looked pretty...proud about it when you finished the sentence. I swear that I would have revived it first or would have kept going. I know a bit about it. What did you say to creep him out?”

“I think that...there was candle wax on the tree, and I said the usual stuff, as a matter of fact, it was used to protect the birth day celebrants from demons, and that the celebration got rejected by Christianity as a pagan ritual’. That’s when he asked.”

That totally explains.

“It wasn’t embarrassing, don’t worry. He just...wasn’t used to that. That almost happens with every new person you meet. I’m out of the ‘almost’ I guess. I was surprised, but got kind of interested.”

“Again, that was surprising. Not everyone would have reacted like you did. I know the others try not to hurt me and listen to it until it’s enough.”

“It’s distracting sometimes, you can always keep going. But not too late, 2AM essays aren’t my thing. Sleeping at 2AM is.”

Getting to sleep at 2AM doesn’t even matter anymore, I’m just glad to be able to sleep.

“I’ll try then.”

“You better.” I warned, pulling my jacket closer to my body as I felt a few chills.

His gaze hadn’t left my figure, hence, he noticed. “...you’re still cold?”

“A bit, I guess.”

“Do you uh...want to...get closer?”

“If you don’t mind, I don’t know. I don’t want it to be embarrassing.”

“It’s not, I swear. I just don’t want you to freeze, I guess.” He admitted, raising one of his arms.

“Okay, thanks.” I slowly got closer, not wanting to invade too much.

“I said you could get closer, that is barely closer than before. Come here.” He pointed out, which I responded to with a sigh as my head ended up resting against his chest. “I told you it wasn’t weird.”

“I thought it’d be for you.” I answered.

“It’s not...anymore. It’s actually fine...now that you’re here.”

“...really? You were kind of stressed about it just a bit ago.”

“Don’t remind me, it’s embarrassing again now. Do as your brain is a computer and delete the file.”

You’re the computer, I’m not.

“It’s fun when you react like that, why would I stop?”

“That’s offending.”

“You, offended? I don’t think so. You don’t sound like it, you’re acting.”

“That hurted my feelings even more, I think my heart might die because of such cruelty. You should be careful with your words, my lady.”

“You’re starting to look like Cat Noir. It’s cheesy. I didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“Maybe I am Cat Noir, who knows.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to give back your power, you’re not supposed to say it.”

That shows how many nights I’ve spent babysitting kids, especially Matt’s, they watch it way too much.

“Never said I was.”

I kind of wish you were, it’d be fun to see you in that costume.

“Spencer, you sound like him now. You’re definitely him, can’t change my mind about that.”

“I just sound like him, doesn’t mean I am.”

“I have the last word, stop.”

“Okay, I’m stopping. But you have to sleep first, I’m not sleeping until you’re asleep.”

“...bossy.” I spat.

“I’m taking care of you, I’m not bossy.”

“...what’ver.”

“Whatever, right.” Spencer repeated, hesitating for a bit before putting his lips on my forehead, softly kissing it a few times. “I totally agree with you.”

“Mhm.” I lazily said, growing a bit more tired.

“Good night, y/n.”

++

Nothing much had been planned for today; so when I had woken up, I really didn’t need to feel stressed about rushing into work as most of it would only be paperwork.

Spencer was still asleep. He had stirred up a bit when I stood up, but it didn’t wake him much. He was sleeping as a baby, even when I accidentally banged my foot against a shelf, nothing woke him up.

I exited the room with a chuckle, heading to the kitchen aisle to fill up a glass of water; sitting on the counter when I had the glass in hand.

It wasn’t really late, just about 8AM, I could still head to work around 9 or 10 as our work hours were to be chosen by us when nothing urgent was to be done; but, the limit was still about 10AM, the hour to be chosen more freely was around the end of the day.

Too bad we can’t head in somewhere in the afternoon.

I hate that work just for that.

I slightly jumped from the counter, peering over the bedroom to see Spencer still sound asleep, only his position had changed.

As I looked in the room, his sweater had been messily put on one of the chairs in the corner, almost at the edge of it.

Time to make jokes and steal a sweater. 

I slightly laughed, walking to the chair as I grabbed the sweater, heading back outside when I had the item in hand.

In a few seconds, I had put my head in the top hole, then my arms in the sleeves, arranging the sweater afterwards.

Good luck to get it back, Reid.

++

“Hey, did you-”  Spencer asks, before putting his eyes on me. “Is that my sweater, or am I having hallucinations?”

“That is your sweater, indeed. You’re not hallucinating.”

“Is it being rude to ask why you’re wearing it?”

“I don’t know, I like it.”

“And...is it possible to get it back later?”

“Not sure….no.”

“At least you were clear.” Spencer chuckled, sitting on the couch as I joined him after a minute.

“Last night was really nice. I appreciated the forehead kisses.”

“I just...felt like it would be reassuring, glad to know that. I could do it often if you’d like to. I don’t mind.”

“Every night, no matter the situation. If we leave and don’t see each other for a few hours, forehead kisses, even if we don’t sleep at the other’s place, forehead kisses- basically every time we have to separate for a bit. But- you can also do it when we’re together, so...correction, all the time.”

“Gotcha, all the time.”

“I may give you back your sweater at some point if you keep your promise.”

“I don’t actually mind, you can keep it. Just tell me when you take my clothes so I don’t think that some alien stole my clothes in the night.”

“I’ll send you a text every time I’ll be taking one. You might receive a lot though…”

“Just try to leave two or three shirts and some pants so I don’t have to go out in the street naked.”

“I will- don’t worry.” I said, laughing.

“Too bad I can’t take yours in exchange. I’m not a fan of...tops.”

“You know what? That’s not a bad idea. I’m gonna take everything in your closet and only leave pants and that top. Thanks for the idea!” I thanked, getting up from the couch as he tried to catch me when I started to run.

At least now, I can’t say that I had a bad week.

It was better than expected;

For...probably the both of us.

++

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