#I’d give anything to be there right now

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, soap x reader, reader injury (not described), structural accident (vague), saviour complex, implied forced isolation, reliance, pushy soap - Dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Johnny who could never, ever find it in himself to become a product of the bystander effect. At any given moment, he trusts his own judgment and experience above anyone else’s, a survival instinct wedged into his mind like shrapnel.

So when you find yourself victim to an unfortunate structural collapse, you wonder if it’s an angel barking out orders. “You- Grey shirt!” You could faintly hear. The voice was commanding, leaving no room for question or refusal. “Call EMS!”

Johnny who is right beside you when you wake up in an uncomfortable hospital bed, forearms flexed tensely over well-filled out worn denim jeans in the seat usually reserved for spouse or family. Says you got caught up in a freak accident, that he was the one to pull you out of rubble.

You’re later informed that your injuries are there, but none are life threatening. Tacks on that this might not have been the case if you hadn’t been rescued so quickly. When you finally make contact over the phone with a family member, they huff and puff about not being let in to see you. Johnny admits to pulling some strings to block anyone from coming in, assures you he just wanted to make sure you were on good terms with them. “Loads of creeps ou’there, aye?”

Johnny who relentlessly digs his way into your life after your discharge. At first it’s little offers; giving you his number if you need anything, which bleeds into “ye’ cannae drive like tha’, let me take ye’ on yer’ errands,” or “let me drop you off at yer’ follow up.” This becomes “well I was in the neighbourhood and figured I’d drop off some takeaway- tugs at m’heart to think about y’havin’ to make meals in yer’ sorry state.” and then suddenly, Johnny’s warm body is pressed carefully against yours in bed as he’s blathering on into your skin about how proud he is of your progress. Presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wonders where you’d be without him before he hooks a thick bicep under your neck and laughs, tells you that he’s glad you’re his responsibility now. “Would’nae have it any other way.”

[amourquinn]

RED LIPSTICK ; quinn hughes ( drabble )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 704

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : before leaving for a girls’ night out, you leave quinn covered in red lipstick kisses, promising there’s more to come when you return

the excitement of the girls’ night out was palpable, but there was something even more exciting happening right now.

you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, carefully applying your favorite shade of red lipstick. the soft swish of the brush against your lips was almost like a ritual, and you couldn’t help but smile as you thought of quinn, who was probably still absorbed in whatever book he was reading.

sure enough, as you peeked into the living room, there he was. quinn sat comfortably on the couch, legs stretched out, a book resting in his hands. his brows furrowed slightly in concentration, completely engrossed in the story. he didn’t even notice you watching him, which only made you more determined to grab his attention.

grinning mischievously, you padded over to him, heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. quinn glanced up briefly as you approached, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “hey,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small smile. “you look nice.”

“just nice?” you teased, leaning down to pluck the book from his hands. you glanced at the title briefly before setting it on the coffee table.

“i take it back. you look stunning,” he corrected, his eyes scanning your outfit appreciatively. “are you all ready for your night out?”

“almost,” you said with a playful lilt in your voice. “but i thought i’d stop by and spend a little time with my favorite person before i go.”

quinn tilted his head, curious but amused. “oh yeah? and what exactly does that mean?”

you didn’t answer with words. instead, you leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, leaving a perfect red lipstick mark behind. quinn blinked in surprise, his hand instinctively brushing the spot.

he let out a laugh, “really?”

“oh, you know i love it,” you teased, planting another kiss on his cheek. the deep red lipstick left another trace, a perfect match for your playful smile.

quinn’s expression softened, and before he could say anything, you kissed the tip of his nose, your lips leaving a bold print there too. “you’re so cute when you’re all messy like this,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his cheek once more.

he laughed, a soft blush spreading across his face, though you could see he was clearly enjoying the attention. “you’re impossible.”

“i know,” you said, kissing his chin, feeling the faint stubble beneath your lips. “but you’re too cute not to tease.”

he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “i’m going to look like a painting by the time you’re done with me.”

“well, i’d say you look like art already,” you teased, brushing your lips over his jawline and finally planting a soft kiss on his lips. “but this one’s my favorite.”

quinn smiled, his lips lingering on yours for a moment longer than expected. then he pulled back, his hands resting on your hips as he gazed at you with affection. “you’re really doing this before a night out, huh?”

“i’m not finished,” you said, stepping back with a mischievous grin. “i have a whole face to cover.”

“you’re really going to leave me like this?” he asked, gesturing to his face.

“of course,” you said with a proud smile. “i think it suits you.”

he groaned, leaning back against the couch dramatically. “at least tell me i get a break before you start on my other cheek.”

“maybe,” you said with a giggle, “but the night’s still young. i’ll have plenty of time to make you my canvas.”

quinn chuckled, clearly charmed by your playful spirit. “i’m a lucky guy.”

“i know you are,” you said with a wink, finally giving him one last kiss before heading toward the door. ���but you’ll have to wait for more kisses until later.”

as you grabbed your coat and headed toward the door, you turned back to him, eyes sparkling. “and when i come back, you’ll be the first person i kiss.”

quinn smiled warmly. “i’ll be here, waiting. maybe i’ll even leave some space for more lipstick.”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss before stepping out the door, the sound of his chuckle following you down the hall.

© amourquinn

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

[adieutristana]

hi, i do! i’ve just yet to receive any requests for vi by herself, but i’d be happy to write this :) thank you for the request!

summary; quiet mornings with vi and her girlfriend.

characters included; vi

tags/warnings; fluff, casual dom vi, butch wife material or whatever they say, domesticity, maaaaybe a bit suggestive?

men and minors dni.

you’re awoken to the smell of breakfast cooking.

the spot next to you is empty, an indent on the mattress from where vi once laid. the light shines through open blinds and you reflexively bring an arm up to cover your eyes. groaning, you turn away from the window to look at the bedside clock: 8:41 am.

you wished vi was still with you, it would’ve been nice to wake up in her arms like usual… oh, well. breakfast is nice too.

you swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to rub the sleep from your eyes, slowly making your way to the kitchen. you’re greeted by the sight of vi’s back turned to you, white sports bra and black sweats. she’s clearly too absorbed to have noticed you, intently working on whatever she’s making.

you approach her slowly, a bit cautiously as to not startle her while she’s over a hot stove, but slowly snake your arms around her waist, pressing your cheek into her shoulder. vi lets out a little ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment, but doesn’t turn around.

“up already, babe?”

she remarks, right hand busy with a frying pan.

“yeah. couldn’t sleep without you there.”

“sorry, sorry. wanted to do something nice for you.”

you hum in acknowledgment, pressing further into vi’s back and grazing one hand over toned abs.

“what are you making?”

“surprise.”

she remarks. vi knows just how much you hate surprises, not knowing things. although you know you could very easily look over vi’s shoulder and see for yourself, that could ruin half of the fun. you simply hold vi from behind her, relishing in the warmth that her body offered you. it was always so peaceful, getting to hold her, to be close to her like this. this morning, it seemed as if time stood still.

vi could be moving throughout the kitchen, you’d seen her do it several times while cooking, but she was also considerate. you knew that she’d never want to ruin your fun. dating vi meant that if she had to give little things up, she would. wether that meant her not moving an inch when you slept for hours on her lap, or staying still while cooking because your arms were around her, vi was sweet.

sweet in a way that not many people got to see.

and yet, you found yourself excited at the prospect of eating breakfast she had prepared because her cooking was always so damn good. not many people would think it, but with vi leading a group of ragtag teens and tweens- as well as being an older sister, she’d learned to cook quite young. she frequently cooked for herself, used whatever scraping the kitchen to throw together something edible.

she hadn’t put too much effort into making her meals nice since the incident on the bridge, until she met you. now she feels as if she has a point to prove. or maybe it’s just that she loves you.

“almost done, cupcake. you just sit down and be patient, okay?”

she says, voice laced with affection. you nod slowly, pouting the slightest bit behind her as you let go of her. but you sit down at her dining table, elbows propped as you observe her. it’s almost effortless the way that she moves. it’s admirable.

vi walks over to you, holding out a plate of simple blueberry pancakes. she knew you had a taste for sweet things. she sits down opposite you after you take the plate, a soft smile playing at her lips.

“are you gonna eat anything?”

you ask before you even pick up your fork. you don’t want to be selfish, not with vi especially.

“i already ate. woke up early today, fixed myself something, and figured you’d be up later.”

she says, pointing to your fork. cueing you to start eating. you do, picking up a knife as well to cut the stack into slices. after covering it in sweet syrup, you take a bite and immediately close your eyes in contentment. this is good.

“you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

“of course i did. i’m your girlfriend, remember?”

you sigh, continuing to eat. swallowing the last of what’s in your mouth before you speak to her again.

“but i’ve never done something like this before.”

you sigh, looking off to the side. you hear a low chuckle from your girlfriend.

“trust me, hun, you do plenty for me in other departments.”

this elicits a slight flush rising to your face, deciding to just focus on eating the rest of your pancakes. as you finish the last of the sliced bits, you look up to see vi wearing that same soft smile she wears whenever she’s genuinely admiring you. it’s adorable, one of your favorite looks your girlfriend gives you. one you’ve become accustomed to.

vi stands up to take your plate from you, but not before you tug on one of the straps of her sports bra to bring you to her level. moving your lips slowly against her own, free hand resting on the small of your back. she gives a light giggle as she presses back into you, toned arms slowly wrapping around your neck.

“i’ll do the laundry today, since you cooked.”

you say, face still mere millimeters from vi’s. she smiles softly before shaking her head.

“nope. you’re relaxing today.”

“but-”

“no.”

“you cooked for-”

vi shakes her head again, brushing your jawline with her lips.

“i cooked because i want you to take it easy, and i like doing things for you. now, you’re gonna take your pretty self to the couch, or bed, and relax. and i’ll do the work today. alright?”

you groan in slight annoyance, but sigh. you know there’s no winning when vi gets in these moods. she only wants to see you taken care of, and she’ll be damned if that isn’t what happens.

count on vi to always put the needs of others before her own. she’d gotten better at taking care of herself during your relationship, but the way she put your wants and needs before her own never wavered. if anything, it got stronger with time.

“alright. but i’ll still do things tomorrow.”

“you can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

she hums, sitting down on the chair you were previously using. her arms are still draped around your neck, pulling you to sit on her lap. the second you make contact with her thighs, her lips are on yours again.

it’s breathless, a bit more rushed than the delicate kiss you had shared a few moments prior. but it’s perfect, it’s vi. the way her scarred lips move against yours is always so skillful yet so sweet.

“i love you, okay? i just want you to unwind sometimes.”

you nod slowly, pressing your forehead to your girlfriend’s and closing your eyes.

“i love you too, babe. just feel a bit… bad, not doing anything in return.”

“i don’t want anything in return,” she whispers. “this-” she points between the two of you, “is more than enough.”

[taelophone]

Bitter ʚɞ ⸝⸝⟡⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆TWs: Liquor . Jealousy . Annoying/Disrespectful friends . ｡⋆A/N: A lil palate cleanser before I gear up to write the most filthy creation to hit my table <3

You made a conscious effort every day to be the best version of yourself, biting your tongue, minimizing conflict, and stepping into your bigger shoes whenever you felt yourself nearing slipping off the chain.

But it was hard when your boyfriend was so highly regarded— attractive in all his right and kind enough to keep men and women orbiting him in silent lovelorn. It was hard to stay calm and collected when it seemed like every other day there was a new woman begging for a slice of his confectionery attention.

Luigi, however, was none the wiser. Every new face with a warm smile pulled a fresh coat of hospitality, his arms stretched wide with welcome to every face that seemed to spark interest.

There’s nothing wrong with being friendly, really. But there’s only a certain amount of flirty comments and forced physical interaction you can witness before the bitter citrus burns your parotids.

Like now.

You had dragged your homebody boyfriend out for the day, claiming a need for oxygen and socialization in the form of what was supposed to be an intimate little get-together between you and a couple of your friends. What you hadn’t expected was for friends to bring other friends.

Not that you were mad! After all, the more the merrier. What started as a small house chill became a quiet gathering for drinks and charcuterie, courtesy of Helena’s last-minute catering cancellation. 

The issue began to bubble to the surface when one girl, in particular, began to take a sudden interest in your boyfriend. At first, you dismissed it, recognizing that your boyfriend was a rather interesting individual.

So instead of fussing and pouting, you chose to remove yourself from the situation before it boiled over. Your faith lay in Luigi, trusting him enough to know he would never shatter that faith.

But it still stung.

The blaring buzz of bitter envy sounded through your ears like a bunch of barmy bees. The light tap of her backhand on Luigi’s shoulder, her eyes sharp on the man in front, fixated on the goal of love.

“No! Oh my gosh, no! That’s not true, you’re literally so strong. Like, I can see your muscles,” she gasped, pinching the side of his bicep with feigned disapproval woven in her flattery.

The first crack in your resolve. Porcelain, but far from perfect.

“Haha, yeah, uh—? Sorry, I think I lost my girlfriend..?” He said, frantically whirling his head around the kitchen in search of your familiar silhouette. 

“Aw, you ditching me? Runnin’ off to your ball n’ chain?” She mused, paired with a chuckle that seemed way too enthusiastic to be anything less than what she thought was the truth.

“Ha…haha, no. I just really miss my girlfriend” he chuckled. Breathy and uncomfortable, a clear warning sign of nearing his limit. “But it was nice talking to you!”

“Of course! Find me later, I’ll give you my number. I’d love to talk more” she offered with a pat on his broad shoulder.

And with that, he fought back a mildly confused arch of his brow before traversing through the sea of people in pursuit of you. What a strange experience…at least she’s friendly.

He shimmied his way through the hallway, taking a brief moment to admire the little intricate archway connecting the kitchen and the living room. It was a warm Tuscan brown, perfectly made with a nice round arch—nice.

He found you a couple of feet away from the kitchen, arms crossed in defiance with a hefty glass of some white wine you had been swirling around in its brandy balloon. A warm smile engulfed his features as he sat down next to you, one that was quick to fade when he felt the icy cold aura that radiated from your stone face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, pinching his brows together with innocent confusion.

You sighed, a puppeteered smile creeping up on your face; one that failed to meet your eyes with venomous twinkles. 

“Nothing. Totally fine,” you huffed, rolling your eyes as far as they could go in such a short amount of time.

“No, c’mon, don’t do that…” he said, a flicker of desperation and annoyance crossing his features.

“Go talk to Mindy, maybe she’ll help you understand what’s wrong” you blurted, sharp and pointed with intent to harm.

He sighed, putting down his little can of beer on the coffee table. An elbow came to rest on his knee, propping up his head by his chin as he stared at you.

He was never really the type of man who liked beating around the bush and much less when people around him did it, but he was making an effort for you. With open ears and a heart full of affection, he tutted his disapproval but tugged you closer to him by your shoulders.

“Oh, my jealous baby…” he cooed, a cocky grin forming on his face as he sweet-talked you into cavities. “So worked up…did I make you jealous? I’m sorry, my love.”

“Stop that…” you huffed, leaning away from his touch with crossed arms.

“You poor thing must’ve been so lonely without your terrible wretched boyfriend,” he teased, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you into his lap to pepper gentle kisses to your head.

“I’m…” Kiss! “So…” smooch! “Evil!” Smack! “How will you ever forgive me?”

“Luigi, stop!” You breathed out in between quiet giggles, pink bubbly bashfulness bubbling under your cheeks as he garnered the many sympathetic and supportive eyes of people around you. “You’re making a scene!”

“I’m not afraid to show my wife I love her” he fired back with a wet and almost grotesque kiss to your neck that would have sent the average child into a spiral of gags and barfs.

“Okay, okay, enough!” You laughed, pushing his wandering lips away from your neck and jaw. “I forgive you!”

“Good. ‘Cuz you’re the only one I have eyes for here. Sorry I made you feel jealous, I didn’t know how to shake her off me” he smiled.

And the night carried on with the clinking of wine glasses, sports banter piloted by 5 ex-frat boys with lopsided caps, kisses and smooches from the lovebirds, and occasional grumbles from a very grumpy, stood-up Mindy.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood. 

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all. 

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything. 

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in  Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on  asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway. 

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying. 

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear. 

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still. 

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent. 

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was. 

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it. 

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him. 

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?” 

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen. 

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2025]

[xxmooxmooxx]

irritable. ~ s.r. x fem reader.

MDNI 18+ ONLY

- told from spencer’s pov

prompt: Spencer accidentally sees y/n secret nsfw twt account and is struggling dealing with working along side her now.

warnings: angry Spence, nsfwtwt, mentions of sex, sex toys, perv! Spencer if you squint your eyes, age gap, lmk if im missing anything :)

a/n: BLURB! not a v long story. my first Spencer fic AND my first time writing smut. NOW reader and Spencer don’t hookup in this but it’s talked about quite a bit so proceed with caution loves. gimme feed back pls!!!! Lmk if you’d want a pt 2!!!

“i can't fucking do this, y/n. We have a lot of work left to do on this case.” I say getting out of my seat and walking towards the office door. It’s just too much right now. We’ve gotten nowhere close to finding this god awful unsub. Then here is y/n smelling like cocoanut and vanilla. Looking at me… no searching my eyes for answers I don’t have. And her hair? God. It’s down. Unlike most days where she wears it pulled back.

“Spencer! What the fuck? You told me if i needed to confied or talk to someone to go to you? If thats no longer okay then just tell me. You don’t have to talk to me like this.” She says getting out of their chair and stepping in my path to the door.

Shes right. I am being a complete an total ass right now. It’s not her fault. When she started last year I did tell her to come to me and she has taken me up on that offer lots of times and I've never minded it. I don't mind it. At Least I didn’t before… I look down defeated and sigh before looking at her. “You’re right. I apologize. Please, excuse me.” I take a step to the door.

“Reid…” She grabbed my arm looking up at me. “Please. What’s going on?”

I jerked off and came multiple times to your secret twitter account, y/n. I have your body engraved into my brain. I know exactly what i’d have to do, where to touch, how to touch, where to lick and suck now from watching the videos of you playing with yourself. I cant look at you let alone work with you, without wanting to take you into an empty office and showing you all the many things about your perfect fucking body I have learned and memorize. God even now during this stressful case all I can think of is fucking you so hard over this table that you cant remember what you came in here to ask for in the first place. But I can’t say that.

“I’m… fine. Okay? Many daily things in our lives especially in this field can cause irritability, for example: we’ve been on this case for 48 hours, we’ve gotten nowhere close to a profile, no idea how to stop this unsub, exactly how many victims he has so far, which means there's gonna be more innocent people dying. So, if I'm irritable that may be the reason. Now if you excuse me i need to go look the files we found on Amy Cassandra and Olivia Hidmen.” And with that, she let me go and I made my way out.

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

After a long week we are finally back home. I avoided y/n as much as I could which is the only way to deal with this until I can figure out how to move on. Then of course… once we get home going out to “split” the teams favorite local bar was suggested. We all agreed to meet up in an hour, giving ourselves time to go home and get ready.

I was sitting at our usual table with Derek and Emily when y/n walked in talking with Hotch. Fuck. me. She was wearing a short, silk, black dress that was hugging her body perfectly. Her hair was down framing her face perfectly and she was wearing her glasses. Last time i saw her glasses, they were on her bed side table in the background of the video she posted, showing off her new toys a sex toy company sent her. My thoughts are interrupted by her looking at me. I can't. I turn to Emily and Derek asking to be excused before walking past y/n and out the bars glass doors.

She’s your coworker, spencer. Not only is she a coworker, shes damn near 10 years younger than you, sees you as a mentor, and trusts you. What the fuck have I done.

“Reid!” i hear yelled from behind me.

No no no no… I turn to see her jogging towards me.

“y/n please go back inside.”

“No.”

“y/n…”

“Spencer, please stop.”

“No. y/n. You. please stop. Leave me alone and go back inside with the others…” I turn to walk away. After a few paces I hear:

“I saw.”

I pause in my tracks. Looking down at my feet. I’m fucked. I take a deep breath before turning and walking back to her. “You saw what?” I say looking down at her. My voice coming out deeper than intended.

“You liking and unliking one of my post on twitter.” She says softly and almost unsure.

I dont break eye contact. I’m frozen. What am i suppose to say to that?

“Spencer, please don’t tell anyone. I’m-”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t planning on talking to anyone about this.”

“Oh… okay…” A few more moments of silence. “I’m really really fucking sorry you saw that, no one i know in person was ever meant to see it. I just do it for fun and…”

‘I cant be having this conversation right now.’ i think to myself as she continues to ramble. “y/n. Stop.”

“... i know youre probably mortified…” she continues.

“Stop.”

“... I just dont wanna lose you-”

“y/n!’ I say louder than intended as i grab her shoulders trying to get her to listen to me. Shes staring wide eyed at me, silent. I losen my grip and lead her to a near by empty stairwell. I let her go and brush her hair off her shoulders and try to straighten the straps of her dress that was underneath my hands.

“Now…” i start calmly. I see her relax more and start looking at me with curiosity. “y/n, you have no reason to be apologoizing to me. You-” i stop myself to think before i let more rambling come out of my mouth. “I should be the one apologizing to you.” I say taking a step back attempting to give her some space.

“For what?” She asked genuinely.

“For invading your privacy. I saw your account and I was intrigued then after a few moments of analizing i realized it was you. I shouldve clicked away immediately but I didn’t, I kept scrolling and looking and I’m so sorry, y/n. You’re an amazing person, agent, and friend and I’m someone you trusted and i-”

“Did you like them?” she asked bluntly looking up at me.

Spencer. Stop. you cannot entertain this.

“Yes.” I answered searching her eyes for any signs of regret or disgust.

None to be found.

She takes a step closer to me making our hight difference extremely noticeable. “Spencer,” she started softly. The sound of my name on her lips going straight to my cock. “Did you touch yourself to me?”

“I did.”

She searches my face almost the same way i did hers moments ago before she yanks me into her by my tie our lips meeting and her pulling away before I could even register what happened. I look at her as if asking if she's sure she wants this before we quickly grab each other crashing our lips together again. Our bodies moving together and our mouths hungry.

“Fuck, I need you closer.” I moan into our kiss before softly pushing her against the wall of the stairwell. My hands roaming her body until they find their way to her beautiful thighs. I yank one of her legs up by her knee taking the opportunity to get my body closer to her. I can feel her hot core against my aching cock. My hands now resting on her ass and I leave kisses along her neck.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you to touch me like this for so long, Spencer.” She moans softly into my hair.

“Is that so?” I ask, looking up at her as I slowly drop down to my knees.

“Oh my god.” She whispers as she realizes my intentions for getting down here.

‘She’s definitely gonna believe in a god when i'm done with her.’ I think to myself as I start leaving kisses along her thighs.

“Y/n??”

We jump at Penelope’s voice we hear from around the corner. FUCK.

I immediately get back up and look at her attempting to straighten her dress and hair up. “We’re just having a conversation. Okay?” I whisper to her searching her eyes trying to keep her calm

“Okay.” She whispers back.

I nod as I take a seat on the steps crossing my arms over my knees in an attempt to hide my boner from Penelope.

“Oh my god! There you two are!” Penelope said relieved once she saw us. “Is everything okay with my two favorite nerds?”

“Yeah, just kinda debriefing the past week. It was a lot for me.” Y/n spoke up.

“Awwww okay pumpkin. If you need to take time to yourself it’s okay, everyone would understand.” She said as she pulled y/n into a hug.

“Yeah that’s probably what i'm gonna do. I need to decompress.” Y/n says in response, hugging our friend back.

“Okay baby cakes.” Garcia responded by pulling away. “What about you, my handsome wonder boy? You okay?”

“Yeah i'm good. Just got a bit overwhelmed. I’ll probably head home as well.” I say in response looking up at her from my seat on the stairs.

“Okay then my loves. I’ll go let them know.” She says as she starts to back up. “Reid, be a gentleman and make sure our sweet y/n gets home safe.” She turns and sends a winks to y/n before turning and making her way back to the bar.

“You um… maybe wanna come over and talk about everything?” I ask looking back to the beautiful woman I had in my arms moments ago.

“I would like that.”

[nislost]

yapper | chapter 8

(written + smau)

hearing a soft knock on your door you check to see who it is first and see jeno fidgeting with the books in his hands nervously. you open the door and greet him “hi come in! sorry if you felt forced to come here” you give him an apologetic face. jeno immediately shakes his head “don’t apologize! this will honestly let us have better one on one time!”

you giggle and point towards your soft pink couch “you can sit and get comfortable, i’m gonna go get us drinks and snacks” you say quickly before heading to the kitchen and then coming back. “okay let’s start!” you plop down next to him your bare thigh slightly touching his clothed one.

an hour and a half passes and you’re bored. “jeno do you wanna do something fun instead” you say out of the blue and look towards him. jeno blushes “i-i thought you said after you’d pass a math test we’d do that…” his eyes are wide “i didn’t prepare anything…sorry” he looks at you with round eyes apologetically before looking at you confused hearing you giggle.

“omg i cant. jeno i didn’t mean anything like that!” you giggle causing jeno to become flustered and cover his face in embarrassment. “this is so embarrassing…” his muffled voice comes through his hands. you lean over and pull his hands away from his face ��unless you want to do something similar to that” you say in a low voice. jeno stares at you surprised by your words “um i-i’m not sure” he stutters looking away from you “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do” you giggle.

“sorry i don’t think im ready right now” he looks down at his lap in shame as he plays with the strings of his sweats. “don’t apologize!” you smile at him softly and grab his chin to look at you. his eyes widen at the sincerity in your voice. “baby i’m not gonna make you do anything you want” you giggle getting up from your spot to stretch.

“but we really need to take a break my ass hurts from sitting down for so long” you whine. jeno clears his throat still embarrassed from earlier “u-um are you hungry?” he asks pulling his phone out to search up any restaurants near your place. “you know what i kinda am” you turn to look at him “there’s this really good street taco place i know” you suggest.

jeno looks up at you and smiles “do you wanna go i’ll pay” he asks getting up. you giggle at his excitement “i’d never say no to free food” you say before heading to your room to put at least a jacket on. you come out excited “okay let’s go!”

notes: me when the motivation is hitting me rn

previous / next

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[electricneonvalkyrie]

Abby notices when you’re depressed. Let’s talk about how she handles that as your partner.

These are modern Abby headcanons. The list was much longer, but I cut it down considerably to keep it from getting too long-winded. I do have a piece written for WLF Abby. If it's something you want to see, let me know.

Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're here.

• Maybe it’s a slow descent this time… little by little, losing interest in your favourite pastimes and finding it hard to discover meaning in daily life. In the midst of trying to survive, there is suddenly no room left for indulging in your hobbies.

Abby, with every random blanket and sheet she owns, constructs a blanket fort in the living room, offering a pressure-free zone where you can do nothing but feel completely safe and loved.

Super cozy, not too busy, and mega peaceful against the demands of a world that is asking far too much of you in this moment.

Does she deep-dive Youtube tutorials on how to build epic forts that probably belong in a magazine? I mean, yeah. Give her a break, alright? Complete dedication is the way this girl operates, and I’ll die on that hill. Also, Abby is a tall, sturdy girlie, and she needs to fit inside it with you. If you’re going to live in this fort together for the foreseeable future, she needs it to be good for you.

Now, if you want an enormous blanket hanging precariously off the side of the couch with a half-dead flashlight and crinkled comics shoved underneath some pillows, date Ellie. Still cute, still the thought that counts, but she’s no Abigail it’s my mission to save you Anderson.

• Abby stocks up on all your go-to snacks because she gets that it's hard to think about the basics when you're too bone-tired to move… nevermind prioritizing measly things like providing yourself sustenance. She’s got you covered.

• She refuses to let you marinate in the feeling of being a burden. She shuts that shit down fast.

“You’re my person, okay? I’m not going anywhere. End of story.”

• Abby grew up around doctors, so she'll for sure be the one to look up therapists and leave the info pinned to the fridge beneath a small magnet that is, of course, a laminated photo of the two of you on your first date. She describes it as the most important day of her life and brings it up regularly.

“You know, I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, but every time I look at it, it hits me all over again—how much that day meant to me.” Her voice dips low as she confesses something so immensely sacred to her. “The day I realized you weren’t just someone I wanted in my life. I’d been waiting for you without even knowing it. I thought I had it all figured out before you. Fuck, was I ever wrong.”

(Just know there's no rush to decide anything big when it comes to choosing a method of healing, but it's there when you're ready.)

• On your hardest days, she stays close, but she doesn’t push. She’ll busy herself with repairs around the home or folding the mountain of laundry shoved up against the wall in your bedroom.

• Abby loves to buy those cute nightlights with little animals on them or the ones that change colours, and she scatters them around the house. When you’re lost in the darkness, right?

• She serves you warm drinks in your favourite mug and nothing else. She’ll handwash it a million times a day if she must.

• Abby's phone chirps with little alarms throughout the day, reminding her to do something special for you. This is all the time, not just when you’re depressed, to be certain.

• Weighted blankets everywhere. Vehicles included.

• I don’t care what anyone says, Abby is soft as a motherfucker, okay? Is she rough around the edges? Maybe. Yes. 100%. Fine, she’s a hot mess, but will she read you poetry aloud, until her voice is hoarse, and her lips go dry? Without a doubt. There are sticks and jars of lip ointment all over the place wherever Abby resides.

Fun fact: Abby hates when her lips feel dry, even slightly. She is constantly reaching for ChapStick and all its cousins. Whenever someone tells her she should stop using her precious lip stuff because it will improve the sensory nightmare in the long run, she’ll immediately do that pouty, nose crinkle thing at them and ignore the advice without a breath.

• Abby lets you wear all her sweaters. That’s a given. But when you’re depressed, she tends to reach for yours as well. It helps her feel close to you when she’s dealing with her own inner turmoil.

• She doesn’t fuck around when she senses you’re starting to spiral. Her routines are extremely important to her, but she will put them on pause to be there for you.

Now, does she gently, lovingly, force your ass to go on walks with her to get some fresh air somewhere you feel comfortable? Yeah, she does. This might be annoying at times when you’re really struggling, and she knows it. She’ll still encourage movement in a way that is manageable for you if leaving the house is too daunting.

If that means you’re standing on her feet, arms wrapped around her neck while she sways side to side with you, so be it.

• She'll binge-watch your favorite shows and movies with you until she drains all the power in the entire city.

• Abby won't make you feel awkward if you cry. She'll just start crying, too, even if she tries so hard not to. She gets better at keeping it to a little glossy eyed moment, but sometimes your pain is her pain, and the dam just… breaks.

• Abby is an actions over words type of human. She’s a doer. Also, timing doesn’t matter much to her. She is desperate to give you a future to believe in because she is so certain that what the two of you share is everlasting.

Abby proposes to you when your hair is a mess, and you’ve been in the same pajamas for days. Fuzzy teeth? Fear not. She isn’t afraid of the hard times. Her love is an anchor. A constant.

She wants to remind you that you’ll never have to face your dark times alone.

Shadows dance on the tapestry walls of the blanket fort, illuminated by the warm, flickering lights hanging inside. Across from you, Abby lounges with her legs stretched out and her back propped against a pile of soft pillows. She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with something in her hands.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle and husky, like gravel smoothed by unrelenting water. “When I was little, I used to make forts like this with my dad. We’d sit in the middle of all the chaos and just… talk about random shit. Nothing outside could touch us.”

As she glances at you, there is a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.

“That’s what this feels like—being with you. Even when everything else seems like it’s falling apart, you’re my safe place.”

Abby leans forward, her knees brushing yours, and you realize she’s holding a small velvet box. Her confidence wavers, revealing a hint of vulnerability you rarely see.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. About us—what we mean to each other.” Her voice cracks a little, causing her to pause and clear her throat before she continues.

“I know you’ve been feeling lost. And I know I can’t fix it, even when it kills me—even when all I want to do is make the hurting go away. But I can promise you this...”

She opens the box, the ring glimmering in the soft light, her affectionate, earnest gaze meeting yours.

"I promise you'll always have someone by your side to help you through it. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll be right here with you. For the tough days, the good ones, everything the world throws at us. Because you’re it for me. You always have been."

With each word, her voice grows softer, filled with an unmistakable tremor of emotion.

“Let me be your person forever. Let me love you, fight for you. Let me build you giant blanket forts until we’re way too fucking old to do it by ourselves—and then let me find new ways to take care of you. Because it’s all I want in this lifetime. You’re all I see. Will you marry me?”

[yanderedollie]

he’s the only one i could call

“fuck.” i groaned, leaning my head back against the headrest.

i lightly slammed my hands down on the steering wheel and lowered my music.

my car had broken down a few cities over from my own.

i picked up my phone to check the time.

3am… of course it is. nobody i know is gonna be up right now to save me.

“this is what i get for neglecting the check battery light” i think to myself. my car stalled a few more pathetic attempts to start as i realized i didn’t have the money for a tow service right now either.

i glanced around and picked up my phone to check maps. maybe there’s a 24 hour diner, or somewhere i can stay till it’s a reasonable hour.

nothing. i wanna throw my phone after i check how far i actually am from my apartment.

as i try one last attempt to move around the map and find a savior my heart drops to my stomach, and leaps back into my throat once i realize just exactly where i am.

two neighborhoods over is his house.

i giggle to myself as an idea flashes in my mind.

before i continue i’ll give context.

the whole reason i’m even cities over from my own was because i took a drive to clear my head. to try and forget him.

i had been trying everything i could but he was always gnawing at my brain. always. and i had been trying to control my obsessive tendencies after our fall out.

i had been doing good but, stuck in a neighborhood so close to his house made my body ache.

my fingertips tingled in anticipation as they hovered over my phone screen.

i wondered if he was even awake. he never really had a great sleep schedule. i checked the time again… 3:05.. i hope he’s not with her.

i nibbled at the inside of my cheek before i threw all reason out the window…

it rang a few times before a familiar, sleepy voice, answered

“[name]?”

my breath caught in my throat before i answered

“hey… hey i’m sorry i know it’s late- were you sleeping?”

“yeah but it’s fine.. are you okay? why are you calling?”

i smiled to myself. he still cares.

“i’m fine! i’m okay! swear. it’s just my car broke down really close to you. everyone i know is asleep…”

i trailed off. i probably sounded so desperate. it dripped off of me.

“[name].. i’m with my girlfriend.. cant- cant you call a tow service?”

i bit the inside of my cheek again. hard. i don’t care about his girlfriend. i’ll kill her.

i shook my head and nervously played with a loose thread at the end of my dress

“i.. uh.. dont have that kind of money right now.”

i sound genuinely pathetic

“i see… uh.. okay um i can come help you. just send me your location… and [name]?”

“hm?”

i practically whined at the idea of him coming to rescue me

“i’m just going to jump start your car and leave okay? please don’t make this a.. a thing”

that stung. i swallowed hard and nodded like he could see me

“yeah. it- it wont be.”

my phone beeped indicating he ended the call. i squirmed in my seat as i sent him a pin of my location.

make it a thing? what the fuck?

i wanted to rip out his throat.

shifting uncomfortably i waited outside in the cold. i leaned up against the drivers side window, shivering and pathetic.

when his cars headlights pulled onto the street i was on i felt my heartbeat quicken and my body tingle.

i was starving.

“hey..”

he said, walking up to my car with cables in his hand

“hi…i’m sorry again about this.”

i smiled softly at him. he always liked when i smiled at him that way… i hoped he felt something. anything.

he smiled back and i swear i could see his eyes linger over my body for a little too long

i felt like pouncing on him like a predator catching its prey.

“no worries. i told my girlfriend i’d be quick so, lets do this”

i felt rage flicker in my gut. stop fucking talking about her.

“right..”

i clearly sounded upset but i didn’t care.

my bones ached as i watched him attempt to jump start my car. he looked as gorgeous as ever.

it started pretty much instantly and i panicked. he couldn’t leave yet. no, no, no, not yet.

“w-wait!”

i practically yelled at him

he stopped abruptly, clearly taken aback by my sudden outburst

“what?!”

he was visibly concerned. never mad. he never really could get mad at me.

i felt tears well up in my eyes

“don’t leave…please.. i’m-i’m sorry. it’s been so long since i've seen you. i had to see you. i can’t stop thinking about you. please please don’t go…”

i felt so many emotions bubble inside of me, i felt like i was going to burst

he stared at me for a long time… then.. he smiled.

“cute.”

i swallowed and looked down at my feet

“stop. i’m sorry. that was really stupid.”

i didn’t look up but i heard him take a step towards me

“[name]….”

i looked up. he was right in front of me, closer to me than he had been in months.

i clenched my jaw. i could smell his cologne and my knees nearly buckled.

“stop it!”

i stepped back. i wanted him so bad but i knew it was wrong. i wanted to kill his girlfriend and rip out his throat, but i was trying so hard to be better. i was really trying

he let out a soft laugh and reached for my hand

“i guess i’m the one making it a thing…”

he held my hand in his so gently i felt myself melt.

“no. we can’t…”

i sounded small, pathetic, desperate. i clearly didn’t mean a word.

“hmm”

he hummed gently, moving his hand up to brush some loose hair behind my shoulder and trace my neck

“why not?”

i didn’t answer, i just held his gaze. it was so intense i nearly looked away.

i knew i could eventually get him where i wanted him…but.. i didn’t think it'd be this easy.

i shivered at his touch and something flickered in his eyes

“you look as beautiful as ever. i like this dress on you..”

he sounded starving now.

“it’s new”

i squeaked.

“mm very pretty, doll”

i let a whimper escape my lips at the nickname and he grinned

“come here.. let me warm you. it’s so cold out here…”

i stepped closer to him without a second thought. anything he wanted i would do it. anything at all.

he wrapped his arms around me and i couldn’t contain myself anymore.

i tangled my fingers into his hair and pressed my body against his, whimpering in the process.

i needed him bad. primal. animalistic

his hands roamed my body, grabbing and groping every part of me.

my breathing quickened as i melted into his touch.

“please..please”

was all i could manage to moan out.

he was barely touching me but i felt my pussy throb and dampen at every grab and tug from his hands

“you’re so pathetic. it’s adorable”

he cooed into my ear before nibbling it a little

we were still outside leaning against my car, his hand travelling up my dress and teasing the waist band of my panties

“[name]… please..”

i couldn’t control myself around him. he was so warm. so sweet. so perfect.

all of a sudden he pulled away tugging my body towards his car. fast.

i barely had time to register what was going on before i was in the backseat and he was looming over me.

i could see glimpses of him in the moonlight. he looked so disgustingly perverted and hungry for me. i fucking loved it.

“you’re such a fucking tease in this little dress. begging me to come save you, to rescue your pathetic ass…”

he said in breathy whispers as he groped my tits and pinched my nipples through the fabric of my dress

i moaned loudly and squirmed underneath him, feeling his hard cock pressed against my thigh

“i can’t believe you [name]. i can’t believe what you do to me”

he quickly slipped the dress off of me and his mouth was on my naked body in an instant. digging his nails into my waist and leaving sloppy, uncoordinated kisses, over my chest and stomach

“mmm… fuck… [name]… please just use me however you want”

i whimpered pathetically each time he moved his mouth or hands

“oh i will.”

i could barely stay conscious between his hands wrapped around my throat and him rubbing his thick cock against the fabric of my panties

it all felt so good i nearly came just from that alone

he ripped my panties off and shoved his cock into my dripping pussy with one swift motion, i saw stars

i coughed and sputtered from the pressure on my neck as he rammed into my cunt

“oh my god.. fuck.. [name] you feel incredible”

he released his grip on my neck to move a hand down to my aching pussy

he gently rubbed my clit as he pumped in and out of me and i could’ve sworn i saw god.

i whined like a pathetic dog as he violated me in ways i had never experienced from him before.

i knew our past sex was good but holy shit

“[name].. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry”

he apologized profusely as he struck me across the face and rammed into me harder

“you’re just so pathetic, i can’t help myself…”

all i could get out was pathetic whines as i looked up at him with desperation.

i wanted more. i wanted everything he could give me. whatever he wanted to do i would take it and i would love it.

“fuck. fuck. fuck. [name] you’re so tight”

he groaned loudly as he rubbed my clit faster

i clenched around his cock as i felt him release a huge load of hot cum inside my womb

i came at the same time, my pussy spasming on his cock as we both let out animalistic groans and pants, clinging to each other like this would be the last time

it was never the last time.

“oh my god..”

was all he could manage into my ear as he collapsed on top of me

i could feel our heartbeats colliding into one, pounding against both of our chests

i laid there staring up at interior of his car, catching my breath

i had asked him to come rescue me in hopes that maybe he’d feel something for me when he saw me

i asked him to save me because i needed to see him

come to find out…. he felt the exact same way

i smiled to myself as he played with my hair, still laying on top of me and softly breathing into my neck

we hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet but, i knew.

i knew he felt the same way i did

all this time i thought he had moved on

but we were just as desperate and perverted for each other as we had been back then

i really need to kill his stupid girlfriend. then he’ll be mine forever.

so much for “getting better”

i never will as long as he’s breathing. i never wanted to in the first place.

“i love you [name]”

he sighed softly, placing a gentle kiss on my neck

“i love you too”

i will never let my darling go… ever. again.

[rubywillkins]

Franco colapinto| Caffeine

Pairing franco female reader

Warning smut, pinv, love at first sight

The café was cozy and bustling, tucked away in the corner of a charming little street in Monaco. Franco Colapinto, a celebrated Formula 1 driver, had stumbled upon it during his winter break. For once, the roar of engines and blinding flashes of cameras were replaced by the soft clinking of cups and murmured conversations. He was used to adrenaline, speed, and applause, but something about this quiet escape felt… grounding.

That was when he saw her.

Behind the counter stood a girl with chestnut brown hair tied in a messy bun, a pen tucked behind her ear, and a smile that seemed to light up the room. Her name tag read Y/N. She was graceful, quick on her feet, and laughed in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

Franco didn’t believe in love at first sight, but in that moment, he felt something shift within him.

The next day, he returned. And the day after that. For someone who thrived on risk and competition, his heart pounded nervously every time he ordered his coffee.

“Double espresso again?” Sophia asked with a teasing smile after his third visit.

“Yeah, you could say I’m a creature of habit,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“You must be new around here,” she said, leaning slightly over the counter. “I’d remember someone with an accent like that.”

“I’m here for a break,” he said, keeping his answer vague. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to know who he was just yet. For once, he wanted someone to see franco, not the celebrity.

Y/N, a college student juggling her studies and her part-time job, didn’t press further. She liked that he was polite, funny, and surprisingly down-to-earth.

Days turned into weeks. Franco made the café his second home. He learned that Y/N was studying literature, that she loved old movies, and that she had a habit of doodling little flowers on napkins when the café was slow. He also learned that she had a sharp wit and wasn’t easily impressed.

One evening, as the café was winding down, Franco finally gathered the courage to ask her out.

“Y/N,” he began, leaning against the counter, “would you let me take you out for dinner? I promise it’ll be fun.”

Her smile faltered. “Franco, you’re sweet, but… I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I have school, work, and… I just don’t think I can do this.”

Her rejection stung, but Franco wasn’t one to give up easily.

Determined, he stepped up his efforts. He brought her flowers with little notes about how her smile brightened his day. He started helping clean up the café when things were busy, insisting that he just “needed the exercise.” He even began learning about her favorite books and quoting lines to make her laugh.

Slowly but surely, Y/n began to lower her guard. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, the way he listened when she spoke, and how he didn’t try to rush her into anything.

One cold evening, as they closed up the café together, she sighed and looked at him.

“Franco… maybe I was wrong,” she admitted softly. “You’re… different. I’d like to give this a try.”

That night, they went for a late dinner, talking and laughing as if they’d known each other forever.

When franco walked her home, the tension between them was undeniable.

“Y/N,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “you’re incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.”

She leaned into him, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, tender, and electrifying all at once.

When they stepped into her apartment, the world outside ceased to exist. Their connection deepened as they explored one another’s vulnerabilities, their kisses turning urgent, their touches leaving no part of each other unexplored.

Franco slowly slid his one hand inside her undie, while roughly kissing her. His one hand was drawing circles on her clit while his other hand was kneading her breast. His mouth was doing wonders on her chest.

You were truly a moaning mess then. Both of your hands were playing with his hair.

He slowly removes his hand from your clitoris and puts his finger inside you.. he starts moving his fingers. First, it was one finger and then two. Then three.. he went from slow to fast... when you were about to cum he started to kiss you.. on the lips... lower lips.. he slowly moves to your clit again making you groan. From kissing he went to roughly suck your clit while pinching both of your breasts.

You were on cloud 9. You cum all over again and he cleans you with his mouth.. "just put it in franco.. I just can't..." " Be patient baby girl... I am gonna make you feel good". He inserts himself into her... and starts to pound into you.. the to and fro motion was so good.. first it was missionary... you both were staring into each other's eyes... then he just flipped you with his one hand and started to take you from behind.. honestly you were shocked by his strength but it was hot.

He flipped you again this time it was lotus and then another position then another...

Franco’s hands were strong yet gentle, and Y/n responded with a passion she hadn’t realized she was capable of. That night, they let themselves be vulnerable, their bodies speaking in a language words couldn’t capture.

As they lay tangled in each other’s arms afterward, Franco pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re worth every effort, Y/n. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/n smiled, resting her head on his chest. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe, seen, and cherished.

Little did they know, their love story was just beginning.

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 11

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,438 of 29,558

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AO3 Link

Frottica has no friendly faces to offer us, only howling wind and bitter cold. If the air was thin in Wittica it's threads of ice this far up in the mountain range. It's good and I like it that way. As each arctic gust blows my black peacoat open and stabs me with a chilled knife, I feel the tether of reality to my situation.

I moved back into the sleeping cabin after we left Wittica, and to the Wizard's respectable credit, he hadn't brought up how I had shut down after the meeting with Morrible. Madame Morrible, actually. They were so familiar that when I asked him if we would see her again at Rouncible, he gave me a queer look as if I had addressed her by some childish nickname. She was a woman of great accomplishments and Headmistress of Shiz University. It would be a great faux pas if I were to ever address her as anything other than Madame Morrible.

The possibility of accidentally insulting someone else once we get to the safe house has been eating at me since that moment. All of this, the war and secrecy, was so foreign and new. What I had experienced back in the Emerald City between the Wizard and Ambassador Humak was shallow compared to the depths of the political web of Oz that we were now swimming in, groping for any sort of lifeline.

Once in the train station, we make our way up to the counter and the Wizard asks for any correspondence for and Oscar Diggs or Engine 1701.

"Mail's running late," the concierge says, "but there is a letter that came yesterday for Engine 1701." He fishes out a mint green envelope from one of the back cubbies and gives it to the Wizard.

"It's for you," the Wizard says, almost astonished. He hands me the envelope, and I can see that it’s from Bruno back in the Emerald City.

"How?" I ask, smoothing my thumb over my name, trying to see if the ink is real. "The city is under siege."

"He must've snuck it out," the Wizard says. "Come on, let's get some lunch."

We walk to the diner, and I glide my finger underneath the seal, trying not to tear the delicate paper. I’d have to find a safe place to put it once we got back on the train. "This means he's alive," I say as we sit down.

"It means that he was alive when he sent it," the Wizard corrects. "I haven't gotten news of death tolls yet... Hopefully, we'll get some today. I'm sure they're still... counting bodies.

I pull the letter from the envelope. The top right corner of the paper was addressed two days prior.

"We made it through the night," I recite. "Prince Fiyero has escaped, and we're still looking for the Grimmerie, but we have rid the palace of any Winkies. The ambassador probably stashed it somewhere in the palace thinking he'd be able to come back and get it.

"I checked on Fileah this morning. She's alright. A little shaken, but alright. I'm making sure that the kids there have enough food and heat. That place is like an ice box. It isn't right. Kids with no coats and the fires are nothing but coals. Fileah wanted to know where you were. I tried to explain it to her without talking about the ongoing investigation, but I don’t think it made much sense. She asked when she could see you again. I told her that it would hopefully be soon.

"We haven't gotten a good count of the dead yet, but it's good you got out when you did. A few bystanders were killed in the attack. The Gale Force is looking into identifying them so their families can be informed, but they've been stretched thin with spy efforts lately.

"It's a huge risk putting all of this into a letter, but I'm doing my best to get it smuggled out of here and away from enemy hands. I've got a friend in one of the amnesty medic units, but even that is not guaranteed safe. Don’t expect further correspondence from me.

"Tell the Wizard that we're working around the clock to find ways to break through the roadblocks and get the city restored. We'll succeed or die trying.

"-Bruno."

We sit in silence together, letting the verbal ghost of Bruno linger. The Wizard stares at the letter, tapping his index finger against the table.

"That's it?" he asks.

I flip the letter over; nothing is on the back. "That's it," I reply.

He drags his hand over the lower half of his face, leaning back into the booth. "They haven't even counted the dead yet," he says to no one in particular.

Those words linger over the meal as we half-heartedly eat our bacon sandwiches and drink watery burnt coffee. Every bite feels like a herculean effort, knowing that my own sister is being kept in a freezer and that Bruno alone is seeing to her being fed while also fighting a siege. If I was ever going to see her again, I would have to find a way to slip away from the Wizard, before we got on that train to Rouncible.

We head back to the concierge to find that mail has arrived with two envelopes for Oscar Diggs in care of Engine 1701. If I pretend I have a question to ask the conductor once we get back to the train, I think, then I can get away and have time to hide.

"Anything good?" I ask him. I have to act normal.

"Death tolls," he says quietly, eyes glued to the one paper. We slip away from the counter where people might hear us and onto a wooden bench meant for passengers heading back to Wittica. This far up into the Pertha hills, there are hardly any trains that continue north. There were a few smaller villages up north and the hunting lodges for the particularly wealthy, but they were so few and far between that the board for departures going north only showed one time of departure for seven o'clock this evening.

"How bad?" I ask, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. He turns from the paper, briefly glancing to where I have touched him, and then looks me in the eye.

"Hundred of the palace guards. Half the Emerald Guard. Some party guests," he says.

I squeeze his arm, trying to let him know that everything will be okay. "We can come back from it. There's always the backup of Gillikin."

He doesn't say anything to that, simply moving on to the next letter. This one is from Governor Thropp. Good news that makes me breathe a sigh of relief. A favor repaid was exactly what the Wizard needed. He tears the letter open and as he reads it his face darkens into a grave expression.

"Thropp isn't coming," he says.

There are no good words to say to that. It's impossible. I know nothing of the man, but everything of the Wizard. You did not refuse the Wizard of Oz. Whatever power he had, he had earned the name Oz the Great and Terrible. He was the Wonderful Wizard of Oz and all of the benevolence that came with the title. Maybe he didn't get everything he wanted, but it would be unthinkable to refuse him. To be in direct rebellion would be a sign of wickedness of the heart.

The Wizard gets up from the wooden bench and walks silently toward the exit for the train platform. I follow after him, my pathetic boots clicking on the tile floor to match his long strides.

"Morrible said she was going to talk to the Lord-Mayor," I offer, trying to bring some ray of shining hope back into the situation.

He doesn't respond to that.

"A thousand guards is more than enough to replace what we lost," I offer. We are back to the train car and he turns on me.

"I don't want to hear it!" he snaps, startling me. "I am good as dead without Thropp's help. I have no way of forcing him to help if all of my troops are locked in an Emerald Box. Do you get that? Everything…. Everything that I have built for the past fifty years is about to be rocks. It’s going to be rubble. Just..." He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, hands held up to silence. "I need time to think. I- I need to be alone."

I can feel my bottom lip trembling as he steps into the passenger car and shuts the door behind him. This is what I wanted, right? To be left unsupervised so that I could slip off? There are a few strangers milling about the train station – bums, really, with the holes in their clothes and shoes worn fabric-thin – but I need to be alone. I need privacy. My hand reaches for the passenger car handle but shies away from it. The train station seems like exactly the wrong place, so I hop down onto the tracks, hoping to find some engine heading back to Wittica. As I step around engine 1701,  I peer into the cab, hoping that the conductor has stepped away for a bit.

Unfortunately, when I get to the doorway, I can see a man in a sooty gray uniform – probably a railway worker – sweeping coal dust out from the cab floor of the engine. I try to slip away without notice but he calls out to me.

"Oy! Miss! You can't be running around the tracks!" he shouts. "You're going to get run over."

"I'm sorry," I say, feeling my cheeks burn as if I were a child scolded. Near the engine component, the smell of smoke and ash is unavoidable. It makes it impossible to think about anything else besides wanting to hold your nose. There is a creeping fear that if you breathe too deeply you'll die hacking up a lung.

"Well then get off alright?" he says. "I'm pulling this engine out in ten minutes and I don't want anything gumming up the works."

I hurry back around the train, wishing that I could punch him for ruining my plans. I have ten minutes to disappear before the Wizard comes out to get me.

Once back up on the platform, I walk down it quickly enough to put some distance between me and the train. I need to be careful not to walk too fast so that anyone looking might make note of me and report which direction I went to the Wizard if he came looking. Frottica is almost identical to Settica and I smile for a moment thinking how funny it is that the two towns form drab slices of bread for the colorful sandwich of Wittica. There are some plain-looking shops just ahead: a tailor, a bakery, a bank. Those will be the first places he looks. I make a right turn down the cobblestone street, pulling my coat tighter around me from the biting wind. Wherever I'm going, I need to get there soon, before I get frostbite.

I scan the shops, trying to swallow the fresh memory of the Wizard tearing into me. It really was my fault for setting him off like that. Why couldn't I have just kept my big mouth shut? It was so obvious that things had gone from bad to worse with the lack of support from Munchkinland. A thousand guards would not be anywhere near enough if his estimates of a 5000-strong Winkie host were true. Optimism only got you so far, and even I knew that. Why else would I be running away to save my sister by myself? Whatever magic he holds would do no good if she ended up dead.

I turn the corner, thanking the Unnamed God that I am finally doing what's right. If I had stayed on that train I might as well have signed her death certificate. I would need to come back here and find the railway worker someday to thank him. If he hadn't told me that the train was pulling out in ten minutes-

I stop, trying to put two and two together. Maybe it had been the awful choking smoke or the biting cold, but the man who was in the cab of the engine looked nothing like the barrel-chested and balding man from the boiler room.

I grab my head, trying to focus. I need to keep going, to get out of here before someone comes looking for me. And yet, here I am worrying about some stupid train conductor… or was he a railway worker? My feet refuse to budge any further down the cobblestone street.

Something is wrong. I don't know how long I've been gone, but if I can warn him, maybe he'll listen. If something really is wrong he can fix it and I’ll find another way to get away while he’s fixing it. My hand grips the ten dollars in my pocket as I race back to the train. It's a promise: a promise that after this, it'll be the last time I see him.

I'm wheezing when I get back to the platform, the thin and icy air stabbing my lungs with its crystalline fingers, but I can't help smiling. The train is still there. I made it in time. Ten yards away from the platform, the train blows its whistle and slowly the smile drops from my face. My legs are still running, but I know I won't be able to get off if I get on. Smoke has already started to billow up from the stack.

The thought about optimism from earlier occurs to me. He wasn't guaranteed to save my sister, only I could do that. But if there was something wrong with the train conductor, who would warn him? Who was there to save him?

The wheels creak forward and I push my legs harder and faster into the ground, diverting my course toward the moving train. I reach the door and heave it open to find the Wizard standing there. He pulls me in and shuts the door.

"I felt the train start moving and I- I didn't realize we were leaving so soon." His eyes roam over me, taking in my wind-reddened face and the way I'm gasping for air. "I'm sorry that I said that stuff earlier. It's just that-"

"Something's wrong," I cut him off, wheezing. "The train... Something's wrong."

[lillytalons]

ADOLIN & MAYA

Apparently I have a ton to say about Adolin and Maya from Wind and Truth.

Spoilers Ahead!! 

Maya getting the deadeyes is like the greatest payoff of finding out about them existing all over Shadesmar and specifically the lost deadeyes on the bottom of the ocean who I had assumed had to have the eternal tragedy of being ‘dead’ and lost forever. The spren coming back to more real life with the reversal of the broken oath to Ba Ado Mishram is just so great. I should remember, there’s pretty much always payoff with Sanderson, even if it takes a while. 

Also the suit up moment had me jumping and celebrating it was just so beyond good. 

Honestly, Adolin potentially living forever without his leg is a cool concept, like the shardplates adjusting for him showing that past radiants didn’t have all their limbs was great but not it also sets Adolin apart again because so many of the radiants would be able to heal themselves, not all obviously but most. I’m excited to explore it in the future.

He got his plate through inheritance and who knows exactly which dead spren it’s made of, but I’d like to think fate was involved. The Plate starting to respond to him like Maya originally did was just beyond amazing. We haven’t seen a lot of differences in living plate yet since we have a small sample size, but so far we know that wind spren can move to others at a drop, and creation spren seem to have a lot more flexibility with form (though that could just be because Shallan thought to ask for it), but the chances that his plates are from the pair with cultivation spren isn’t great. Honestly with the movement and permission, so far I’d say wind Spren but maybe we’ll get that answer eventually. 

Maya being a soldier is just incredible, like she doesn’t seem to remember or mention healing or anything, but she knows war, and is the perfect match for Adolin. Having someone to talk to about everything and someone who really understands the kind of sacrifices he needs to make without a fight has got to be a major benefit for both of them. Most of the Spren now are learning everything from scratch, are very young comparatively, and have to slowly grow memories and the like. But Maya, while silent and relearning how to talk and interact, doesn’t have to be taught about complex ideas. Which is good since she’s basically thrown from talking again to one of the most important battlefields in Roshar’s history. There wasn’t time for ethics/people lessons like Syl and Kaladin had time for. 

Maya is so interesting because we mostly know new spren who have never been bonded and it seems like spren have been staying away from learning about fighting as a whole, their own cultures’ way to avoid the atrocities of the radiants. But the deadeyes have a lot of possible wisdom and such to offer, now that they can talk again. Plus, depending on how old Maya is, she could have been bonded to several soldiers, killed during recreances and bonded to a new one, if she was a solider she would have bonded again, so she understands death. As one of the shards found in an obvious place and protected and passed down, she could have been hooked to important radiants that were in the middle of the fighting. 

And I’m sure there are plenty of cultivation spren like Wyndle that don’t like fighting, wouldn’t have bonded to radiants if at all possible. So spren like Maya would have picked up the slack to keep fighting.

Not to mention, well no one really has stormlight right now, but the potential lessons the unoathed could teach to new and current radiants are huge! Yes the radiants are figuring out a lot and in some ways benefit from not actually having an instruction manual to limit their thinking, but gentle nudges if they’re missing important and useful ways to use lashings will be helpful. Until the heralds come back, or they find more records in Urithiru, the un-oathed are all they have (especially with the Stormfather and his habit of giving visions gone. Lucky Dalinar wrote it down before dying I guess)

Back to the discussion of fate, Adolin’s sword being a cultivation spren just makes sense. He’s barely connected to Honor and Odium, not bowing to the passions and disliking oaths more and more (Dalinar could have learned a bit from him), which means if he’s connected to any of the three shards, it’s Cultivation. And he does have the history of slowly but doggedly cultivating friendships, relationships, building people’s skills, heck even talking to his blade before every battle is much more a cultivation trait than anything else. Despite some of his impulsivity, he’s got an awful lot of patience that most of the characters don’t.

The potential powers for edgedancers are healing and friction. He almost was using friction during many of his fights, especially during his last fight, leaning into the movement of his peg and basically using moments of friction and movement like edgedancers do. He has a history of perfect footwork and movement in his duels. Even leaping and moving across the dome in an insane show of momentum proves my point. 

Then with the healing, he has more respect and understanding of both normal healers and mind healing than most. Beyond that, he’s a good tactician and all, but more and more he hates fighting, doesn’t even really want the duels, he feels very Eowyn coded, can and will fight to the end, but wants to be a healer and focus on growing things (maybe metaphorically). He heals Yawagawn emotionally by seeing he needed a friend and again building him and his skills up.

He remembers those that have been forgotten, whether a lonely boy emperor, a bridgeboy or a young girl who wants to fight, he treated his blade and plate as sentient years before it was even considered that they could be, before anyone knew anything about them, he was ensuring that they wouldn’t be lost forever, which also ties into listening to those who have been ignored. He wants people to be able to make their own decisions and not be beholden to others, whether through class lines or oaths, and it’s so good. He follows the soul of edgedancers and radiants without being beholden to oaths and Honor because he’s seen a lot of things can go wrong with that. And he was right! Beyond never abandoning Maya (which I loved him for) he’s now really free of the issue of Retribution.

And he helped save the only human kingdom to stay free of Odium! He’s just the best.

[rweoutofthewoods]

Hi Mere I don't want to imply anything but I'm worried that your new relationship stopped helping you be creative and put out updates. Is your fiance not letting you write? I'm concerned about you.

Look, i appreciate your concern and I’m sure you have good intentions but let me set you straight.

I met my fiancé through writing. we used to write together every single night. They’ve been nothing but my biggest fan, my biggest supporter, the person I can turn to for honest and kind feedback. When I was writing Youngblood and I wrote a chapter I absolutely HATED it was them who encouraged me to rework it into something I was proud of and who didn’t let me give up and just hate myself for it.

And when I said I wanted to stop writing for a while let me tell you there was a big silence and they gave me a look of horror and asked if I was okay because YEAH, it’s very unlike me.

But first I want to say, that just because you guys have known about my relationship for a little while doesn’t mean that’s as long as it’s existed. I was happily in this relationship when I was pumping out 3 chaps a week, and I’m happily in it now that I’m posting 0.

The honest truth is I’m burnt the fuck out. I don’t want to write because I have zero interest in it right now. It doesn’t make me happy, I’m not motivated or burning to do it like I used to be. I wrote nonstop through my last two years of college, through graduating, through working a terrible food service job post grad, living in constant dread of what came next. I’m just burnt out. I’ve been pumping out jegulus nonstop since 2022, ofc I was going to lose steam and move away from it eventually.

Im just busy and tired! I’m moving in a few months, I have a full time job now, I go to work at 8am and come home at 5 or 6 and I don’t want to write. I want to spend time with my family or my friends or my fiancé. In December I worked for 17 days straight without a day off, I needed a break! And when I want comfort and happiness I don’t have to turn to writing to find it.

I’m mentally at the best I have been in a very long time, and I don’t need to write like someone has a gun to my head to cope anymore. I had a very unhealthy and obsessive relationship with writing. And I always joked when people asked how I wrote so much that it was mental illness. But it wasn’t really a joke, I was unwell and coping with fanfic. So while I’m sure some of you may be sad to see my writing slow, I hope you’re happy for me because it’s a good thing!! I want to heal my relationship with writing and I want it to be something I simply do for fun, not something to fill some hole inside of me.

So while I’m sure you mean well, I just want to remind you guys that you see a very small piece of my life and my relationship. So I’d appreciate not making assumptions 🩷

[morningsharksworld]

How does Hazard feel about sharks? As a marine science major, and shark lover, I always wondered that. Heck, it’s in your name! Morning shark! What kinda shark would he like? 🤔💭🦈

A/N: ANON I WILL SMOOCH YOU, IVE BEEN WAITING ALL MY LIFE FOR THIS (I’m using some of my shark knowledge on this so please do let me know if I get anything wrong)

Hazard and Sharks

- Initial Reaction to Your Love for Sharks

When you first mention your love for sharks, Hazard gives you a cheeky grin. "Sharks, aye? Could’ve gone fer somethin’ soft an’ fluffy, but nah, ye pick the sleek, deadly ones. Proper choice, I’ll give ye that." He’s not entirely sure why you’re so obsessed, but he’s entertained by your excitement.

- Listening to Your Rambling

Hazard secretly loves when you ramble about sharks, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. He’ll sit back, arms folded, and listen with an amused smirk. "Aye, go on, tell me aboot this ‘cookie-cutter’ shark again. Sounds like somethin’ out o’ a horror flick. Perfect fer ye, eh?" He might tease you, but you know he’s hanging on every word.

- His Secret Admiration for Sharks

As time goes on, he starts to get genuinely interested. He researches sharks on his own, just so he can impress you. "Did ye ken thon basking shark’s the second biggest fish in the sea? And it’s got nae teeth fer biting—just filters its food. No bad fer a gentle giant, eh?" He tries to play it cool, but he loves the way you light up when he gets it right.

Of course, he still loves teasing you. "So, if I paint myself grey an’ start swimmin’ in circles, d’ye reckon I’d be yer favorite shark? Or is the goblin shark still beatin’ me out?" He calls you "Shark bait" when you start rambling too much, but you know he finds it endearing.

- Hazard’s Favorite Shark

One day, while you’re talking about sharks, Hazard interrupts with a surprisingly genuine statement: "Ye ken what? I reckon the goblin shark’s my favorite. Look at that ugly bastard—looks like it crawled out o’ the deep tae scare folk silly. I like its style." He loves how weird and intimidating it is, and he insists it suits his vibe. "We’d make a good team, me an’ a goblin shark. Both mysterious, both deadly, aye?"

- His True Feelings About Sharks

Hazard eventually admits he respects sharks a lot. "Folk think they’re just teeth an’ terror, but they’re clever bastards. They know what they need an’ go after it. None o’ this faffin’ aboot—just straight tae the point. S’how I try tae live, tae be honest." He sees a lot of himself in them, which only deepens his appreciation.

Hazard finds your love for sharks endlessly fascinating because it shows how much you care about strength, survival, and beauty in the unexpected. "Ye see somethin’ in them that most folk miss. That’s what makes ye special, ye know? Ye’ve got a way o’ finding the good in things folk reckon are just trouble." He admires that about you, and it makes him want to see the world the way you do.

EXTRA:

- He now owns a BLÅHAJ named Duke Spike the third (it is his first plush, he named him the third to sound fancy) who he now sleeps with peacefully and comfortably…but he’s not telling anyone that :].

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Snow Day! - Kate is Alive AU part 3!

Part 2:

“So Riley, this is Margret. She works at the Kensdale Library with me.” Kate explained. 

“Nice to meet you…” Margret replied, “I see that you’re the one who put me in this difficult position!”  

“I’m… sorry?”

“Since Kate is supposed to be dead and now you’re missing, I had to explain why there was a dead body in Kate’s office to the police!” Margret explained, “Well… at least I managed to turn it in our favor.” she sighed, rubbing her temples. 

“YOU TOLD THE POLICE TO WATCH THE TAPES!” Kate shouted. Riley looks at Margret with panic and confusion. 

“Hold it. You’ve got it all wrong. I pinned the crime on Hameln in order to get the police to look into them more deeply.” 

“What did you say?” Riley asks. 

“I simply explained that I knew Joanne and a number of others were looking into a cult that had been involved in the kidnappings of multiple children. I said that the cult had been making anyone who was looking into them ‘disappear’.” “There’s no way they believed all that.” Kate sighed. 

“Oh they seemed to totally buy it actually.” Margret nodded, “Because I made sure to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound completely insane.” she said in a way that felt like a personal jab at Kate. “I showed them all the evidence I had on hand of the kidnappings. I showed them the letters from the parents whose kids watched the show. I explained that the cult had created the cartoon in order to brainwash children and make them easier to trick and lure away from home, as well as teaching dangerous lessons to make kids turn against their parents and go into unsafe places. I told them if they didn’t believe me they should watch the tapes themselves. They asked me if I had more evidence, and I said I’d be able to gather all of it for them and give it to them. We’re meeting again to discuss it on Saturday.” 

“We’re giving them ALL OF IT?!” 

“Kate, calm down. This is why we made copies of everything, remember?” 

“That’s actually really smart.” Riley marveled. 

“You can thank Peter for that.” Margret winked.

“So you need me to gather a copy of everything before then?” 

“Remember which of us has a job Kate?” Margret says, raising an eyebrow, “It shouldn’t take long, considering I organized it all.” 

“Organized she says…” Kate sighs, rolling her eyes. Margret furrows her brow. 

“It would be if you put things back where they belong!”

“Ugh fine…” 

“Um… so I guess I’ll watch the next tape by myself then?” 

“No, I'll watch it with you.” Margret says, flopping down next to Riley. Kate looks appalled. Now that Margret was right next to them, Riley noticed the bags under her eyes. “Oh PLEASE I deserve a break don’t I? After I saved your behind again?” Kate sighed and rolled her eyes.  

“Well alright. Margret, this is Riley, my brother’s child.” Kate explained, “And they found out something interesting…” 

“What’s that?” Margret questioned. 

“When I watched the tape with them, they brought out an interesting side of Amanda and Wooly that we haven’t seen before… and we learned some interesting things from it.” 

“Oooh. Interesting. How’d you do it?” Margret asked, getting way too close to Riley’s face. 

“I didn’t do anything too crazy, I just answered incorrectly on purpose sometimes to see what they’d do.” 

“Oh I see, the exact thing Kate told me NOT to do unless strictly necessary.” “Look, we needed to gain Rebecca’s trust, so actively upsetting her didn’t seem wise.” 

“But Amanda says she trusts me.” 

“By some miracle.” Kate sighed before leaving the room. Margret looked over Riley’s shoulder at the tape they had. “Snow Day hm? I don’t think I’ve seen this one yet.” She takes it from Riley and places it into the VCR. “Let’s see what you got!” she laughed. The tape starts with Amanda and Wooly looking out a window. 

“Wow… it’s really coming down out there…” Wooly mumbles.

“You know what that means…” Amanda says excitedly. She looks at the screen and grins. “Hi there, I’m Amanda!” 

“Oh! And I’m Wooly!” Wooly smiles. Amanda keeps looking at the screen.

“Oh, it's you!” She gasps. “Hey we should play tag next time, okay?” The voice prompt appears.

“Sounds like a plan, a man… da!!” Amanda gives Margret a weird look. “Yeah I don’t know what that joke was supposed to be…”

“Do me a favor and never tell a joke again.” Amanda scoffs, “Anyway… today we’re having a snow day!” she cheers, jumping up and down. Wooly does not look so excited. “Oh! But before we go outside-” 

“Do we have to go outside?” Wooly groans. “It’s going to be so cold!” Amanda gives him an annoyed look. The tape glitches a bit. 

“That’s why we’ll need our snow gear!” Amanda beams. Three blue plastic bins appear. Each one has a different picture on it. The first has a picture of a snowflake. The correct answer. Riley observed. The second has a picture of a rain cloud. Why would your rain gear be in the attic? Riley wondered. The third has a picture of building blocks. Now those aren’t even clothes! “I pulled out these three bins from the attic! Can you tell me which one holds the winter clothes?” Amanda asks. Riley taps their finger on the TV screen at the rain cloud.

“No silly, that’s for rainy days!” Amanda smiles, “Try again!”  

“That wasn’t too weird…” Margret mumbles. Riley taps the bin with the building blocks on it. 

“Ugh… why did I even bother bringing this bin down?” Amanda grumbles, “try again.” Riley taps on the building blocks again. “Obviously that is not the answer!” Now only the snowflake box remains. Riley taps it. “That’s right! Now let’s get our snow gear o-” the tape freezes. Margret and Riley wait, but the TV stays frozen. 

“This TV is such a piece of junk. It does this all the time… all the TV needs is a good WHACK!” Margret says, smacking the tv. The tape unfreezes, Amanda and Wooly hold their heads in pain. 

“Ow!” Wooly shouts. 

“What was that for?” Amanda whines. The tape glitches. “Let’s get our snow gear on!” Amanda says. The tape fades in and out and now Amanda is dressed in her snow gear, wearing a puffy coat, gloves, snow pants, a warm hat, a scarf, and big winter boots. 

“Amanda… wears my snow-stuff?” 

“Not here.”

“Huh? Then where is it?”

“It’s not my job to keep track of your stuff Wooly.”  

“But I put my snow stuff in the box!”

“This is a bin.” 

“Then where’s the box with the snowflake on it?!” 

“Didn’t we throw all the boxes out recently?” Amanda asks. Wooly’s face goes blank. 

“Oh…” “Oh well.” Amanda shrugs.

“Guess I’m not going outside…” Wooly sighs. Amanda looks at Wooly and then at the bin.  

“Well my old winter stuff is here… I guess I’ll allow you to use it. Just this once…” she sighs, “Hold on…” Amanda gets up and leaves the screen for a couple seconds while Wooly puts on her old hat and gloves. Amanda returns with some old beat-up winter boots. 

“Amanda, I think this glove has a hole in it.” 

“Yeah Wooly, that’s why those are my old gloves.” 

“Why do you still have these? I’ve never seen you wear them…” 

“I don’t even know how they ended up here to be honest…” Amanda sighs sadly. She hangs her head low in silence for a couple of seconds. “Amanda… by any chance… Do you have a coat I could borrow?” 

“Do you really need a coat? I mean, you got all that wool, don’t you?” Amanda asks. 

“I mean…” 

“Ugh… fine.” She sighs, she takes off her scarf and wraps it around Wooly. “There, happy?”

“Amanda, this is not a coat…” 

“Well I’m not a genie Wooly. Deal with it.” Amanda suddenly claps her hands together, causing Wooly to flinch. “With that settled, let's go outside!” Amanda cheers. The tape glitches to Amanda and Wooly in a snowy backyard. It is still snowing. 

“Hey look Amanda, I can catch snowflakes on my tongue!” Wooly says, though it is a bit hard to understand him with his tongue out catching snowflakes. 

“What are you five?” Amanda scoffs. Wooly looks sad. “There are lots of things we can do on a snow day! My favorite thing to do is… is…” Amanda bends down and starts gathering snow into a ball then she turns around and chucks it at Wooly. “Snowball fight!”

“Oh I’m gonna get you for that!” Wooly bends over and makes an even bigger snowball that he chucks at Amanda. Amanda smoothly moves out of the way. 

“Miss me! Miss me!” she taunts, bending down to gather a new snowball.

“I won't miss again!” Wooly chuckles. Amanda glances behind her to see what Wooly’s up to and gets a snowball right in the face. She turns around and reveals her arms are full of snowballs. “Oh dear.” Amanda manages to hit him with half of them. 

“Grrrrr…” Wooly bends over and starts making another snowball. Amanda gasps and runs behind the picnic table, which she tips over to make a shield. Wooly looks up. “HEY THAT’S NOT FAIR!” Amanda hits him in the face with another snowball. “You're cheating!” Amanda turns to us and giggles. 

“I’m going to hide behind here and make snowballs and you can throw them at Wooly for me okay?” Amanda whispers. 

“Ooooh fun.” Margret grins, cracking her knuckles. Every time Amanda holds out a snowball, Margret would tap the screen directly at Wooly’s face. Then she noticed a glitch where she could just keep tapping the screen and Amanda wouldn’t even need to hand her a snowball.

“Uh…” Amanda looks confused and a little bothered by this.  

“What are you doing?!” Riley hissed. 

“What? It’s fun!” Margret cackled. 

“Until he gets angry!” 

“Haha! Wooly doesn’t get angry!” 

“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Wooly screams, throwing his scarf on the ground. Amanda watches him head back towards the house. 

“Wha? That’s not right… you’re supposed to come over and get me in the face with a snowball remember? That’s how this always goes!” Amanda calls out, sounding really disappointed. Wooly ignores her and storms inside. “Ugh now look at what you did. Now I can’t have my snowball fight.” Amanda pouts, crossing her arms. Then she looks at the snowball next to her and chucks it at the screen. “What should I do now? Should I build a snowman, go sledding, or make a snow angel?” she asks us. The voice prompt appears.

“Snow angel!” Riley calls out. Amanda smiles and flops down in the snow waving her arms and legs to create an angel. She gets up to see what she made and frowns. 

“It doesn’t really look like an angel.” she grumbles. It looks like an angelic version of a certain cartoon mouse. Riley thinks. She kicks snow over it and turns back to the screen. “What should I do now?” she asks. The voice prompt appears.

“Talk to Wooly. Get him to come back outside.” Margret suggested. Amanda scowls. She elbows Riley playfully. Ooooh.

“Wrong. The options were to go sledding or build a snowman.” Amanda explains in an annoyed tone. “Try again.”

“Talk to Wooly.” both Riley and Margret said in somewhat unison. Amanda looks annoyed at the idea, but considers it.

“Mmmm… Fine!” she groans, “Wooly!” she calls out loudly. There is no response. “Oops guess he doesn’t wanna come back outside so we’ll pick something else!” Amanda shrugs. The voice prompt appears again. 

“Go inside and talk to him for real!” Margret taunted.

“Oh so you want me to clean up your mess.” Amanda groans, rolling her eyes and trudging back inside. She finds Wooly sitting on the couch sipping some hot cocoa. “Wooly!” she shouts. Wooly gets startled and starts choking on his cocoa. 

“UGH! Amanda?!” he gasps, sounding extremely irritated, he takes a deep breath and regains his composure, “You’re back quickly, was it too cold out there?” Amanda furrows her brow. He wears a smug smile. “No… it’s just… our friends kept asking me to bring you back outside.” Amanda grumbles. Wooly’s smile vanishes instantly. 

“What so they can shove five more snowballs down my throat? Hard pass.” 

“Forget it. I’ll build a snowman by myself!” Amanda grumbles. Wooly looks extremely bothered by this. 

“Fine, I'll come.” he mumbles, following Amanda outside. She rolls her eyes. Wooly digs his scarf out from under the snow and puts it on. 

“Are you stupid?” 

“What?” 

“That’s been sitting in the snow for-” Wooly tilts his head in confusion. “It will make you more cold!” Amanda exclaims. 

“Oh.” Wooly takes the scarf off and drops it in the snow once more. 

“Alright what were we doing again?” Amanda taps her chin in thought. 

“Building a snowman- OOF!” It seems the tapping the screen glitch is still in effect and Wooly had gotten hit in the face with a snowball once again with an amount of force that knocked him flat on the ground. Amanda glares at the screen. 

“Do you hate him or something?” Riley hissed. 

“Actually yeah.” Margret shrugged. Riley gives her a weird look. “I’m joking, I just really like to tease him sometimes. It’s funny and there’s never any consequences. Unlike with Amanda…” I’m not so sure about that. Riley thinks, remembering what happened to Joanne and shuddering. “That reminds me I have never seen the Amanda demon attack someone so violently before…” Margret said, tapping her chin. “That’s because it-” 

“So are you guys going to apologize to Wooly or?” Amanda scoffs, tapping her foot. Wooly’s face lights up with joy. The voice prompt appears. “I’m sorry Wooly it won’t happen again HA!” Margret taps the screen again, this time Amanda smacks the snowball to the ground. 

“No! Bad! Bad!” Amanda scolds, waving her finger, “I told you to stoppit!” What is she, a dog? Riley thinks. “I’m trying to have a snow day here and you’re messing it all up!” she screams. 

“Th-thanks for saving me…” Wooly says, twirling his fingers awkwardly. Amanda rolls her eyes. 

“I didn’t do that for you.” she groans, glaring directly at Margret. “Ugh. Let’s just build that snowman.” Amanda sighs, then her smiley demeanor returns. “To build a snowman how many snowballs do we need?” she asks. The voice prompt appears. 

“Two.” Riley answers. Amanda scowls. What did I do this time?

“No, that's not right.” she grumbles, shaking her head. 

“I thought it was…” Wooly mumbles. Me too Wooly, me too…

“Try again.” the voice prompt appears again. 

“Fifty-seven!” Margret beams. Amanda has a creepy, clearly annoyed smile on her face. “I’m really starting to like this whole, pushing Amanda and Wooly’s buttons game.” 

“I just answer some questions wrong sometimes to get a reaction, you’re just bullying them!” Riley protested.

“Whoops, did I go too far?”

“That’s an understatement.” Riley replied. Seriously… I don't want to get attacked again…

“How many snowballs do we need?” Amanda asks. The voice prompt appears yet again. 

“Three?”

“That's right!” Amanda beams. 

“Ugh but three is going to make this take forever! Can't we just do two?” Wooly complains.

“What happened to having a bit of patience Wooly?” Amanda says, winking at the screen. 

“I see what you did there.” Wooly sighs. Amanda looks quite proud of herself. “But seriously it's cold out here, let's just do two.”

“We're doing three!” Amanda insists.

“But Amanda-” 

“My d----” the tape glitches loudly, static covers the screen. “My da----” the tape glitches again. “My dad---” behind the static Riley hears Amanda let out a little screech of frustration. “And I always made our snowmen with three snowballs! Always! It has to be three! It has to be!” 

“Amanda… huh?” Amanda throws her coat in Wooly's face. 

“Wear this if you're so cold. I'm making my snowman!”

“Amanda! Put your coat back on, you'll get a cold!”

“I’d rather catch a cold then listen to you complain all day!” Amanda scoffs. Wooly looks offended by this.

“I- I'm fine Amanda I have my wool… I don't want you getting sick.” Amanda rolls her eyes and starts rolling a snowball. “Amanda put your coat back on!” Amanda ignores him. He walks over and puts her coat over her shoulders and starts helping her roll the ball. 

“Wooly… ugh whatever.” Amanda stops and puts her coat back on. If you start working on the second snowball, we'll get this done quicker.” 

“Ah, okay.” Wooly goes and starts forming another snowball. While he's doing this, he starts humming a little tune. Hey I recognize that song! I think I used to hear this on the radio… a long time ago… What was it called? Riley wonders.

“Wooly, what song is that?” Amanda asks.

“I… don't know…” Wooly mumbles, “I just know they used to play it on the radio ALL THE TIME. It was pretty annoying actually.” 

“I think I remember that… Do you remember any of the words?” Amanda asks.

“No…”

“Hum it again.”

“Um… okay…” Wooly starts to hum the melody again. 

“I think you're humming it off-key. Didn't it go…” Amanda starts humming along. 

“Yeah yeah! That's right… then it went…” Wooly starts humming a different part. 

“Yeah… but like… I think the notes were a bit higher?”

“Quit being such a critic!” Wooly pouts.

“Oh sorry, I’ve just never met someone so bad at humming before. How can you be bad at humming? It’s so easy!” 

“Is this snowball big enough?” Wooly asks flatly, glaring daggers at Amanda.

“Yeah I'd say so. I gotta finish the body and work on the head… you go get the rest of the stuff?”

“Rest of the stuff? What else do we need for a snowman?” Wooly asks. Riley taps on some sticks on the ground behind him. “Oh yeah, our snowman needs some arms! Help me pick some out!” Wooly runs over to the sticks. Does it matter? Riley wonders. They tap on a random stick. “No… that's too short. We're making a snowman not a T-Rex!” Riley taps a different stick. “Haha no. That's way too long!” Riley taps a different stick. Wooly picks it up. “I don't like the way this one feels.” WOOLY QUIT BEING SO PICKY!!! Riley thinks in annoyance. Margret picks a stick that is sticking up out of the ground. Wooly goes to pick it up, then realizes it's stuck in the ground. “Oh! It's a little sapling! A baby tree!” He giggles, “we can't use this little guy. Ah! Hold on!” Wooly disappears off-screen for a couple of seconds and comes back with his scarf. “Here… so we don't lose track of where it is!” 

“Wooly I'm done! Do you have the other stuff?” Amanda calls out offscreen.

“No!” Wooly calls back. 

“What's taking you so long?” Amanda asks, walking over. 

“Look Amanda, I found a baby tree.” 

“Oh… we'll have to dig it up.”

“What? Why?!”

“Look Wooly, it's too close to where our water pipes are underground-”

“Why do you know that?”

“Don't ask. The point is once its roots grow big it will make a big mess. We'll have to move it when the snow melts.” 

“No seriously why do you know about this-”

“Same thing happened at my house one time. There was a tree that grew too close to the piping system and my d--- had to get the tree removed and the pipes replaced. It was a massive pain in the butt.” Amanda explains. 

“I feel like this is getting really off-topic from the episode…” Wooly mumbles, looking unsure. 

“You asked.” Amanda shrugs, picking up the long stick and the short stick.

“Amanda those aren't the right sticks!” Wooly protests. 

“Right sticks? What are you talking about?” Amanda says, looking confused. The tape glitches and Amanda and Wooly are standing in front of three snowballs. “Alright, which snowball goes on the bottom?” Amanda asks. Riley taps the smallest one. “What? How do you even think that? Did you mishear me? I said on the bottom.” Amanda scolds, “Try again.” She's taking this really seriously… Riley thinks. Riley taps the biggest one. “That's right. Now which one goes on top of it?” She asks. Margret taps the medium snowball. “Right. And the smallest one goes on the very very top.” Amanda says. “Help me Wooly.” 

“Oh okay.” Wooly says. Amanda and Wooly take the medium snowball and place it on top of the biggest one. Then Amanda reaches up and puts the head on. The tape glitches and a smiling face is now on the snowman. 

“I think we outdid ourselves, Wooly.” Amanda says proudly. Wooly walks over and places two round snowballs on either side of the snowman's head.

“Look, now it's you.” He smiles. Amanda squints her eyes at the snowman. 

“Hmm…” the tape glitches and another snowman appears next to hers, with two snowballs instead of three. It bore a striking resemblance to Wooly. “Look! It looks just like you!”

“Okay I don't know if it looks just like me.” Wooly chuckles.

“It's round like you.” Amanda points out, poking Wooly's wool. “Oh wow that's soft…” she mumbles, still poking Wooly. 

“That tickles!” Wooly laughs. “Wait a minute- HEY!” Amanda runs off-screen giggling.

“Now where was that sled?” Suddenly, a bunch of random cartoon sound effects start to play. While that's happening, the opossum sneaks over.

“Hey! It's you! What are you-” the opossum kicks the two snowmen really hard and they come toppling down on top of Wooly. Amanda returns to find Wooly under a pile of snow.

“Wooly! What happen-” she notices the opossum scampering away. “That little-”

“I think we should kill him.” Wooly says, but it's muffled under all the snow. Amanda pulls him out. 

“That’s my line-” Amanda pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath, “No no it's fine…” she says through gritted teeth. “It's just snow after all…” 

“FINE?! HOW IS THIS-” 

“Now let's go sledding-ing-ing-ing-ing!” She beams, lifting up her sled. The tape glitches to them standing in front of three hills, Wooly appears to be shivering and huddling close to Amanda. “Can you tell me which one is the biggest?” Wooly looks at the biggest hill and gulps. 

“Or maybe a smaller hill…” he mumbles. Riley taps on the medium size hill. “Mmm… I don't know…” Wooly sounds unsure.

“Biggest hill! Biggest hill!” Amanda chants. 

“Actually I… I think our friend's pick will be fine.” Wooly laughs nervously. Margret taps on the biggest hill. “Nooo!”

“Yessssss! Let's gooo!” the tape glitches to the top of the hill. “Alrighty then! Front or back Wooly?”

“I mean…”

“Well if you go in front it'll probably be faster since you're-” Amanda compares their heights, “nevermind I'm taller.”

“Why did you count your hair in that?” 

“Okay fine we're the same height so it doesn't matter.” 

“I don't even want to do this.” Wooly whimpers. 

“Whatever I'm going in front.” Amanda says, sitting on the sled. She looks back at Wooly and taps the empty space behind her. He stares at her. She glares at him. “Okay I'm going. Have fun being alone up here next to those spooky old woods.” Amanda says. There indeed were some spooky-looking woods behind them. Wooly gulps.

“Wait! Wait! I'm coming!” Wooly sits down on the sled behind her. Amanda kicks the sled and makes it go down fast. Amanda is laughing her butt off the whole way down. “Amanda… what's that bump up ahead?” Wooly asks.

“Huh? Uh-oh.” There was a big log in the middle of the snow. The sled hit it and flung Amanda and Wooly into the air and back down face-first into the snow. “THAT WAS AWESOME LET'S DO IT AGAIN!” Amanda shouts excitedly. 

“I think I saw my life flash before my eyes… ACHOO!” 

“Oh come on Wooly it wasn’t THAT bad was it?” 

“I'm COLD.” Wooly snaps, before slipping on some ice and landing back into the snow. “UGH I HATE SNOW DAYS!” Amanda looks at the screen awkwardly. “I'm cold, I'm wet, and I WANT TO GO HOME!” Wooly shouts miserably.

“Well this is new…” Amanda mumbles. “C'mon Wooly, pull yourself together…” 

“I just wanna go home…”

“Okay okay… we're going home, we're going home! Pick yourself up… wow you are cold…” she says, helping Wooly off the ground. She unzips her coat and wraps it around him.

“I told you I don't need that.”

“Put it on.” Amanda says sternly. Wooly puts on the coat. Amanda immediately goes to zip it up. “Ugh why do you always have so much wool? The zipper keeps getting stuck! There we go! Sheesh! They don't call you Wooly for nothing!”

“Amanda…” Wooly grumbles. 

“I'm just teasing you a little. Chill out. Oh wait-” Amanda starts to giggle. Wooly rolls his eyes. “Alright Wooly, let's get home!” Amanda beams. The credits theme starts playing and the credits roll. The Hameln logo appears and starts glitching all over the place before the tape falls out. Weird. Riley thinks. 

“Interesting… I've never seen Wooly get upset like that before…” Margret pointed out, “though it could just be that I haven't been watching the tapes as long as Kate…”

“It’s rare but… I don’t think we want to push it… see about Joanne’s death-” 

“Alright Margret, I think I have everything.” Kate sighed, looking and sounding completely exhausted. 

“That was fast… I need to double check…” Margret said skeptically. 

“Wait-” “Guess that means you’re on puzzle duty Riley!” Margret said with a wink, making finger guns at Riley. When am I not on puzzle duty? Riley wonders. They look back at the fallen tape. I really think we should be a little more careful around Wooly…

Authors Note: Not 100% sure how canon they act in this. I think at some point I might've stopped caring a little. I decided I wanted Margret to be silly. We need a comedic character in these trying times. What with all the angst and whatnot.