#a little rushed bc i need to study but i desperately need to talk about him

[wibble-wobbegong]

Mike vs Selfishness

The sheer number of people who misunderstand Mike as a character, even as fans of his, face one major flaw; they root his actions in self interest. They believe he is selfish. Even with positive connotation, this is wrong.

For some reason, it seems that the world has decided we must have balance between selfishness and selflessness between characters— if Will is selfless, then Mike must be selfish. This is the very trap that the writers set in S4. Their intention was to mislead and misconstrue. Will is shown to be giving up many things over and over and over for Mike, so he’s painted as the selfless hero (which he is). Mike? We mostly see him from others’ perspectives, meaning we only see him take. He isn’t aware of the sacrifices being made for him, but the show is producing the image of him never sacrificing in turn. Your mind will naturally lead you to view him as selfish because of the lack of reciprocity being shown. They want you to go blind to Mike’s sacrifice so the reveal hits that much harder.

But we aren’t blind. Mike is a character so inherently good that even stripping him of any sympathetic connection with the audience cannot hide the love and kindness inside him. The writers are true to their characters, so no amount of hiding will keep Mike’s true nature repressed— you just have to look, and look we have.

If we’re to look at Mike and know he is not what we perceive, how is it that so many people fail to understand that he is as selfless as any other character? Mike is not a boy with a monster hidden under his skin waiting to take what it wants despite how often we see this description of him floating around. This idea is in omnipresent in so many analysis posts or by those who say they’re fans of his imperfect characterization when that isn’t what makes him imperfect.

For example, it seems to be commonplace to believe that Mike is dating El to hide to some degree— not necessarily as a beard, but as an excuse for his behavior; his prioritization if her; his avoidance of Will. Rather than using El as an excuse, it’s much more plausible that Mike legitimately puts El above other people sometimes. When you look at Mike’s story with El it is so very blatant that he wants to do things for her and help her and make her happy. The very beginning of their friendship in S1 had been Mike seeing El and wanting to help. He rescued her and let her stay and took care of her when he first found her— sending her back to Pennhurst was not malicious or uncaring. He genuinely thought it was best for her at the time.

As Mike gets to know her he learns of her tragic past and comes to admire her as a person for her strength and sense of justice. El has lived a life of anger and sadness and abuse and Mike knows this. He sees a good person who has known nothing but suffering and wants to help her live the happiest life she can lead and Mike believes part of her happiness comes from being with him. Of course he’ll do it. He may not love her romantically, but he loves her so strongly in other ways that he’s willing to pretend for her sake. He’s been pretending since the end of S2. She moves to kiss him and he freezes, but they end up at the Snowball together anyway.

He’s giving too much of himself. He takes it too far and abandons intrinsic parts of himself for her happiness— this includes movies, hanging out with friends, music, and more than anything else, Will. Not Will himself but the part of him that belongs to Will. The part that loves him.

Mike’s selflessness reaches the furthest extremes. He’s willing to kill himself for Dustin with zero hesitation. He’s willing to abandon his personhood in hopes El is happy. He’ll shoulder the blame in fights with Will and hide the truth when he realizes Will never meant to hurt him. In fact, he tries to prevent Will from ever realizing he’s angry with him and continues to push him away during the fight at Rink-o-Mania. Mike consistently backs away from any confrontation where he has to address himself and his wants and his feelings when they aren’t there to help others. With Lucas at the beginning of the season, he backs down the second Lucas explains himself. During the rain fight, he’s calm and apologetic until Will brings El into it. Mike will always try to redirect things away from himself and Will is the only person who wont let him.

Normally, selflessness doesn’t take such intense and demanding forms. It doesn’t hurt others. Selflessness is usually shown as positive altruism or as an isolated punishment upon the self. Mike falls into the end of self punishment.

Self punishment always leads to unintentionally hurting others. Usually, se’d see this displayed from the perspective of the punisher. We don’t have Mike’s perspective. The punishments he imposes on himself are not visible to us.

Mike is a good, selfless person. He’s so sacrificial and feels so inferior that he doesn’t value his side of the story and acts as a servant to the happiness of the people around him. He’s rarely confrontational about issues that center around his wants and his feelings. When I say Mike is the prime example of a character who is a victim of themself I mean that he will destroy himself to hand out the pieces to people who he thinks need them.

There is nothing about him that is selfish or holds expectations that can’t be broken down. Mike’s rare selfish acts crumble like worn towers and his sacrifice will never be enough in his eyes. It’s all self imposed, but self imposition does not equate to selfishness. That’s what people miss about his character.

Mike is selfless in the most destructive, dangerous way positive. He has lost any sense of self importance, and that’s pretty clearly reflected in his monologue in the van (which happens to be the only time he really opens up and immediately calls himself stupid for it).

BASICALLY: mike’s not selfish he’s just selfless to the point of destruction and hurts people. hurting people is not inherent to selfishness . bro is big stupid and lives to please lmao

[aether-bun]

Dating headcanons for dead plate Vince and rody??? (Seperate)

DEAD PLATE BOYFRIENDS!!

Ok. Ok. The chokehold these two have me in is something that needs to be studied actually. Utterly thrilled that I get to write for them. Thank you so much Anon.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Talks of aggression, NSFW if you squint

Reader is gender neutral ♡

VINCENT is subtly affectionate being your boyfriend.

I think it's obvious that Vincent is very cold, inside and out, even if it isn't intentional

Little does the outside world know, however, he's very affectionate with you!

Behind closed doors, he finds small ways to be in contact with you

Knees touching, pinkies grazing, shoulders bumping, the works

It's not that he's afraid or repulsed by full on affection, it's just more comfortable for him to act the way he does. It means he can recharge without being away from you, but without overwhelming himself

I think he's a very big fan of chaste kisses, or at least giving them. Whenever he receives such rushed notes of affection, he refuses to admit it, but it leaves him with a sense of yearning :(

Adores hand kisses holy shit

I like to hc that he has a little lemon tree somewhere that he takes care of with such enthusiasm it's wild

The one thing you can't touch in his apartment is that tree. Hard boundary.

When he comes upstairs after work, he's usually very tired

This means that you both tend to just quietly enjoy each other's presence until he falls asleep in bed

Some days he's REALLY tired.

One of the chefs fucked up a batch so badly that it pushed service back by an additional 40 minutes while he had someone run supplies

It cost him a lot. That chef was brutally torn into and promptly told to never come back. Very unprofessional, but no one would say much about it.

Very exhausting lesson in hiring better employees in Vince's eyes.

That night he just laid down on your thighs and ranted. He doesn't tend to talk much for too long out of personal preference but that night he couldn't shut himself up.

You just gently combed through his hair and listened

The sensations soothed him and he got over the anger fairly well

(now he lays on your thighs some nights just to score some extra nice attention)

Dates are always very lavish, it's his personal favourite thing to spoil you. He always has a hand on you during outings of any kind.

Will pull you closer if anyone stares at you.

Gentle with you, in every possible situation, but firm

He really just doesn't want anyone to hurt you, but on top of that, he couldn't bear the ache he'd feel to see you look at someone else the way you look at him

Slut for calling you "Mine". End of discussion.

RODY is hellbent on giving you the whole world.

Loves loves LOVES cuddles

You cannot get this man off of you he is so clingy

He wants what's best for you and more this man will break limbs for you

I will say you were probably originally going to be a rebound relationship

After Manon, he found you, but it had barely been a month and he was clearly desperate for love

He was honest about Manon and the recent breakup, and in turn, you were honest about your returned feelings for him, but you very firmly said he'd have to move on first

It took a long time. You waited.

When he did get better, you two hit it off! He cared for you and you looked out for him

Your dates are walks through the park, café breakfasts and movie nights

Rody is a big fan of kisses

He kisses you and you can feel his love pouring through them, he deepens the kisses like he's starved, even though you're more than affectionate with each other all the time

Service top or complete bottom. Not because he's dainty bc he definitely isn't. He just loves you so much he wants you to have everything. He lives to serve you at this point let's be so real

Learned how to budget for you!!!! Whoa!!!!!!!!

I think Rody dances with you all the time

Rain or shine, dawn or dusk, happy or sad, he finds it nice to dance with you

It calms him

He gives the BEST MASSAGES IDC

Butterfly kisses and nose kisses are this man's kryptonite. He will cry. He has before.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey!!!! Sorry for the random hiatus, life killed me a little, but I'm back and raring to go! Dragon Anon, if you're reading this, I am working on your req but I'm making sure I actually know the DLC this time so it's taking a while to get through the content. Bear with me!!!

Sorry if these were a little sloppy, getting back into writing is a lil difficult but I'm working as best I can. I hope you enjoyed, and remember to leave your requests in my inbox!

Ciao for now~

[yesimwriting]

Hi! I understand if this isn’t something you’re interested in but I was wondering if you could write the boys being possessive/protective over the reader. I was just rereading final girl chapter 5 and I’d just love to see her rip them a new one in her own way about boundaries and stuff and seeing them manipulate/grovel there way in to her good graces again or like how she would’ve reacted to the boys scaring away the boy who took her to the party if Billy wasn’t in one of his moods I don’t know if I asked this right I’ve sent asks so many time to you now and I’m all ways worried I don’t convey/explain what I mean properly and it’s just confusing for you but anyway have a good day/night and whether you can or can’t,thank you anyway :)

*set in the same world as the final girl fic series but can be read as a stand alone with little to no context lol

A/n hi!! there's still some manipulative vibes in this bc i just feel like one of them is bound to trauma dump as a way 'in' when y/n's mad at them but i still feel like it's mainly nice! especially bc there's some emotional growth

----

You're still on the phone, moving in and out of their line of sight. The intention was never to watch you from the sprawling tree they use to get to your window, but there was something about your focus on the whatever conversation you're still having that left Billy telling Stu to wait.

Billy's not sure what he's waiting for. Maybe it's a form of masochism, to see how long you'll talk to whoever's on the other end.

"She's still on the phone." Stu's voice has taken on that hollow, detached quality that's never an indicator of self control. Billy says nothing, not in the mood to defend you or deflect the stinging. "He wouldn't call her..."

There's a second part of Stu's sentence that's just implied. He wouldn't call her after what happened in the locker room. "She found out. She might have called him."

The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. The fact that Jack McCarthy didn't permanently fade back into obscurity after he and Stu made it clear that while you might buy the whole study-buddy act, they can see straight through him is pounding inside his head. Again and again, the start of a headache.

"If you don't want to..." Stu presses his palm into bark, so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he pulled his hand away bloody. "If you're not in the mood to talk to cutie in there, there's always another way to see if she's talking to him."

Even though it's a barely an idea, a soft suggestion, the knot in Stu's chest loosens with the words. Just checking in on Jack could easily turn into calling Jack...which would lead to the most mind clearing thing Stu can imagine. Thoughts of tearing him apart, piece by piece until it's impossible to tell that the mess of red and guts was ever the teenager with the letterman jacket that threw his arm around you during your study period rush to the front of Stu's mind. It's so soothing that he almost moves to the lower branch that lets him reach the ground.

Stu thinks about bringing it up again, a little less subtle and more desperate but he wants it too bad to care. Needs it. You pace back into view as his lips part. You're now holding the phone against your other ear, meaning that the receiver is no longer blocking your face. He pauses, taking the opportunity to watch you more openly than he normally lets himself.

Your lips are slightly parted in a just barely-there pout and your eyes are locked on something in front of you. There's something about the slight, halfhearted irritation in your expression. It takes Stu a second to place why he can't stop staring and then it clicks--it's twistingly cute...and you're...pretty.

Not that Stu doesn't regularly see you as attractive or hot, but pretty's different. At least, different in the way it's sticking out to him now, like a splinter that breaks off beneath the skin before you can pull it out. You're pretty in a way that Stu never thinks about. Pretty in a soft way that reminds him of domestic shit and makes his chest feel tight.

"We uh--" It's not the first time they've popped by with a backpack with a few things to do, but this time it's different. They took their time thinking about what you'd like, what'd work as a sort of peace offering. Now, watching you chat away without a care in the world over your fight, it all feels pathetic.

Everything becomes a soft buzz of background noise as you press you sigh. Billy wishes he knew how to better read lips because you sigh, say something, and then dramatically fall back on your bed.

You shift onto your stomach, propping your head up with an elbow. The oversized T-shirt that you're in slides down your shoulder and your hair's a little fluffier than before due to your movements. There's a softness to your appearance that leaves an odd feeling flaring in Billy's stomach, a sensation that could be considered butterflies if it felt less like being stabbed.

The in-between of too close while still being so far is oddly overwhelming drawn out like this. Billy swallows as you laugh at something from the other line. "We're already here."

It's a different level of sad to get here and then turn around, so Billy shift forward and finally reaches for the window. The move has grown so familiar Billy even knows at what point he needs to push a little harder because of the way the sides stick to the frame. He moves his hand an it doesn't budge. To add salt to the wound, you've locked the window. You never lock the fucking window.

A dangerous wave of flighty rejection coils in his stomach. The part of him that knows how to think in the long term knows that he should leave while he still can. The last thing anyone needs is for Billy to start associating this with you.

The window creeks and your head snaps towards them. Your eyebrows draw together and you sit up fully, even more of your shoulder and collarbone exposing themselves with the motion. You mumble something into the phone, a beat passes, and then you stand. you approach the window begrudgingly, placing a hand on your hip before cradling the phone between your neck and cheek.

Your lips are pressed together in a way that seems to lull the violent mindset of them both. It's the kind of look you get when you're trying not to smile. After a second, you lean down, undo the lock, and open the window.

"You won't belie--" You sigh, moving to hold the phone again, "Stop enjoying this." Whoever's on the other line must really be annoying you, because you shift back enough to let Billy and Stu in through the window. "Seriously, I'll hang up."

Billy and Stu exchange a look. They're here, trying to get you past something only you think is an issue, and you're still on the fucking phone. Who could be that important?

"No! You are so not talking to them."

There's a brief silence as you wander back towards your bed. The growing discomfort in Billy's chest wins his silent, internal argument. "Who wants to talk to us?"

At that, you finally pause, breeziness briefly leaving your eyes as you look at him. That look pinches at Billy's flightiness and soothes a part of him that he doesn't quite get. You're so good at that, at detecting whatever you want in him. The inability to twist and fully control your perception of him is overwhelming sometimes. Too similar to the way that his mom could--

"Hallie." Your normal expression has come back, like it always does. The awareness that Billy doubts you understand outside of a subconscious level never lingers on your face. But your voice delivers the answer so gently it feels like an olive branch. "You've subjected her to a super long rant about your betrayal."

Despite all the aggression you forced into your words, that relaxes something in them both. Hallie--the completely harmless childhood best friend that's still in Texas. States away, way too far to come between the three of you, even if she wanted to.

"Hallie," Stu repeats, and Billy can feel Stu's shift to something much more genuine. "The super hot girl from your vacation pho--"

"Do not start." You hold up a finger in warning and there's something in the reaction. You'd deny it if anyone ever brought it up, but Stu's noticed the way you get when he goes out of the way to hit on anyone. Even Tatum. You're subtle about, but you get a little quieter as you pick at your nails or try to focus on something else. This time, though, there's none of that, just a bit of urging annoyance. "She has a big enough head as is."

There's a sound from the other line and you roll your eyes. "What? It's true." You're listening to whatever's on the other end intently. "Okay--fine--bye, loser." Another wave of chatter from the other line. "Uh--it's--" You glance over at the two boys still lingering in the corner. "Love you, too. Bye."

You hang up, making a point of keeping your back to them as you set the receiver back onto the machine on your nightstand.

Stu breaks, laughing once. You snap your head in his direction. "Shut up."

Stu takes a tentative step towards you, already liking how quickly you're easing. Maybe all you needed was to feel a little more in control by ranting to someone that isn't here. "Why don't you ever tell me you love me?"

You glare at Stu's exaggerated pout. "You do not get to make fun of me while I'm mad at you." You stand a little straighter. "Why are you guys even here?"

"Not making fun of you." Stu reaches your bed, flopping onto your mattress like he lives with you. He casually picks up a fluffy pillow and squeezes it to his chest. "Genuinely hurt that you don't love us."

Confusion cracks at your annoyance, "Us?"

"If you said 'I love you' to grumpy before me, I don't wanna know." He squeezes the pillow a little tighter, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut like he can't take the agony. "Too painful, bug."

You cross your arms again, eyes awkwardly falling to the ground. It's not Stu's dramatics that get to you, but you never like it when anyone reduces Billy into something negative and angsty. "He's not grumpy."

"Oh, defensive." Stu absentmindedly weaves his fingers through the pillow's layer of fluff. "Didn't think you'd still care."

You sigh, annoyed at his passive aggressiveness as if they didn't come to your room while fully aware of how mad you are. "That's dramatic, even for you."

"Is it?" Billy mumbles the question, low and almost unsure. "We--we weren't sure if you'd talk to us again."

The comment leaves you feeling like the intruding force. Something about their somber mood makes it seem like you're what's unfitting even though they came to your room. "Just because I'm mad right now doesn't mean I'll be mad forever."

You're not sure you could be. Sure, you have other friends you really care about, but they're all linked to Billy and Stu. They're dating Sid and Tatum and Randy's usually with the group. It's not that you think the three of them would cut you off, but it wouldn't be the same. And even if everything without Billy and Stu could be perfect, you still wouldn't be happy. Not fully.

You'd miss them, miss the way that Stu can always make you laugh no matter how you're feeling and how comforting Billy's presence can be. They might really push boundaries sometimes, but they're still your best friends.

"I get that you--" Sighing, you scratch the back of your wrist. "Hallie and I were talking about it and she reminded me that you guys have good intentions, and I get that, but this is the second time I have to find out that you threatened someone behind my back."

Stu's moved onto his side, head propped up on an elbow as he watches you. Billy's still lingering near the window. Both of them are quiet and that's getting to you. "I'm not a little kid and I don't need you guys to approve of everyone I'm friends with."

"They didn't want to be friends with you." There's no argument in Stu's voice or aggression, just a factual flatness that leaves your face hot.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. Noel wanting more than friendship's something that makes sense. He was flirty, you went out on a date, and he's known for being an insensitive player. But Jack didn't seem like that at all. Sure, he's a quarterback and hangs out with the guys that never shut up during class, but he had a reason to study with you. Your english teacher assigned him to be tutored by you because his grades were dropping to the point where his coach was threatening to bench him. Sure, he was nice to you, but that's probably because he was worried about his grade. No star player wants to be benched during recruiting season.

The implication also leaves a hard feeling in your stomach. It picks at an insecurity that rooted itself into you around that time in middle school where kids pair up and start dating. Naivety is a weak spot when it comes to teenagers and your inexperience translates into that. Part of it is your mom, the way she's been open about what it meant to become a mom at 17. The rest of it is genuine interest and practicality. You want to go to Princeton, dating is distracting and you haven't really met anyone you like enough to sacrifice studying or time with your friends.

And it doesn't bother you. Not usually. You know life is long and eventually the whole relationship thing will click and work its way to you, probably with some college guy that's majoring in something artsy, but then things like this come up and it makes you feel so stupid.

"Doesn't matter what they want." That feels like a mature enough answer, and it's not a lie. Teenage boys want sex. You're not so out of the loop that that's some kind of revelation. But what they want or think they're getting doesn't change you. "I'm not an idiot and I'm not that naive."

Even if you were, it's not their business to get involved without you asking. For all they know, maybe you want to hook up with someone. That's your choice, not theirs. "And even if I was, it's still my choice."

Billy angles his head downwards, eyes a little darker than you remember them being. "So our big crime is not wanting you to get hurt?"

Ugh. That's more or less the argument Hallie made while playing the devil's advocate. It must have taken a lot for Hallie to defend anyone that isn't you, but she knew that blowing up your friendship with Billy and Stu over a guy you barely knew would only hurt you more in the long run.

"It's--" Trying to explain your issue with the situation is getting exhausting. They're not capable of focusing on anything besides their intentions. "It's a boundaries thing. You can't threaten anyone you don't like into not talking to me behind my back."

Stu's sitting up now, the plush pillow on his lap. "We didn't think of it that way, angel. We just--we know those guys and know what they're like and what you're like, and--" He's fidgeting, fingers tangling into the synthetic hairs of the pillow. "We don't want anything happening to you."

The sentiment's there, forced out almost shyly. It's almost enough to distract you from the weird intensity there. Something happening to you. Over some guy. You get that heartbreak can be a pretty intense thing, but it can't be that bad.

"Nothing's--" You cut yourself off with a sigh. At this rate, they'll eventually be more protective than your mom. They're both weirdly quiet. "What's the big deal if I'm 'hurt' by some stupid guy? It's not like I'd lose it and stop talking to my friends or like it'd effect us or...anything."

Billy lets out a low scoff. The sound is so cold and unlike him you don't know how to react. "Really?"

You hesitate before reminding yourself that it's still just Billy. "...Yeah?" The single syllable falls flat. "I mean...why would it?"

Billy steps forward. "All it took for me to lose--" The sudden movement makes you stiffen until he sits at the foot of your bed, next to Stu. "My mom was her being hurt by some 'stupid guy'.'

Stu freezes. There are a lot of ways this could have gone, but he didn't think that Billy would drop that. Not tonight, with the way Billy tiptoes around his mom's absence and the reason behind it. It's not the kind of thing he'd throw away just to get you to make up with them a little faster...and the rawness in Billy's voice...

Jack might have to end up on their call list anyway.

You're silent as you study them with an expression that would be completely unreadable if it wasn't for the tiny crease between your eyebrows. Billy's hinted at stuff with his mom before, but the way he talked about her always framed her in a way that made it seem like she had passed. You also didn't think he'd ever say anything about what happened so bluntly...or that something that seemed so small to you could have been forcing him to think about those things.

Billy's eyes are focused on nothing in particular, one of his knees pressed against Stu's. His insides feel like they're at war with each other. That bleeding honesty took over with no warning and it's blinding him to everything else. The reminder of the abandonment gnaws at him.

The mattress dips. You don't know what the right way to react is. While this makes their behavior make a little more sense, that doesn't make your point wrong. They did overstep. But that's nowhere near as heavy as Billy's thing. And it couldn't have been easy for Stu to watch his best friend's life fall apart over something like that.

There's something you should say, you're almost sure of it, but nothing feels good enough. Pointing out the differences in the situation feels callous and any promises you could make would likely make it seem like you blame his mom. You might not know much about their relationship, but the way Billy talks about her, like her memory's this fragile thing, you know better than to risk it. An apology also doesn't feel like the right answer, you haven't done anything wrong and you don't want to risk bringing up the fight.

You stretch out a hand silently, letting your fingertips brush against the back of his palm. He briefly tenses, but doesn't move away, so you take it as an okay to rest your hand over his.

Your touch is warm and unexpected, an anchor Billy's torn between latching onto and running away from. It's overwhelming, the amount of influence you have over him. Sometimes if he thinks too much about how that uncertainty feels he has to fight to not hold it against you.

"I know it's..." Billy speaks slowly, trying to force himself to believe what he's saying, or at least, focus on it enough to act like he does. "Different, it just..."

You brush your pointer finger across his knuckles. "I know." A warmth that's hard to accept burns through his chest. Billy turns his hand over before loosely linking your fingers together. "Just boundaries, okay?"

Billy nods, a bit more color returning to his face. You straighten your spine to look past Billy's shoulder and at Stu. "That goes for you, too."

"You've got it, babe."

"That means no more threatening guys just because they talked to me." You keep your expression serious in an attempt to stare down Stu. It's probably no where near as menacing as you want it to be. "I'm serious."

He lifts an arm to his chest, drawing an uneven cross over his heart. "Scout's Honor."

You roll your eyes. "You were never a boy scout."

Stu frowns, "How would you know?"

It's not so much information as it is his vibe. Stu seems way too active and focused on what he'd find fun to have wanted to stick to boy scouting and you doubt his parents have ever been around enough to make him. But that's way too much to answer his question with. "Were you?"

"Ye--"

"He got kicked out," Billy interjects, "After terrorizing a camping trip."

You laugh before you can stop yourself. It's easy to picture Stu a little younger and a lot more impulsive. "That tracks."

"Fuck off," he mumbles before slumping down until he's flat on his back.

Billy turns his head, giving you a look that seems to ask why you two put up with him. The expression is so familiar you can't help your relief. You're still a little rightfully annoyed at them, but the desire to keep them lighter beats that irritation out by an inch. "What'd he do?"

The real answer isn't anything too traumatic, but it involved newly learned pocket knife skills, a frog, and a pathetically squirmish tent mate. But that's not the kind story of you'd be particularly into. It might even make you a little more closed off. They learned early on that while you might be able to handle most scary movies and gore like a champ, you draw a line at anything happening to an animal.

"Imagine that at age 10." Billy vaguely gestures in Stu's direction, Stu lifts an arm to shove Billy. "What didn't he do?" You smile, a little more amused than you want to be. "And you've seen his house...the way he lives..."

Another wave of laughter rises up your throat before you can help it. The implication that Stu was too spoiled to get through a camping trip is a little too fitting.

Stu groans, reaching back for the fluffy pillow. He smacks Billy's arm with it, a passive display of aggression. "It was not like that." Stu turns his neck, "Don't listen to him."

You laugh again, briefly forgetting that you're still supposed to be annoyed with them as you lay down. "I've been to your house, your bathroom has more amenities than a hotel, so I believe him."

He twists his neck to glare at you. It's more of a pout than anything else. "You have a hundred things in your bathroom."

Stu's technically right, but it's different. He's counting in your perfectly reasonable--and reasonably(ish)--priced makeup, skin care, and hair stuff. Not all things you use everyday or necessarily need, but it's different. He has fancy hand soap that leaves skin extra soft and lotion for guests that's nicer than anything you own for yourself. "You're deflecting."

He scoffs, "Can't hear you over the beauty store in your bathroom."

It's said so seriously it circles back to kind of ridiculous. Especially because of how pointless it is. You wrinkle your nose, fighting down a grin. "That doesn't make sense."

Stu's lips part like he's going to instinctually jump to defend himself. Your smile stops him. "It doesn't."

After a beat, the two of you exchange a look and laugh. Billy sighs, shoving Stu's leg and your arm. "You two aren't funny."

"Maybe you're just boring."

Billy looks over at you, glaring. "Really?"

You nod, a little too smug. "Really."

"Don't listen to him." Stu halfheartedly pushes Billy. In retaliation, Billy extends an arm without looking, grabbing Stu's forearm in a way that, to you, looks surprisingly gentle. "He's jealous."

You smile as Stu sits up. "I can so see that."

Billy's eyebrows draw together. "Jealous of what?"

"Our not-boringness." You push yourself so that you're sitting again.

"Yeah, you two are super cool and not weird."

Scoffing, you pull your legs onto the bed and cross them beneath you. "I'm not weird."

Billy tilts his head in the direction of your desk. "How many sticky notes are in--"

"You promised not to use that against me." You cut him off, not overly thrilled at the mention of sticky notes. Early on in your friendship, he found you going through your locker while you were sorting through sticky note and highlighter combos for homework.

His eyebrows pull together, his nose wrinkling a little in a way that's painfully endearing and surprisingly casual. "I promised not to tell anyone." He angles himself towards you, tilting his head downwards. The movements were subtle, but something about the shift makes him feel a lot closer than before. "That's different."

Your breath tangles itself in your throat at his lower tone. You need to say something, because if you don't you'd just be staring and that's--You force out the first thing you can think of, "Technicality."

"Still counts." There's nothing else you can think of and he still feels closer than normal. Before your thoughts can turn into total panic, Billy turns towards Stu, who's digging through his backpack. "What are you doing?"

"Almost forgot." Stu finds what he's looking for. It's small from where you're sitting. He reaches behind Billy's bag to extend whatever he's holding towards you. "Here."

A bag of gummy candies. You take it skeptically, because it's been twisted shut oddly. Smoothing out the wrinkled plastic, you open the bag and look at the contents. A part of you is surprised that it actually does have gummies...only they all look the same. Confused, you shake the bag once and the candies move, confirming it is what it looks like. They're all your favorite.

"I don't like the red ones," he mumbles, not quite looking at you, "But you do, right?"

You grin, pulling a gummy bear out of the bag and biting off its head to put it out of its misery humanely. "The red ones are the best, you're weird for that."

He scoffs, "The cute ones always have bad taste."

"I think you're complimenting yourself with that one." You pop the rest of the gummy into your mouth. "Orange lover."

"The orange ones are objectively--"

"They're all the acidic parts of a real orange without the orangey-ness."

Billy looks over at you. "Orangey-ness?" He's convinced he's heard this argument more times than anyone else alive, but your points are usually a little better.

You glare, pulling another gummy out of your bag. "You're not a part of this, you like the pineapple ones."

Stu laughs, "He also likes grape flavored stuff."

You gasp like Stu just outed Billy as a criminal. "No way."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, already tired, "Make fun of me."

And after a second, he realizes that he really means it. If you're not mad at them, he can handle it.

----

A/n i never know if i should use the final girl tag list for fics that are set in the final girl world (if that makes sense), bc it's an update technically but also not bc it's not the main fic??

idk i've seen other writers on here tag for more than just the main fic and i'm always happy to be tagged in stuff but idk if that's for everyone lol,, lmk if you have any thought!

[leossmoonn]

ooh ok this one is kinda angsty-

so you have another one of your competitions with academic rival!matt when there's another exam coming up. you're both enjoying it but your mom surprises you by showing up and yk she's very jugdy, always tries to find flaws in everything you do and basically belittles you for everything you do and you desperately need to get the best grade on this exam bc you don't want to deal with your mom again. one day she says some really mean stuff to you and matt finds you crying and then you basically tell him everything your mom says to you so matt being a softie purposely gets a D on that exam just to cheer you up and then when you find out why he did it you're mad at him at first bc he shouldn't mess with his grades but it's so sweet so then yall have soft sex 🥺

AAWWWWW

16+

When you didn’t show up to class was when Matt got genuinely worried. You never skipped class. Even when you were sick you still went, you just wore a mask and attempted to not fall asleep lmao

He practically ran to your dorm room after class, wanting — needing — to make sure you were okay. His heart breaks as he hears you crying. For being your academic rival, he sure has a big soft spot for ya

“Y/n? You okay?” Matt asks.

He hears you sniffle and you stop crying. A few moments pass by before you open the door. Although he can’t see you, he knows your eyes are all swollen and red, nose is runny, lip is quivering. He has to stop himself from hugging you (he def could but you would probably be taken aback lmao)

“What do you want?” You ask, your voice breaking. “You weren’t in class today and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he explains.

You’re def shocked he cares. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are, Y/n. I —”

You can tell he cares, but you know him (or you think you do hehe) and you think he’s just trying to butter you up so he can go on with his teasing games again. “Look, Matt, this was nice, but I’m fine. I really don’t have time for your —”

“I’m not playing right now, Y/n.” He takes your hand into his, gently rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

You’re like 😦😳

“You have never skipped class a day in your life. And in the two years I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you cry before. What’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

You sigh, not wanting to hide it anymore bc you really need someone to talk to. “I-It’s my mom.” And just like that, you’re back to sobbing.

Cut to you crying in Matt’s shoulder on your bed. His arm is wrapped around you, hugging you close as you’re snuggled into his side. You’re ranting to him and telling him everything your mom has said to you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to kick your mom’s ass. But of course, he lets his anger subside bc it won’t make anything better

“Thanks for being here, Matt,” you sniffle. “Of course. You know, I can be nice,” he says.

You laugh, “who knew?”

You two hang out for the rest of the day. You even took a nap bc crying is just exhausting (it really is I’m not being sarcastic). And you two were cuddling hehe. And Matt didn’t even sleep, he just listened to your breathing pattern and heartbeat, literally on cloud nine at the fact that you were in his arms and sleeping and he could hear your soft little snores and little mutters. Ugh he’s whipped

Anyways test day comes and when you discover he got a D you are absolutely furious. You stomp into his dorm room like “why the hell did you get a D?”

Matt’s like “I just didn’t study.”

You’re like “nu-uh. You once told me you’d never let anything get in the way of your grades. What happened? Oh my god, did I distract you with my crying?” You suddenly feel so bad and guilty and Matt rushes to assure you.

“No, no it wasn’t you, I promise.”

“Then what was it? That D can cost you a lot.”

Matt gets all shy and is like “…. It was for you”

“For me? What????”

“Yeah, I know you were feeling really bad about your mom and I thought that if you got the highest grade in this test then you would feel better.”

You’re walk close to him like 🙄🙄🙄 “you’re an idiot.”

Matt’s so nervous now that you’re so close to him. He fixes his glasses, smiling nervously. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.”

“But it’s sweet. You’re a sweet of to jeopardize your grace because of me.” You take your hand into his, running your thumbs along his knuckles, mirroring his actions the other day. He’s so glad you don’t have super hearing bc you’d think he was having a heart attack lmao

“Some would say it’s almost romantic,” you hum.

Damn, now you’ve caught him in his little hating you façade

“I-I guess,” he nods. “You don’t really hate me, Matt, right?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t. I’m guessing you don’t hate me either?”

“I don’t,” you smile. You put your other hand on his chest, pulling yourself closer to him. “Thank you for being a real friend the last few days Matt.”

“Of course. You deserve no less,” he says.

And then you figure there’s nothing else left to be said. You close the gap between you two, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. His arms wrap around you immediately, his hands gripping your hips. You reach your hand out to the doorknob, locking it before moving to the bed. You land on your back, smiling as Matt climbs in between your legs.

“I’ve been waiting for this forever,” he breathes out. Your heart warms at his words. “Me, too, Matt. We should’ve done this a long time ago.”

He kisses your again, holding your face gently. You take off his sweater, very very much surprised at how fit he is (who knew that nerd had abs? Lol).

Ugh and during the whole thing he’s so sweet. He kisses you everywhere, praising you every other word, making sure you get what you need before he even thinks about his own pleasure.

You two fall asleep naked and holding hands. Safe to say you then started dating and basically lasted forever <3

[unprofessional-bard]

Have it Your Way

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Request: yooo you should totally do a nsfw bigby wolf x f! reader 👀 Mr. Wolf going apeshit bc of work stress is lit

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Female!Reader

Warnings: A lil bit of tension, then pure smut with (fluffy?) after care: Rough oral (m! receiving) and unprotected vaginal sex + fingering & Bigby going beast mode, so a lot of biting and scratching~

Summary: The sheriff is more than grateful to find you in his office after a rough day at work.

Word Count: 3.521

Author's Note: I got a little carried away while writing this sjsnsjdnjss I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it 😅

Enjoy!

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a fast approaching figure to where you were standing. You raise your head to see it's Bigby and he looks- well, pissed.

"Finally," You sigh as his steps slow down when he sees you. His knuckles are bruised and bottom lip cut, not to mention the bandages wrapped around his forearms and elbows. His frown dissolves just a little bit when you show your concern to him: "What the hell happened?"

"Woody happened," He growls and walks into the office before you can reach for his hands to take a closer look at his wounds. You follow him inside quietly and close the door. "What are you doing here, anyway? It's late."

He's right, it's around midnight and it was a little uncharacteristic of you to show up this late and at his office, instead of his apartment.

What you and Bigby have... it doesn't really have a proper name. Two people enjoying each other's company is a light term, fuckbuddies is a little vulgar for the both of you. There's sex, a healthy amount of it, but not too much romance. No romance at all, in fact. You weren't dating or anything, friends with benefits would be the closest term. People probably guessed you two had something going on, but it lacks certain emotions and behaviours to confirm their thoughts.

And you're okay with it. He's a bit of a wreck, truth be told - being this town's sheriff takes its toll on him, but by the gods he's one attractive man. Your relationship with him fit his aesthetic well, too. Surprisingly you hadn't caught feelings for him yet, but seeing him all beaten and tired like a puppy made your heart ache. You felt a strange responsibility of taking care of him, not like a wife and certainly not like a mother... but the instinct was there.

"I've been trying to reach you the whole day," You say calmly, not wanting to get on his bad side. "I got a little worried."

"I was out," He lights a cigarette and turns around to face you, leaning against the desk with crossed arms. "Nothing I can't handle... the usual stuff."

"You okay, though?" You take a step forward and take his chin in your hand gently, studying the cut on his bottom lip. "Come back to my place, I'll take care of this, hm?" You say, indicating his wounds. "If you want, of course."

His frown is still present and he senses that you're afraid: Afraid of pissing him off more and tries to calm himself for your sake, to no avail. He's confused about your sudden closeness - not physically, but because of your offer. You? Want to take care of him? We didn't agree to catch feelings, he thinks and his nose scrunches up with curiosity, trying to understand what was going on.

"Why? Are you a nurse and not telling me?" He takes a drag from the cigarette, but his tone comes off more annoyed than teasing and he notices the shift in your tone when you reply.

"Christ Bigby," You roll your eyes and turn around to leave. "If you want to be alone, just say so."

Before you can reach the door handle, he grabs your wrist to stop you, turns you around and places his hands on your waist. Your annoyance dissipates the moment his eyes lock with yours: "I didn't say I wanted to be alone..." He pulls you closer while pushing you against the door, then places a ghostly kiss on your jaw: "I need you."

"Here-?" You try to ask but when he lightly bites on that soft spot he knows so well on your neck, you interrupt yourself with a quiet gasp.

"Here..." He growls, suddenly gets impatient and kisses you deeply. His tongue is quick to find yours and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, which he takes it as his cue to grab your thighs and lift you up. Another gasp mixed with a soft moan leaves your lips when your core brushes against his erection - you'd worn a slip dress before going down to his office, so his hands easily sneak under it to push it up until your upper thighs reveal themselves to him. He was too busy giving all his attention to your lips that he was caught a little off guard when his growing erection met with your clothed pussy.

You're a little overwhelmed by how he's trying to hold back, because he's angry and clearly wants to blow off some steam, but doesn't want to hurt you in the process - it excites you and you want him to be rough, actually, so you bite his bottom lip when he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of where your thighs meet your ass. He pulls back suddenly and for a terrifying moment you think you bit the cut part- you didn't mean to hurt him, but luckily he doesn't seem hurt but rather bewildered.

He holds your gaze for a torturous few seconds and you just squirm against him impatiently: He hears your heart rate pick up and it's because you're excited, so he asks: "You want it rough, sweetheart?" You nod in fast motions, expression somewhere between desperate and aching and it makes him harder, if that was even possible. "You sure? I won't be gentle-"

"Just fuck me, Bigby," You whine, to his surprise. "You're angry: Go ahead, take it all out on me."

You feel his growing nails dig into your skin, then he kisses you once more, rougher than any kiss you shared with him.

There's a moment when you're spontaneously turned on by one another: The thought of him fucking you until you forgot your name made you literally anxious (in a good way) and to see you this hungry for him drove the sheriff absolutely crazy, which made him rougher and it made you... It's like a vicious cycle.

Your hands are trembling as you devour each other against the door, a desperate need to fuck overcomes the both of you. It's as if, the seven deadly sins were demons and Lust had possessed the both of you. Bigby groans and bites your neck and for a moment you swear his fangs had grown sharper - it startles you and makes you moan.

"Lock the door," Bigby growls into the crook of your neck and drops you after you nod in his arms. You hear him clear his desk at the speed of light as you turn to lock the door, but before you can turn back around, he grabs your hips and places kisses along your shoulders. The heat radiating from your body makes him go, quite literally, feral.

"Up," He murmurs after he turns you around harshly and you don't waste a second to jump into his arms. He carries you to his desk with three steps and places you on the empty spot like a trophy. He admires you for a brief moment, admires how ruined you looked and grins to himself: It was all because of him.

You snap him back to reality when you grab his black tie and pull him towards you, placing him between your legs and kissing him. It's a lot more messy this time, all teeth and tongue as he tries to pull his erection out of his pants.

Just then, there's a knock on the door: "Bigby?"

Fuck.

"Bigby, are you alright?"

It's Snow White. The both of you go incredibly still and Bigby feels himself get soft at the sound of her voice.

"I'm busy, Snow!" He growls, angrier than before.

"Is everything okay? I heard a-"

"I'm on a call, can we talk later?" He speaks loudly and you bite your lip at how unfortunate you two are and to calm your breathing down.

"Okay, sorry," She sounds a little offended, but you could care less, because Bigby leans back and away from you after she returns to her office.

"Charming," You take a deep breath then stand up. Bigby looks a little embarrassed and you feel a little awkward, but immediately come up with a solution. Instead of speaking, you pull him back towards you, slowly, by his belt until your back hits the edge of the desk. He gives you a quizzical look, but you just smirk: "We're not done yet."

You keep eye contact when you drop onto your knees not a moment later, and he almost chokes at the sight. He lets you pull his cock out of his pants as he puts his hands on the desk to lean on for support. Your touch (and the view alone) is enough to make him go harder by the second and his knees buckle when you pump him a couple of times. If it were up to you, you wouldn't rush it and take proper care of him, make him sing for you- coax it out of him rather than rush him, but the sheriff was impatient at the moment- and so were you.

A broken moan leaves his lips when you place a kiss on the tip of his cock and take him in your mouth right after. You see him struggling to stand still and his eyes close as you start to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking more of him with each move forward. You moan around him at how big he felt inside your mouth- not that it was a new feeling or anything, but his cock was a delight anywhere inside you; especially when he hits the back of your throat, just like he did now.

An animalistic growl escapes him, a bit louder than he likes, when he sees just how much of his length you took in your mouth and his hands find themselves in your hair. You grab the sides of his thighs and tap them, signalling him to start moving and let him fuck your mouth. You hear him groan at the feeling, which makes you moan and dip a hand into your underwear to touch yourself. His pace is rough and fast, but the doesn't go too deep for a while and enjoys the feeling without literally choking you.

"Fuck," He grunts out when he hits the back of your throat again and sees his cock completely disappear into your mouth. When you gag, he pulls out to let you breathe, a thin line of saliva connects the tip of his rock hard cock and your parted lips. There are tears at the corners of your eyes, but by god it's so worth it. You retreat your hand from your underwear and smirk at him at the best of your ability while breathing heavily.

"Up," Bigby growls and picks you up from on your knees and sits you on the edge of the desk again. He places himself between your legs, removes your underwear to the side and impatiently (but carefully) inserts a finger inside you.

A trembling gasp falls from your lips as you watch a second finger join the other not long after. You want to tell him that you didn't need him to stretch your walls, so you try: "Bigby, please, I need your-"

"Trust me, sweetheart," But he interrupts, looks into your eyes and stops his movements. "You're gonna need this."

You swear his eyes glow yellow for a moment, but before you can look deeper you throw your head back when you feel a third finger inside you: "F-Fuck!"

"Shh," Bigby smirks and kisses your neck. "You want Snow to hear what we're up to?"

Maybe, you think, but the word gets mashed up and leaves your lips as a shallow moan instead when he does come hither motions with his fingers. You tense around him and the sweet smell of your juices drives him absolutely mad.

That's when he had to pull out, because his claws are out, his fangs and yellow eyes are glowing and you whine at the contact loss. He lines himself by your entrance and whispers against your burning cheeks: "You let me know if anything hurts, okay?"

You quickly shake your head and unintentionally hold your breath, but immediately let it go as soon as he pushes into you.

He's big. Bigger.

"Fuck," You choke out and bite his shoulder through his shirt. He goes still for a moment and allows you to adjust to... a new experience.

"Shit..." He growls and immediately gets rid of his shirt. A round of teeth marks appear on his skin, he looks at it and smirks as you try desperately to not come and make it last a while. Your hands instinctively reach for his hairy chest and connect behind his back. He holds you close by your hips and pushes a little further: "You're so tight, sweetheart..."

You can only moan in his hear, the stretch bringing new forms of pleasure and pain to you, making you dizzy. Suddenly, you move yourself forward and sit yourself on the edge of his desk and completely take in his cock, letting out a cry.

"We should've gone to your place," Bigby breathes and chuckles darkly, then proceeds to fuck you.

You want to reply, but (you guessed it) you can't; you rest your head on his shoulder, ready to bite down in case you got too loud. With your hands and legs wrapped around his back, you let yourself relax in his grip and let him reach deeper into you. You could technically let yourself go completely and he'd still hold you upright, thanks to his hard grip on your shoulder and waist.

Your moans become more frequent and high pitched and his pace is a little out of rhythm, but he's absolutely ruining you.

"Oh Bigby," You whimper, letting him know that you're about to cum.

He's lost, completely, between your moans, heat and trembling legs. Neither of you realise his claws beginning to break through the skin a little, but when he does he immediately switches the place of his hands to the backs of your shoulders. He partly lays you down on the desk and bends himself over as he drives into you, the new angle making him let out a gruttal growl and you lose it. You have to bite on his shoulder again to keep you from crying out as you come undone- A sound so divine and loud (although muffled), it drives Bigby over the edge as well, making him bite you in the neck in return.

Your legs tremble as he empties his seed in you, his cock reaching the deepest parts of your insides and giving you the pleasure of your life.

"H-ah, fuck," You breathe out when he pulls back both from your neck and inside you. He immediately checks for marks and you can see a guilt ridden expression spreading across his face as he calms down.

"You... I'm sorry-"

"Bigby," You interrupt him with a snarky smile, matching with your (literally) fucked state. "I asked for it and you gave it to me. No need for apologies." He still can't help but worry and run his thumb gently across the bite mark on yout neck: "It'll heal by next day."

"Good thing we're fables, huh?" He sighs and you nod as you readjust your underwear and dress, then get off the table with shaky legs which almost makes you fall, but Bigby catches you gently.

"Let's take this back to my place now, hm?" You chuckle against his neck and place a small kiss there.

Reassured, he picks you up bridal style and offers you a small grin: "Agreed."

A second round hadn't crossed your mind while you were going up to your apartment.

He gently sat you down on your bed and asked you if you needed anything. You decided to take a look at his wounds from earlier today, so you sat there and studied the bruises on his knuckles and lips, while his seed continued to make a mess of your panties.

"You wanna stay over, or...?" You offered as he came out of the bathroom and, after taking his clothes of, joined you in bed.

"Let's get rid of this, hm?" He said and helped you out of your dress. It wasn't an intimate moment, per se, but you couldn't help but feel shy when he took your dress off- he hadn't even spared a look anywhere other than your face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, noticing you shying away, still keeping his eyes on yours.

"Nothing," You smiled softly when you realised this and let him help you with your panties.

When he took them off, however, he couldn't help but look down at the mix of cum leaking from your pussy; it made his breath hitch and you bite your lip. He gave you a look- the look...

... and that's how you ended up face down on the bed with Bigby right above you, pounding into your pussy. Your knees were holding your lower half up, while your arms were under your pillow and your face was resting, or rather, buried in it. Bigby's claws made their presence known around your hips and waist, then one hand reaches into the back of your neck and firmly holds it, pressing you down more. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, moaning at the pleasure- pure pleasue. The sounds in your room are just a mess of skin slapping  against skin, the occasional creaking of the bed and your constant moaning mixed with his.

He's close and so are you, you've had your relationship going on for long enough to understand when he's going to cum and vice versa, his pace becomes faster than you thought possible and you clench down on him. He sneaks his arm under your chest and pulls you up against him, on all fours. You're holding yourself up by the underside of your forearm and hand, while one of his hands grabs at your breast and squeezes it as he lets out yet another growl.

"Ah- Bigby," You breathe out and hold onto his arm across your chest. He inhales your scent deeply and with sounds close to brief shouts, he finally comes, once more, inside you. He sees the stars when he does and it triggers your second orgasm.

An earth shattering experience to say the least.

You both collapse to the left in a spooning position, breathing hard. He gently pulls out of you while holding you close: "Fuck..."

"Indeed," You chuckle, mind hazy with the aftershock and eyes closed, calmly resting in his embrace. Once he manages to recollect himself, which is a few long minutes later, he immediately starts searching your body for the marks he left. "Bigby, I told you it's fine-"

He simply ignores you and continues feeling guilty as he stares at them: "I... I'm really-"

"If you say I'm sorry one more time, I'll kick your ass," You smirk, looking at him with lazy eyes. You're too content -satisfied and utterly fucked- to move, the heat making it easier for you to fall asleep: "Sheriff or not."

He smiles at you fondly and kisses your shoulder- he seems more at ease: "Okay... Let me clean you up, then."

You hum, agreeing and letting him slip off the bed. Nothing seems to be significantly important to you at that moment. Perhaps tomorrow, things will go back to being difficult, but at that moment, it was just you and Bigby.

He comes back with a warm, wet towel and proceeds to clean your inner thighs. The sight made him feel a couple of things at once: A type of warmth, not caused solely by lust but the type that painted his cheeks red with... fondness? Sincerity? Something much more?

He didn't want to think or talk about it, even though the former was a bit impossible as he was cleaning and admiring your ruined state with an unintentional sprinkle of guilt. He then starts cleaning the small amount of blood that drew and you let him, not without adding: "If you feel that bad, you can make it up to me by coming here..."

He watches you pat the empty spot he was lying on moments ago and he complies, drops the towel on your nightstand after he's finished cleaning you and crawls under the sheets.

You slowly turn around and place your half asleep form on his broad chest, spreading an arm across it and lay your head on where his arm and body meet, dozing off as soon as you felt one of his arms around your waist and the other on your hand.

Sleep quickly catches up with Bigby too and his eyelids slowly start to close, his nose against your hair and an extreme comfort surrounding him because of your presence; right before he closes his eyes, his own thoughts echo in his mind: We didn't agree to catch feelings...

Oh, no.

[rotshop]

*slams into your inbox* I just read through mag reader and Deimos headcanons again and I love it. I would def be interested in seeing more! (Also are you sure you don’t wanna hold his hand? Even just a little?) -Echo

gonna do a funney little mix of ideas here ,,,,, lol ,,,,,,,, also yes i am sure <333 i go 'hey check out this funny fish' and then i hold his head underwater.

[ tw brief, light violence, body horror and gore / blood ]

context

auditor + mag s/o ;

-OK OK HEAR ME OUT .

-you weren't originally an aahw project. while they're definitely the biggest company of sorts around there's still a few others that are like them but not exactly them hanging around nevada. you happened to be in some facility they decided to raid due to them having some possibly useful information regarding the anti-aahw . she's definitely a little less than enthused to get a call from her agents that she should come check this out but ,, when she lays her eyes on u that immediately melts away

-he's VERY very curious about you. keeps you close which is kind of nice bc it means you're treated pretty well but also it means a lot of being watched. audi just has like. a habit of unconsciously ''''''''studying'''''''' you. they're always noting little behaviors of yours down mentally and asking you little questions abut how you came to be and what abilities you hold.

-believe it or not he actually DOESN'T want you in fights. she knows you're incredibly capable but the thought of you getting too involved in a bunch of clawing and tearing again makes her get uneasy. she just prefers for you to stay by her side, with the excuse that you're a body guard of sorts for her (you aren't, she's got several other, more disposable mags that serve that role just fine.).

-HOWEVER. there is one time where he doesn't get an option in that. a few contractees and dissenters attempted a raid on the base audi was at, hoping to try and get some sort of bargaining chip to make deal with. before they can even really attempt to try and land some sort of hit on them you're already pouncing on the nearest grunt, blood already spurting and painting the walls red in mere seconds of your arrival. it honest to god shocks her into stillness, her just watching motionlessly the entire time, only really moving once to dodge some limb you'd mindlessly thrown her way after tearing it from its socket. WHILE SHE IS IMPRESSED ,,, she still scolds you a little for being reckless while trying to scrub the blood off of you with a wet rag, huffing that 'you could've gotten seriously hurt' if you were any less careful >:/

-however he does do the thng where he like. cups both sides of your face and then presses his forehead against yours. you have to lean down a lot for him to do so but still. sighs a little while brushing his thumb under your eyes and tells you to be more careful from now on.

-auditor is not immune to favoritism and it shows. someone brings it up (shakily, of course) and she just shrugs and goes 'idk what you're talking abt' while petting you who's got your head on her lap. said person promptly gets 'dismissed' after.

-hates whenever anyone tries to put some kind of muzzle on you, even if its just for the jaw dislocation thingy it still makes him go kind of '>:|' . he'll let them for like. a day at MOST (unless you keep trying to get it off, then chances are he's just gonna take it off for you. nobody really bothers asking / trying to get it back on you bc he just sends them a sharp little glare before they even can. if you REALLY need it that bad then he might try and convince you to keep it on a little longer or otherwise take your mind of it, he still feels really bad about it tho . )

sanford + mag s/o ;

- :)

-you two knew each other before he dissented / you became a mag. worked pretty close together and were just close in general !! you didn't know dei super super well since he worked in a different area but you two met a few times and hit it off pretty well.

-anyway ! he doesn't take your magnification well. at all. the first few times he saw you after it were the worst, mostly because those few times were primarily because you were lashing out at agents for one reason or another (mostly maltreatment from guards / people being shitty in general) . for the first while its so obvious that you're just exhausted from what's happened to your body that was NOT meant to become this, that you're tired and on edge from not being allowed any real rest. it makes him feel fucking terrible to see how awful of a state you're in and know that there's next to nothing he can really do to help.

-it especially hits him when he notices the other little changes. there's some specific moment where he's holding onto you far too tightly, clutching at the back of your jacket while he does his best to keep composed. you always had this habit of giving a half jokey hum of some stupid little joke or even just a 'what's wrong, big guy?' whenever he seemed off or tense, he can't help but make note of the lack of real response from you in the moment other than you wrapping your arms around him as well. another time, maybe he tries to make some little inside joke after something reminded him of it, looking back at you with a little smile. it hits him with a special punch to the gut when he notices your confusion, you just can't recognize it. you don't remember it anymore. you don't remember a lot of your old self or interactions anymore.

-you two end up getting split up at one point or another. orginally, he'd planned to run away with you and deimos buut,,, one way or another, you weren't really able to get out. he goes looking for you a bunch but eventually he has to stop when it gets to be too much and he can't find any real sign of you, he's quiet for a long time after it.

-HOWEVER . he does eventually find you in some abandoned warehouse him and the others had planned to look for supplies in. the entire time he's in there he keeps hearing sounds he thinks are just dei or hank but every time he asks or comments on it they just give him a look of confusion or a little 'what are you talking about?' it puts him really on edge, it's worse when he's in one of the further corners, digging through a few boxes and desperately trying to ignore how much it feels like someones there. anyway umm lol its just you ,,,, ehe . it takes him a solid minute to process that its you but as soon as it clicks he's yelling your name and running up to hug you. doesn't even stop to think that you could totally tear him a new one right then and there he's just too happy to see you. dei and hank both come rushing over after hearing him, dei recognizes you too and is just kinda 'oh hey !! friend !! :D' while hank stands there and just kinda stares.

-is able to take you back to base without too much argument from the others. he does his best to fill you in on everything that's happened in hopes you'll explained what happened on your part too. even if you don't he can't be too upset since he's just too gd happy to see you again ,,,, chances are you stick around him a lot . deimos is nice but u don't remember him super well and hank makes you uneasy lmao . its ok he thinks its funny though, just laughs a little whenever you stand in his doorway in silence until he notices you :)

[dc41896]

Penny for Your Thoughts (2)

Pairing: QB!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: You definitely didn’t expect your first date to be so hectic, yet so perfect

⚠️: None just fluff💕

The weekend of a home game always seemed to have the city in more of a buzz than normal. Everyone rushing from store to store trying to get everything they’d need for watch parties and tailgating. Streets holding more cars from those who followed the visiting team to physically show their support.

And if said game resulted in a win, the energy only intensified as those invested seemed to sport brighter smiles. It even made complete strangers high-five after raving how no team could do it better. That was the current state surrounding you now after Boston College’s 24-12 comeback victory.

Since entering the dimly lit restaurant, all eyes were stuck to the two of you. Well mostly Chris, but you also received glances from those nosy enough to wonder who you were to him, and the occasional eye roll from the girls wishing they were the ones being led by his large hand to the table. He warned you ahead of time that this would probably happen and apologized in advance, but you understood it just came with the territory.

His eyes lift from scanning his menu to watch you studying yours as you toyed with the gold banded ring on your index finger. You already made his chest warm just from the slightest glimpse of you, but your face illuminated by the small lamp on the table had a soft smile spreading across his lips feeling as if you were the only two in the room.

“See anything you like?,” he asked, solid body leaning forward as his hands nervously rubbed together under the table and it’s pristine, white table cloth.

“Everything sounds so good, but I think I’ll just stick with a salad or something.”

“You sure? Get anything you want, it’s my treat. Plus I still owe you a celebration for acing your exam.”

Your face brightens at the reference to the conversation you had last month. That’s when your date was supposed to happen originally, but with you being so stressed about passing, you both agreed that it’d probably be best to try again later.

“We’ll go the next time we’re both free. That way we can celebrate.”

“Celebrate what exactly?,” you giggled, phone pressed against your ear as you scribbled more notes at your desk.

“You passing, duh.”

“Thanks for the confidence, but let’s not call it so early.”

Sure enough, he predicted right.

“You remembered,” you smiled.

“Of course I did, why would I forget?,” he asks. Fingertips finding your knee to graze against your soft skin making your cheeks warm.

“Well in that case, I’ll have the lobster, steak, and I’ll go ahead and put in my dessert order,” you joke flashing your most innocent smile.

“It’s up to you cutie.” You both laugh, but yours is a bit shorter lived at the reveal of his apparent nickname for you. From the way he carried on as if nothing happened, briefly checking his vibrating phone, you didn’t know if it was an accidental slip of the tongue or him being comfortable enough to say it in front of you.

Either way, your heart fluttered at the sentiment and how it sounded off his tongue.

“Excuse me,” a thick, Boston accent interrupts slightly startling both of you. “I hate to cut in, but I just wanted to say that game was incredible!”

“Oh um thanks man,” he politely smiles.

“I’ve been watching since I was a boy, and I can truly say you got something special kid. Like with that trick play to put us in the lead?! Phenomenal! No way you’re not going in the first round. Speaking of, you got any teams in mind? I know you gotta be eyeing the Pats!”

“I uh really appreciate the kind words, but I’m kinda in the middle of something,” Chris replies motioning between the both of you with his finger. From the look in his eyes, hoping that the middle aged man would get the hint.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he replies holding up his hands as he takes a step back. “You kids have a good time, and you keep throwing those touchdowns.” With a final wave and pat of his shoulder, Chris waits until the fan is definitely gone before apologizing to you with sympathetic eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay. They’re excited to see you.”

“This is our time though, and I want all my focus going to you.”

“Aww, that’s very-,”

“Hi! Sorry, but you’re the quarterback for BC right?!,” the excited lady asks holding the hand of her small son probably around eight or nine. Before answering, he looks to you seemingly asking you for permission, and although you knew he’d respectfully turn them away explaining how he’d be sure to find them later if you gave the right signal, you didn’t want to be the one getting in the way of him and his fans. Especially when they were little kids.

Gently nodding your head with a small smile, he quickly mouths “sorry” before turning his attention back to the mom and son, giving the awestruck boy a high five at his mentioning of how he has Chris’ jersey at home. At the mother’s asking, you took pictures of the three of them before she was heading back to the table with the little boy still smiling like the Cheshire Cat looking down at his favorite college quarterback’s autograph and small personalized message on the napkin in his hands.

“Now, where were we?,” he asks settling back in his seat, taking a drink from his glass of water. You don’t get the chance to answer, hearing a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor coming closer to your table. The head of red hair with perfect beach waves cascading down to her shoulders has a satisfied smirk on her pink, glossed lips as she finally reaches the two of you, more so focused on Chris.

“Well isn’t this a sight for sore eyes. Then again I probably shouldn’t be surprised seeing you here at our place.”

Actually, it wasn’t. They only came there once and she was solely preoccupied with making sure all her followers knew she was being spoiled at a fancy restaurant while they weren’t. Chris didn’t even remember getting a word in that night, having to listen to her boast about all the people who would be jealous of her if they already weren’t.

Finally setting her crystalline, blue eyes on you, you see right through the sweet facade as she sticks out her hand. Almond shaped nails freshly manicured a sparkly light blue color. “Where are my manners, I’m Kelly. I’m sure you’ve heard about me before.”

“Not really, no,” you answer shaking her hand and making her smirk falter. “That’s a pretty dress though.”

“Thanks,” she dryly replies pulling her hand back to her side.

“Babe, our table’s ready.”

A man built similar to Chris and around your age with black hair and hazel eyes lightly grazes her arm to get her attention, clearly not wanting to completely be shown to the table as he stayed behind her. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out he was the guy she cheated with and was too guilty to face his teammate.

Well, soon to be former from the rumblings at the game of those who were in the know with the dealings of the players.

“You two enjoy your dinner,” Chris speaks finding your hand across the table and enclosing it with his warm one. This simple movement nearly had Kelly combust seeing him moved on with someone else, while you began to wonder even more about his true intentions.

“Yea, y-you too,” the unnamed man quickly replies pulling his speechless date with him, who had yet to look away from you until he physically turned her around.

“Hey why don’t we get out of here? It’s hard to have you to myself with everyone interrupting,” Chris suggests with a gentle smile.

“Um yea, sure. Lead the way.”

———

15 or 20 minutes of driving around the city, and you ended up on campus in the more secluded part of the grounds. Then again, with it being Saturday night every part was pretty much secluded now.

The gazebo brightly adorned with bulb fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and around the pillars was a popular spot for graduation and wedding photos, as well as other couples looking for a calmer space without having to go too far. And although a beautiful and romantic scene, Chris desperately wished he could’ve found someplace better to take you.

“You okay?,” he nervously asks settling on the blanket he placed on the wooden floorboards so your clothes wouldn’t pick up any dirt or dust. “If you want to go somewhere else, I can-,”

“No no, this is perfect,” you smile, but not fully convincing Chris from how minimal you talked on the ride over.

“You’re not just sparing my feelings are you?” His suspicious expression and tilted head has you giggling as you take a sip of your water, feeling a bit more relaxed.

“No I just…after seeing your ex I guess I started wondering….”

“About what?”

“…your intentions,” you reveal, more focused on bending your straw back and forth rather than meeting his eyes that were probably peering at you like you were crazy bringing up the ‘what are we?’ conversation so early. “And where you wanted this to go?”

“Well this definitely isn’t a rebound if that’s what you’re thinking,” he answers sipping from his lemonade. Yes, you were thinking that. Had been since you guys started talking in fact. Then with him grabbing your hand at the table in front of Kelly, you didn’t know if the action was sincere or you just being a pawn in the midst of their game of who could make the other more jealous.

“So you think you’re completely moved on from her? And ready to date again?”

“I’ll be honest, when we first met I was still hurt and sulking as you could tell,” he briefly chuckles, “but the more we talked and hung out, I got over it and wanted to move on with someone who made me happy. Someone like you.”

Feeling him slide closer placing his hand on top of yours, your entire body heats up as his stubbled face feels like it’s mere inches from yours.

“So to answer your question, yes I’m ready and if it’s okay with you, I want to see how far this goes.”

Your soft smile as you close the remaining gap connecting your peach flavored lips with his makes him grin against your mouth happily accepting your answer. “I’ll take that as a yes, but if it’s not this is the greatest rejection I’ve ever gotten,” he speaks between pecks and occasional lip bites.

“You’re such a dork.”

His palm cradles the side of your face, thumb carefully gliding against your cheek and noses gently bumping each other not caring if he had to breathe. He just wanted to stay pressed to you.

A bright light shining in his eye, though, momentarily interrupts your intimate moment nearly making him groan out in annoyance how tonight just wasn’t the night for privacy.

“Alright guys I know you’re probably just enjoying your date, but if you’re gonna do that you gotta go back to your roo- oh, hey champ!,” the bulky security guard greets finally turning off his handheld light. “Insane game tonight.”

“Thanks,” Chris sighs partially shielding you as he tried to discreetly wipe around his mouth for any traces of your lip balm.

“Well you two have a nice night, but remember no extra curriculars out in the open if you catch my drift.”

“Got it. Goodnight sir.” He sends the guard off with a small wave before you’re both laughing at the night you’ve had and your forehead falls to his shoulder.

“Next date, I’m taking you out the country.”

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[whumpasaurus101]

Five Past Three

Oki ik i said i was on a writing break but uhmmmmm feck that :) here is some Pheonix content BC THE POOR BEBE HAS BEEN NEGLECTED OMG!!! SO here is some backstory shenanigans that are sorta important to know heheh 👀

CW: drug use (not in too much detail but oc is high.) / i cant think of anything else BUT if i missed anything plz plz plzzzz lmk!!!!!

masterlist

Pheonix collapsed to the ground with a grunt. His whole body was tingling, almost numb. He felt as if everyone in the world was watching him. He lifted his head, no one.

The wind blew more, making Pheonix shiver.

He could still feel the pounding of the nightclub’s music in his head. Not the one he worked at, oh no no, he wouldn't get high at the place he worked at.

He scrambled in his pocket with numb fingers, trying his best to take out his phone. He tried to put in his passcode, 1-7-8-5, try again, 1-4-5-6, try again “FUCK!” Pheonix yelled, throwing his phone across the car park, hearing it crack against the concrete.

“Who’s there?” Came a voice. Pheonix curled up more in on himself. “Son, are you alright?” Phoenix's head snapped up to see an old man standing in front of him. His vision was shaking as he tried to focus in on the man. He could hear him talking but he couldn't understand! He sounded so far away, yet, he was just about a meter away.

“Hey -ah! Ya reak, boy! What did you take?!”

“Wh-what time is it?” Pheonix’s shaky voice asked. “It's five past three in the mornin’, lad. Now, are ya gonna answer my question?” Pheonix shook his head. No. To be fully honest, Pheonix didn’t know himself. He shouldn't have been so reckless! How did he even get in the carpark? He didn't remember walking here.

“This is dangerous! Someone coulda just picked you from the streets and- well, God knows what would happen! You're lucky I saw ya, lad.” His phone! That's what he was doing! “C-could you pass me my phone please, it-it's over there.” The man looked at him, confused at first before he saw the phone lying there. He strolled over and picked it up, studying the cracked screen.

The lock screen came on and the man could see some notifications. Ten missed calls from Sammy, a bunch of text messages from Sammy too and then just some regular notifications. “Well, it seems as if someone is worried about you, ya better call them back before they go absolutely mad lookin’ for ya, ay?”

Pheonix just held out his hand for the phone before asking again, “What time is it?” The man huffed, “Lad, you just asked, it's still five past three.” Pheonix’s eyebrows furrowed, “N-no, you told me that ages ago, th-the- I-”

“Shhh, it's alright, relax yourself.” He passed Pheonix’s phone over and pointed at the time, “See?” He asked in a gentle voice. Pheonix nodded as he saw the numbers through tear-filled eyes.

“I-I- yes, I’m sorry-” “Hey, no need. Now, how about you ring your friend there and we can sort out how we can get ya home. How does that sound?” Pheonix nodded as he tried to put in his passcode once more. His hands were shaking violently as his numb fingers attempted to key in the numbers. Please try again.

“Here, how about I’ll put it in for you and you can do the talking, aye?” Pheonix nodded, “The uh, the passcode is 1-4-5-2. The man put in the code and Pheonix’s phone unlocked. The man opened the phone app and pressed the contact ‘Sammy’. It only took one ring until Sammy’s desperate voice was heard, “Pheonix?!? Pheonix are you okay?! God I'm gonna kill you if I haven't already died from a heart attack!" Pheonix chuckled slowly, " ‘m okay Sammy. Well, kinda. Theres a uh,, a man with me.”

“WHAT?! PHEONIX PUT ME ON SPEAKER RIGHT NOW!”

“Ay, it's okay, he’s makin’ it sound a lot worse than it is,” The man chuckled. Pheonix laughed, almost falling from his sitting position. “It's alright, my name is Hudson Wheeler, I’ll share the location where we are now. I was walkin’ back to my car when I saw your friend here, someone must have roofied him.. Unless he took the drugs himself. Although, I haven't gotten much chat from him.”

Sammy’s breathing was heavy on the other line as he tried to decide whether to believe it. “Alright, alright, stay on the call and send me your location right now.” Hudson went into messages and selected the button to share the location, he waited for a moment before asking, “Have you got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Jesus Christ, Pheonix. Alright, how long can you stay with him for, Hudson?”

“As long as you need. You know, I can bring him anywhere if you need me to?”

“No, no, sorry, but no. I- I’ll collect him but it might take me a little while.”

“That's alright. No worries, I have all the time in the world.” Sammy let out a sigh of relief, “Uhm, thank you. Thanks for helping him and I’m sorry I was salty at the start. He’s just, well we've had some bad experiences when it comes to this stuff in the past.”

“Hey, it's all good! You're a great friend.”

“See you sooooon Ssssssammmmyyyyy,” Pheonix laughed.

“Mhm… see you soon.”

Sammy hung up and Hudson looked at Pheonix, shaking his head and chuckled.

Sammy rushed out to the driveway of their house and quickly hopped into his car, keys, wallet, water, phone. That's everything, they thought. They quickly turned on the engine and reversed out of the driveway. They pulled up a map on their phone and followed the directions that came up on the screen.

They put the volume of the radio on full volume and drove. He knew he was driving over the speed limit but he had to get to his friend. They had to. Their foot pressed down on the excelerator more than intended but they didn't notice.

They didn't notice until police sirens started to blare. “No! SHIT!” They slammed the steering wheel with all his force, making their palms turn red. They thought about just speeding and avoiding the police, but he had enough things that they could get caught for than that.

They growled and pulled over, running a hand through their hair. A policeman came over and tapped on the window. Sammy blew out a huff of air and pulled down the window, “Hey officer.”

The officer shone a flashlight into the car, making Sammy wince and cover their eyes. “HEY! Hands up slowly, no sudden movements.” “I'm s-sorry officer!”

“It's alright, now, do you know why I pulled you over?” The officer’s thick Southern accent spoke. “I'm sorry, I was going way above the speed limit, I just- I wasn't thinking, I just-” “Hey, hey, hey, no need to get wound up now alright?” Sammy nodded. “Alright, and where are you going to?”

Sammy thought for a moment, they couldn't give away too much. Pheonix had taken drugs. The last thing Sammy would want is their friend to get arrested!! “I uhm, I'm just going to pick up my friend.” “Mhmm, alright. Listen, you seem like a good person, although I am quite curious why you're out this late, but listen. Drive slower and focus, got it?” Sammy nodded quickly, “Y-yes officer, thank you so much officer, I promise it won’t happen again.” The police officer chuckled slightly, “It's alright, safe drive.” “You too.”

The officer patted the window and smiled and Sammy drove off. Slow, slow, easy, calm, relax. They looked to the map, fifteen minutes.

Hudson looked over to Pheonix who was now lying on the ground, eyes wide as he looked up at night sky. Tears streamed down his face. “Hey now, why are you crying?” Pheonix licked his dry lips and shrugged. He could see streaks of pink and green in the sky, he guessed Hudson couldn't see them.

Hudson dug into his backpack, “Ah, I knew I had it!” He took out a water bottle, “Here, sit up.” He supported Pheonix’s back and helped him sit up. He brought the water bottle to Pheonix’s lips and gently tipped the water.

Pheonix was fully leaning against Hudson for support. He gulped the water quickly and whined as Hudson took the bottle away. “Hey, I cant have ya gettin sick alright?” Pheonix whined but nodded. He then turned his body with a groan and cuddled into Hudson as he shivered.

Hudson sighed as he looked at Pheonix, “What are ya doin’ to yourself, lad?” He shielded his eyes as bright lights suddenly shone. “Looks like your friend is here. Hey, wake up.” Hudson slowly stood up, carrying Pheonix by the shoulders with him.

Sammy rushed out of their car and dashed over to Pheonix, “Oh my god, Pheonix, you idiot! Here, can you help me get him into the car please?” “Of course.”

The pair guided Pheonix to the backseat and laid him across the back. Sammy closed the door and sighed. Hudson gave him a sympathetic smile. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my pleasure. I would tell you ways to help him sober up, but I'm guessing this isn't your first rodeo,” He chuckled slightly.

Sammy huffed, “No, can't say it is. But seriously, thank you. Listen, this is all I got but please take it,” Sammy handed a fifty dollar bill to Hudson. “No, hey, that's not necessary at all!”

“No, no, please take it.”

Hudson sighed and took it, “Thank you.”

“Can I give you a lift back home at all?” Hudson smiled, “Oh that's so kind, my car is actually only five minutes away but thank you.”

“Of course -no of course.”

“Well, you better get that laddo home, hm?” “Yes, yes. Thank you.”

Sammy got back into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. They looked in the mirror and saw Pheonix asleep. They smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. No, no, get home and then sleep. They widened his eyes and put their hands back on the steering wheel.

The drive home was fine. Sammy didn't play the radio to ensure Pheonix could rest. They kept at the right speed too, they couldn't get pulled over again. They yawned and blinked hard for a few moments.

Once the car pulled into the driveway, Sammy helped Pheonix into their house. Pheonix groaned but Sammy ignored him, “Hey, none of that now. Cmon, let's get you to your room.”

They tucked Pheonix into the guest room’s bed and left a basin on the ground just incase. “Rest up,” they whispered. “G’niiiiiiiiiight,” Pheonix chuckled.

---

taglist: @as-a-matter-of-whump @jordanstrophe @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @kixngiggles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @happy-whumper @thelazywitchphotographer

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt2

A/N - here’s part two to my little prequels - it’s the last one I’ve got written, but just know that they definitely fall in love later in my head. It’s just that the ‘in love’ part turned into Friendliness so there’s that. Thanks for sticking around bc y’all make my days

Summary - A certain professor makes another unexpected appearance and friend? 

W/C - 2.6k 

Warnings - there’s a brief stint of depression and a bit of swearing i’m sure (but what’s new)

----

Nearly 50 hours of no sleep later and Spencer Reid is sure he’s hallucinating. He knows that the hallucinations come later, that it takes more like seven or eight days to get that bad. But he’s tired and hadn’t slept on the plane and there’s no amount of coffee that’ll convince him he’s awake enough to think the scene in front of him is real. 

Because there you are, arguing with an FBI agent. While in handcuffs. He notes the darker hair and the new style and the impossible amount of dirt you’re covered in. What a weird thing to hallucinate after a bone chilling case. He hasn’t seen you in three years—by all accounts, he should’ve forgotten your face already. 

“I heard she got caught shipping body parts,” Emily says, appearing next to Spencer. She’s more put together, having passed out for the four hour flight. Her hair’s tied up and she’s got airplane coffee in her hands. He wonders if this is any more real before he hears you shouting from him. 

“Thank God,” you call, trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold, “Dr. Reid! Tell them I’m not crazy.”

He hesitantly leans over to Emily. “This is real, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I?”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Emily.”

“See you then, Reid.”

And he’s trudging forward, waving at the other agent while stifling a yawn. He forces his eyes open and checks his watch. 2:37 AM. Is he going to catch the Metro? Or is he sleeping on Hotch’s couch again? 

The pleading in your eyes says Hotch’s couch and he doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Kazinsky,” he yawns, stopping a full two feet from you and your inhumanly large captor. “What’s the—what’s the charge?”

Kazinsky shakes his head, not daring to let you any slack. You’re bouncing on your toes, trying to contain yourself. He gets it. It’s not everyday you get arrested. He hopes. But ever forgetful of the whole being arrested bit, you keep jerking to move the hair out of your face. Kazinsky takes it as trying to escape and jerks back harder. 

“We picked this one up for transporting illegal…stuff, Doc,” Kazinsky mutters with half a shiver. “Thought I signed up for white collar, mail fraud type stuff. Not unpacking human remains type stuff.” 

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. Scrubs his hands over his face. Takes one more long look at you, obviously losing your mind. He knows a lot can change over three years, but you never seemed the ‘illegally transporting dead people’ type. Until he remembers your fun fact from that lecture all those years ago. 

“What happened?” he sighs.

All too tired for this bullshit, he wishes he could force the story out faster, but your face just keeps contorting with the story you’re so obviously trying to spin for both of them. You try to pull out of Kazinsky’s gorilla grip again, and Spencer notices the way Kazinsky winces every time you pull. Something wrong with his wrist?

“Dr. Reid,” you finally begin, “I was in Guatemala, studying these mummies we found in a cave. One of the bodies just needed further examining and so I was just shipping it back because it’s not like I can stuff a two thousand year old body in my carryon.”

All Spencer can do is raise half an exhausted eyebrow that prompts you further, red tinting your cheeks. 

“Look, I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Man Hands over here that I’ve got the paperwork in my bag, but after our little disagreement, I’ve been arrested.”

“Disagreement?” Kazinsky snorts. “You tried to dislocate my wrist!”

“Well, I can’t help it if you don’t announce yourself before grabbing me.”

Whatever desperation and pleading you’ve had, you’ve thrown out the window to stare down Kazinsky. Spencer has a new appreciation for the fact that he’d been wrong all those years ago. You aren’t fragile. You’re as strong as a femur bone with all of the—probably justified—anger of a bull towards a matador. 

But you turn back to Spencer and your gaze softens. Melts into the young professor he met all those years ago. He’s gotten over his crush—he’s definitely in love with Maeve—but you’re objectively beautiful. Despite the self-cut, terribly choppy bangs, or the light dusting of brown dirt that you’ve covered in. You’re pleading for his help, he knows it, but he just wants to go home. 

He’s reminded he’s better than walking away and ends up giving Kazinsky a tired sigh. “I’ll take her off your hands for you, Kazinsky.”

He wonders vaguely what Maeve will think of this when he calls her in 24 hours. He wonders if she’ll appreciate the gesture he’s made for an old acquaintance. No matter what though, he knows she’ll gasp and giggle and say something like ‘oh those anthropologists! Such a funny sort. At least it’s a better science than geology!’ and they’ll laugh together like old lovers. 

Kazinsky drops you in Spencer’s lap and runs. Human remains could be the BAU’s problem for all he cared. He liked mail fraud. 

Once Kazinsky’s out of sight, Spencer pulls the handcuff keys from his pockets and pulls the cuffs off of you. You breathe out a thankful sigh, trying to rub the future bruises away. You turn back to face him, tucking your hair back behind your ear, studying him through your lashes. He can’t be bothered to notice anything much more about you. He’s dead on his feet. 

The hand you place on his elbow jolts him away. Your eyebrows scrunch and he swallows at the concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m just—we’ve been working an abduction case. 48 hours non-stop—“

He yawns again and you can’t help but mirror. “Did you know that chimpanzees and dogs are also empathetic yawners?” 

He smirks. “I did know that. Seriously though y/n, what’s up with the body?”

“I promise it isn’t illegal,” you rush out, just to receive a raised eyebrow. “The Institute I’m working for made some kind of deal with the Guatemalan government that I’m not really privy to, but I’m the only one qualified to handle the remains. Plus, I’ve got a reputation for being found with body parts so its—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He sighs again. He wants to tell you it sounds worse. That it sounds like you’re stealing on behalf of the Institute. That they’re doing what museums always do—pilfer and loot. But you sigh and hang your head and don’t exhibit one sign that you’re trying to trick him. Sure, you might’ve lied a bit about manhandling Kazinsky, but you sure as hell seem like a doctor just trying to do her job. 

“Look, call my boss. He’s waiting for me anyway. I’m sure the paperwork just got lost or customs is just as stupid as I think they are.”

Spencer nods. He pulls his phone out and punches in the number you rattle off. In ten seconds he’s speaking with Dr. Russel Bailey, head of the anthropology department at the Institute. There’s a quick relay of ‘yes, she’s authorised to have the body’ and ‘no, please don’t arrest her’ and ‘we’ll sort this out in the morning’. 

And once he’s hung up, you’ve already got your car keys out. “Do you need a ride home or anything?” you ask and quickly tack on, “I’m just trying to say thank you. Promise I’m not creepy.”

Spencer laughs and nods and drags his feet after you. He does need a ride home because he knows he’ll fall asleep on the metro. You talk incessantly about your trip to Guatemala on the walk down to your car, and he knows he should be listening. But he can’t. He’s too busy moving one foot in front of the other. 

And by the time you’ve punched his address into the GPS, he’s fast asleep, softly snoring. 

#

Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. 

Nothing else really matters now, Spencer thinks on repeat. She was the only good thing I had and now she’s gone. Maybe I don’t even matter. 

There’s brief moments between this line of thinking where he can listen to the three dozen voicemails he gets left everyday. Telling him that they’re there for him. Telling him it’ll be okay. Telling him it was okay to grieve. 

Was it grieving if he just wants to melt into nothingness? To die without actually killing himself?

It’s during one of these brief moments that he gets the voicemail he’s accidentally been craving. He doesn’t want to want it. He doesn’t want to want anything. He wants to melt and starve and wither until no one thinks about him ever again. Because she’s not here and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he wants you. 

You’ve been gone. Researching your way through the Sacred Valley in Peru, making nice with the locals and scavenging bones like an angelic vulture. You’ve been there for the last month and can’t possibly know about Maeve’s death—it takes him another hour to get back to thinking about you. It’s still September, he thinks, and you’re supposed to come back around now. At the end of the month, he’s supposed to pick you up from the airport. 

Because after saving you from an arrest, you’ve been exchanging noncommittal letters and phone calls. He’s got a thin stack of photos that you’ve sent from your trip. But you aren’t Maeve. You never were. You never will be. 

He doesn’t know why he wants you to call him, but he does. 

Maybe it’s because you’re new, you aren’t tarnished by the history of Spencer Reid. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat him like he’s labelled: fragile, handle with care!

He listens and your voicemail is a sort of sing song. “Hola Spencer! I’m calling from some Peruvian payphone. I should be in the states in a little over 24 hours. I’ll call when I land. Hasta mañana.” 

 The next voicemail comes with: “Finally got back to the apartment. I didn’t think I’d miss the sound of guinea pigs running around. Weird. Anyway, call me when you can.”

And the third: “Spencer, seriously, why aren’t you picking up? I’m not going to have to break in, am I? Call me back.”

Culminating with: “Reid, I swear to fucking god. If I find you dead in that goddamn apartment, I’ll beat your body so bad you won’t make it the fucking afterlife.”

There’s a knock. One he won’t answer. One he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want the pity or the advice or the dejectedness. He wants to float down a river and drown. 

The knock becomes a little more insistent. And now there’s voices attached. He can make out JJ’s voice, “He’s—he’s going to be okay. He’ll come back out when he’s ready.” Following is who he thinks is Penelope, though if it is, she’s far too quiet. One set of feet retreat. He can see the shadow from a pair of shoes and he wonders why Penelope is staying so long. Maybe she’s brought another basket. 

There’s one more knock—probably to ensure he’s not coming to the door—before a jiggle to the knob. And swearing. And jostling. And squirming. And pop. There’s a distinct swinging open of the door and a pair of boots tapping over his hardwood. 

Maybe this is how he dies. Miserable. Covered in snot and tears. Slippers half on. Depressed on the couch. 

“God, you idiot,” a voice breathes, pausing to take in the disarray. He vaguely remembers redecorating—throwing everything everywhere. The feet become more impatient and frantic and heavier. His doors all open and close and he can’t bother to correct the burglar. He’s right here, waiting, patiently waiting, for this intruder to kill him. 

A fantastic way to die. He wonders if you’ll want to look at his bones. You’ve mentioned wanting to. 

“Sound off, Reid,” you command. He knows its you. No one else could replicate that tremble in your lips, the break rolling off your tongue. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and he wonders how long ago was the last time he spoke. 

Light streams in as you flick open the curtains, bites into his skin with a hiss. You take in his disheveled state with no apprehension. Like you’ve expected this. Like you have no pity to give him. Maybe this is why he wanted you to call. 

“You broke in,” he mumbles and you shake your head. 

“I wouldn’t have to,” you begin to yell, just to lower your voice and grit your teeth, “if you would’ve fucking answered the door.” 

You always say there’s a time and place for everything. There’s nothing to top the word ‘fuck’ and he knows that you’re beyond angry. Beyond concerned. Beyond terrified for him. 

“What happened, Spencer?” you whisper, moving to sit down on the floor in front of him. You’re close enough he can smell your perfume, see the pleading look in your eyes. There’s no pity. If he could find the words, he couldn’t thank you enough. 

He could reach out and hold your hand, but that seems too far. Too much. So he swallows down the tears and whispers back, “Maeve died, y/n. She died because I let her.”

“Stop it,” you order. You’ve got a hard set in your eyes, the kind that he last saw when you stared down Kazinsky. “Stop that right now. You can’t stop the world from spinning, Spencer. You can’t stop the sun from coming up. You can’t stop what you don’t know to. I might not know all the details, but I know you. You’re a diligent man and I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than everything for the woman you love.”

You place a delicate hand on the couch next to his and you sum everything up very gracefully. “Hindsight is a bitch, don’t let it make you hers.”

He can’t stop the twitch of a smile. Can’t stop the crack of happiness that bleeds out because you’ve decided to be so ridiculously you. No one’s ever called him diligent before and seems more fitting than fragile.

“She’s still dead,” he settles on and makes the bold move to slide his fingers under yours. It feels like such a betrayal to Maeve—is he supposed to touch another woman when he couldn’t even touch the love of his life?

You just squeeze his fingers, warm and present and decidedly alive. “Yeah. She is. You’re welcome to wallow for as long as you want, but you need to eat. We’ll see if I can remember how to cook with modern appliances.”

Your smile is contagious enough that a fleeting smile reaches his eyes. You pat his hand and stand. “I’m going to the store, and taking a key this time. I promise I’ll be back. I’m stickier than a public indecency charge.”

You chuckle for the both of them and carefully make your way out of the apartment. He listens as you take a key and tries his best to psych himself into a fit of hunger. It isn’t until you’re singing in Spanish, something sizzling on the stove, that he realises that the pain in his gut is the hunger, and not just misery. That he should probably get up for at least a minute. Just to satisfy the curiosity of what that smell is. 

Maeve would’ve liked you, he decides. Maeve would’ve really liked you. 

And it’s the first peaceful thought he’s had in weeks. 

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (4)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: a curse word if you squint, sassy Draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: a day late bc i got distracted watching game of thrones lmao i have adhd so i honestly should've known better than to have something so attention demanding in front of me :P

(gif cred)

Three more days.

Three more days until your brother and his girlfriend come to your Buffalo suburban home to spend Thanksgiving. You came home from work on a better day than the ones from the week before, only to walk inside and was almost convinced you entered the wrong house.

Your mother took the liberty of decorating your house while you were gone. The place looked like an IKEA catalogue. Green and cream colored throw pillows were on your black leather couch, your small dining table had a fall-themed centerpiece and a blood orange table cloth. New dining chairs, all of them matched, unlike the mismatched ones you had before. And that god-forsaken ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ wooden sign hung in your kitchen. That damn thing is leaving first thing in the morning.

“Ma, what the hell did you do to my house?” The more you looked, you groaned at what you saw. Your grandmother’s tapestry was no longer hanging at its original place, now hung hidden behind the tv. “Oh, don’t give me any grief about it. Y/B/N is coming and I don’t want the place looking like the Spirit store.”

You knew you couldn't really fight her on this. It would be more frustrating to have to argue and still not be able to put everything back to how it was until she left. Taking a deep breath, you walked yourself to your room to get changed into comfortable clothes and light some sage for your nerves.

Three more days.

—

One more week.

In a week's time, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were to come to New York to spend the month of December with Draco and to say he was excited was an understatement.

He was excited, nervous, and many other feelings that he was too stressed to name. The guest room was prepared for the two of them to share, all he had to do was figure out what to do with them while they were here. He had taken a week off and had no idea what to do. He still hadn’t gone around the city he lived in. He could always ask his friends at Saint Marie but for some reason, he was too shy to.

He could always ask Mrs. Charles for recommendations on what to do. She was a sweet muggle neighbor that he came to like as well as her husband. He could also ask you, but it’s been over a week since he spoke to you in your yards. From glimpses into your window, you seemed so exhausted. Not that he really cared, but he remembered that you would try to get along better and so far, all he’s done was give a nod towards your direction when he walked into his home as you were leaving yours.

His bedroom blinds were always closed now because he knew that if he were to see you doing your… whatever you do in your room just once, he’d change his mind about the whole thing. It still bothered him, but not as bad as it did when he first saw it.

Draco’s stomach growled as he sat on his couch, bringing him out of his thoughts and walked over to the kitchen. To his despair, his pantry, cabinets, and fridge were all empty. Guess I’ll have to grab something. He pondered on what he was in the mood for as he ran out the door. Draco figured he'd just figure it out as he drove around the streets downtown.

Since moving to America, he found so many new cuisines than he had ever imagined. He usually always ate at home, and if his family ever ate outside of home they usually went to the finest restaurants in France. Of course, they were all wizard-owned restaurants. But in New York, he’s been introduced to new things. For one, he had his first ever hamburger with Blaine. Ashley took him to a Chinese restaurant, and Ian bought Draco a traditional New York pizza.

Yes, all these things existed in London. Maybe not so much New York-style pizza, but there was pizza. Draco, however, never had the opportunity to try any of these foods. Lucius was extremely strict about eating out. It was never necessary considering he could afford the best quality foods to be made at home. When they did eat at restaurants in France, it was only because a higher official at the Ministry had invited them for a night out.

Around the streets, the bright lights of buildings and restaurants lit the streets as he drove around them. Draco turned into a street he hadn’t been into yet in hopes to find something else he could find to try. There were a couple places he hadn’t been into; a Greek restaurant, a Brazillian one, and a couple shops. There was one shop close to the end of the street. It was sandwiched between two boutiques and had a neon green and purple sign in the front. Soul Beads. In front of the building was a man with a weird sign in one hand and an even weirder thing that seemed to have made his voice louder in the other. Draco couldn’t make of the rubbish he was yelling into the thing from inside his car.

Draco pulled to the curb to walk around the street and check out the restaurants. A bell jingle caught his attention, turning around to see one person he didn’t really expect to see here. “Draco?” your face showed the same expression as his. He watched as you closed the door to Soul Beads and walked up to him. The weird man that stood in front of the store yelled out, “DON’T TALK TO HER, THIS BITCH HERE WORKS FOR THE DEVIL!”

“Do you know him?” Draco asks with a quirked eyebrow. The stranger kept yelling profanities at you but Draco saw how you couldn’t be bothered by it. “He does this every couple weeks. What brings you out here?” Your hands were stuffed tightly in your pockets for warmth.

“Do you own the street? Can I not be here?” he asked sarcastically. You faced him with a deadpan look as to ask him again without having to say the words to him. Or call him a smartass. Which he is. With a roll of his eyes, he continued, “I’m looking for something to eat but I’ve never been to these places before.”

“Ah,” you started, “Well I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re used to, but I suggest the Greek restaurant right across. Over-priced, but the best gyros you’ll ever have in Buffalo.”

“It’s yee-roh, not jahy-row.” Draco corrected. He couldn’t tell if you were irritated or confused after he said that. Probably both.

“You know Greek?” you asked.

“I studied it when I was a child. My tutor showed me the word once and hit my hand when I had mispronounced it. Learned the hard way to never do that again,” flashbacks to the older woman teaching him the language cursed his mind for a few seconds.

His stomach growled even louder now in the silence between them. Draco blushed in embarrassment, shifting around to look away so you wouldn’t see. You slightly chuckled and tapped his shoulder. “Come on, neighbor’s treat.” And you walked onto the busy street.

This bloody woman is crazy to be crossing a busy street he thought as he rushed to follow you across the street. He got scared as a car got too close and ran to the safety of the sidewalk. “You’re gonna get yourself bloody killed one of these days like that,” he scolded. “If you’re gonna live in New York, you’re gonna have to deal with annoying pedestrians and sometimes be an annoying pedestrian. Be glad you don’t live in Manhattan, they’re worse. A person could be hit by a car and he’d just get on up and keep walking.” you informed.

Draco would be lying to himself if he said that didn’t spook him a little. Sure, he’s seen a few students get hexed, some by him, but they’d never just dealt with it and continued walking in the halls. They’d either have to hope their friends knew the counter curse or they’d end up in the hospital wing and had Madam Pomfrey help them back to normal. These muggles really are just… strange.

The restaurant looked old and desperately needed a remodel but by Merlin, it smelled amazing. “Now, are you getting a yee-roh sandwich or are you getting something else?” you mocked his previous correction with a playful roll of your eyes. Draco looked at the menu but it didn’t matter as he didn’t know the first thing about Greek food. What the hell did my father force me to take lessons for? “Do you want me to just order for you?” you asked as he kept browsing for too long. There were only 12 things on the menu but it still confused him.

He held back a snarl as he agreed to your help. He stood aside as you ordered and waited until it sounded like you were done, then headed up to the window to pay. “Oh, you don’t have to. I insisted I would pay,” you tried to push his hand away and reach for your credit card but he proceeded to hand the money to the cashier. “It’s nothing.”

“Here or to-go?” the lady asked with a thick New York accent. The two of you just looked at each other waiting for someone to say something. “Do you want to just-”

“Eat it here?” He looked at the small space and saw only one unoccupied table by the window. One of two tables. No longer growling, his stomach was shaking nearly violently, indicating that he can’t wait any longer. It was a strange feeling to be starving. Never had he ever had to wait for food at Malfoy Manor nor at Hogwarts. Whether it was house elves or first years, someone always ran to get him food with a snap of his fingers. “Yeah, here’s fine.”

The lady handed your plates to you as he went to claim the small table before someone else did. He looked around the space with a slight disgusted look. It’s not that it was run by muggles, but just because the place looks so old and kind of dirty. Even the house elves at the Manor lived in better conditions. The corner he sat in made him feel slightly claustrophobic. How do they sit and enjoy anything like this?

You sat the food on the table and shook your jacket off on to the chair. Draco watched as you placed the plates as neatly in front of you both. He couldn’t help but notice the rings that covered most of your fingers. Some were simple silver bands, some bronze bands, and some looked like wire that had a wrapped, colorful rock in the center. They were mismatched but coordinated at the same time. If that made any actual sense.

You started some simple small-talk, “So, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I got a better job opportunity,” Draco responded. His voice sounded uninterested, and his eyes stared at the plate. It had three pieces of meat on a bed of white rice, a small salad and a little dipping bowl of some white sauce. He dipped the meat into the sauce and as he tasted it, he nearly groaned in content. The flavors danced around his mouth and he had to hold himself back from devouring the whole plate in a matter of seconds.

He could feel you staring at him but chose not to look up to see judgement in your eyes. Whether it was with amusement or not. The food was so good and he would most definitely order another one to-go on his way out for his lunch break tomorrow. I’m definitely bringing Blaise and Theo here.

“What kind of job do you do?” Draco stopped chewing his food and swallowed nervously. He should’ve expected this kind of question sooner or later, but here he was sitting in silence trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t just tell you that he’s a Healer because then that would lead to more questions and that’d be more answers he couldn’t give you. “What, you don’t wanna tell me?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him as he continued his silence.

Finally, the word popped in his mind, “I’m a doctor.” Hopefully that ends that conversation.

“That’s cool, what kind of doctor are you?” Shit. There’s more than one kind?

“Uh, I work with people who come into the hospital with major injuries like a broken arm and such,” Draco stuttered.

“So, an emergency room doctor. You work in the ER then,” you concluded with a hand over your mouth as you chewed. “Y-yeah, that.” Draco tried not to sound suspicious. “What about you?”

You cleared your throat, drank some of your soda and pointed out the window, “You see that store over there? Soul Beads? That’s my store.” It was weird how coincidental it was that of all streets to drive into and of all people to run into, he ran into you coming out of your personally owned store. Looking back at you, he saw your face relax and smile at the building. “What do you sell? I’m assuming it’s not food seeing as you didn’t invite me in.”

Now it was time for you to stutter, “Oh, just candles and stuff. Nothing too flashy.” You poked at your food and took small bites of it. There was an awkward silence between you two for about ten minutes before you started the conversation before, “Assuming you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, will you just be working that day?” Draco didn’t know much about the holiday, only that he was getting paid more that day.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the hospital for the night. Probably until four in the morning.”

“Well that sucks. You’ll miss out on the greatest American tradition that is Black Friday,” you chuckled.

“What’s that?” Yet another thing Draco didn’t understand.

“Black Friday is when people fight to the death for a discount on things like appliances and tvs. It’s quite amusing to watch,” you slightly exaggerated. Keyword slightly. Draco had wide eyes as he heard the description. “I’m sorry, to the death?”

With that, you laughed so hard you placed one hand flat against your chest and the other held the table with a tight grip as if you were to fall from your seat. He then realized you actually didn’t mean to the literal death and mentally scolded himself for being so gullible. You continued laughing and he rolled his eyes before chuckling to himself. You leaned back up and wiped some tears underneath your eyes, “Oh my god, I needed that laugh.”

A shiver went up Draco’s spine once he caught a glimpse of your smile. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you smile at all. Before your little argument, you would smile towards him and all the other neighbors all the time. But this never happened before. He looked away from your eyes and tried to find anything else to look at. Tilting his head up, he saw an air conditioning unit. Oh, that’s why.

Small talk ended there with a clear of his throat and proposed to go home. Draco saw how you looked a little disappointed and forced a small, kind smile on your face, “Yeah, it’s getting kinda late and I don’t want to keep my mother waiting. God knows what she’s done to my house while I was gone.” He wasn’t going to keep pressing on the matter as he figured they still weren’t close enough for that. One dinner didn’t make them friends in his book. It wasn’t terrible, though. Maybe he would do it again.

Walking to their own cars, she said “See you around, neighbor,” and got into her car and drove off. He just nodded his head as he always did and drove off as well. They arrived home at the same time and walked inside without looking at each other, thinking that it would just be weird to keep saying goodbye.

—

It was finally Thanksgiving, and Y/B/N and Stephanie were going to be over around three in the afternoon. Your mother was more of a pain than usual, waking you up at six in the morning to do last minute cleaning, grocery shopping, and starting on roasting the ham. The loud argument over ham or turkey in the grocery store the week before lasted for an embarrassing two hours after your mother caved and let you pick the main entree for dinner.

Once you got an hour to yourself, you went to your closet in the hall and grabbed a small glass jar then walked to your backyard for some lavender. You walked to the kitchen for a stick of cinnamon, placed the items on the kitchen counter and walked quickly to your room for something small. Your eyes found a loose ribbon on the floor and grabbed it then went back to the kitchen.

You put all the items into the jar and browsed the kitchen for one more thing. There was a bouquet of flowers on the dining table that your mother bought. Perfect. You grabbed a couple flowers and took the petals to mix in the jar. Once you were done, you chanted to yourself three times:

“Goddess, please take the negativity out of this kitchen.

Replace it with positivity and love. So mote it be.”

You heard your mother waking up from her nap from the guest room and ran into the kitchen to hide the jar somewhere she couldn’t see it. The spell can’t exactly work if she sees something to nag about. She walks in the kitchen and sees you looking suspicious.

She looks at you with squinted eyes - mainly because she had just woken up - but said, “I’m not gonna ask what you’re up to. Can you make the potato salad? I like the way you make it better.” You silently agreed as you looked for the things in the fridge and grabbed a large bowl to mix it in. Your mother walks up to one of the cabinets to grab a pot to boil the potatoes with, only to find the thing you tried to hide. “What’s this, honey?”

You stammered over your words trying to find an explanation before she cut you off, “It’s pretty with all the things in there. You should keep it out.” She placed it beside a photo on the countertop and walked away to fill the pot with water. You were surprised she didn’t ask any further questions. You continued cooking and had a hopeful smile on your face. Maybe it won’t be so bad tonight.

The doorbell rang and you both looked at the clock on the wall. It read 1:55 and you looked at each other in confusion. “Y/B/N must be early,” your mother guessed and went to the door to let him in. The greeting was loud as she greeted him in. You could hear your little brother’s laugh with enthusiasm as he walked into your kitchen, “What’s up, big sis?”

You placed the utensils down and ran up to him with your arms up, “I’ve missed you too, baby brother.” He was much taller than you as he picked you up and hugged you tightly. You slightly swung your legs to give him the signal to let you go. He got his height from your dad, leaving you short thanks to your mother. Your brother had a big smile on his face and you reciprocated the smile. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.

“Oh, lemme introduce you. Steph, c’mere!” He looked over his shoulder and called for the special guest. A beautiful woman with long, chocolate brown hair and doe blue eyes walked next to Y/B/N. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Stephanie.” She held her hand out causing you to quickly wipe your hands on your apron. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/B/N has told me so much about you. I was so nervous to meet you,” Stephanie admitted with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I wonder what this dummy told you. I bet you I can tell you more embarrassing stories about him,” you jabbed his arm.

“That’s not fair, I didn’t say anything all that bad. You’ll hex me or some shit,” he had his hands up in defense.

“Y/B/N!” Your eyes widened and you laughed nervously, “Don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot.”

Stephanie looked back and forth at the two of you and finally settled on you, waving a hand, “Oh no, that’s okay. I practice, too.” Wait, what? It seemed your mother thought the same exact thing, only out loud. “Yeah, Stephanie also does the same thing you do. Crazy, right?”

Your mother stood shocked before them, not saying anything. Your brother had a smile that wasn’t exactly fitting the situation. Stephanie had a kind smile, and although you were visibly surprised that your little brother’s girlfriend was, of all things, also a Wiccan, you were laughing inside at your mother.

This is gonna be the most interesting Thanksgiving ever.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[metalheadcowboy]

ok this isn’t about mullets, but just more sleepover stuff bc i need to talk about soft kegboys

-they sleep over at steve’s like every other week

-half of the time it’s not even on purpose, they just get tired while studying and end up crashing

-building pillowforts together and falling asleep in them!!

-or all three of them falling asleep in a pile on steve’s bed

-soft, non-rushed touched bc they all know they’re safe there

-sometimes they’ll have sex, but usually they’re just enjoying each other’s company

-playing stupid sleepover games like bloody mary

OH OH OH OH GOOD GOOD !!!!

It starts out as every other weekend, but lets be honest, it becomes a weekly/multiple times a week sort of thing. They’re all touch starved, affection starved, attention starved idiots, plus they all just sleep better when huddled together, clinging onto each other like otters.

A lot of times Billy and Tommy will talk Steve into a study sesh at his house, which they know will turn into a sleep over that’s why they do it. Tommy is always the first one to fall asleep atop his trig homework, snoring lightly, Steve desperately trying to move him to the bed before he drools all over his worksheet, which isn’t even half completed. Billy’s the one to suggest they just stay the night and Steve can’t say no to a drowsy, dopey, yawning Billy in his hoodie and gym shorts, hair frizzy from a day of wear and tear, it would be illegal to not allow them to all pile in his bed and stay the night. Even if they are late for school the next day.

BUT THE PILLOW FORTS !!! They all gather up every pillow and blanket they can find in Steve’s house and bring them to the living room and basically make a pillow castle. Like they all have their own sections with a little meeting spot int he middle, which is where they usually sleep because why would they want to sleep alone when they have each other to cuddle with? But they play board games, watch movies, eat popcorn, do regular sleep over things. One time Tommy suggests they play spin the bottle which just ends up with them all in one big pile having a messy make out session until they’re all giggling and laughing.

The fondest touches happen in the pillow fort only lit by camping lanterns Steve found in his supply closet. gentle fingertips brushing over soft skin, forehead and nose kisses, plus Steve and Tommy making it a mission to kiss every single freckle on Tommy’s skin. They don’t usually have sex, but when they do it’s either rutting against each others thighs, gentle desperate moans mingling with shared hot breaths or the syrupy sweet kind where they each take the time to slowly take each other apart and reduce each other to nothing but a pile of salty tears.

And oh my God, Bloody Mary. The thing is that Tommy’s actually afraid of Bloody Mary, his mom always called it a ‘Satan game’ and that if he played it things wouldn’t end up well for him. So, every time one of the boys tries to say the last ‘Bloody Mary’ he tries to divert from the situation at hand, whether it’s voicing his uneasiness or trying to strike up a conversation to divert what’s happening. He just doesn’t like it. But they always go through with it and do it, mainly because afterward Tommy gets really clingy and cuddly, genuinely afraid that Bloody Mary’s gonna come out of the mirror and get him.

Also during these sleepovers they make the most crackhead concoctions, honestly, like they’ll just go through Steve’s fridge and mix together the two weirdest things they can find. Sometimes they end up throwing up.

ALSO, late night drives to the junkyard, laying on top of the old schoolbus and stargazing?? Ugh, imagine.

Send me hc’s 💛💛

[mego42]

I 100% agree about wanting more fanfic lists! I honestly think it's the best way to get a variety. Everybody has personal preferences, if someone, who mostly reads long, fluffy au Brio fic, is making recs, they're not likely to mention short, angsty, canon Brio (which is understandable and fair!) so ideally someone else, who does like those, would also do recs. I'm pretty sure I've read or at least tried the vast majority of Brio fics, but the recs often make me re-read the fic and author.

YAAASSSS!!! I mean like, okay, I v much get why people have issues with rec lists, and I def do not by any stretch endorse the idea that recs/rec lists should be considered anything other than one person sharing a think they liked, but to me a lot of the issues (the same fics/authors getting recced, feeling like awesome fics/authors are going unrecognized) can be solved by more reccing, not less. everyone’s got different taste and different stuff they look/read for and I am extremely pro sharing that.

Idk, I think about it like this: in a previous internet life I was a YA book blogger and I lived and died by recs from other bloggers whose taste and preferences I knew. I mean, you know, I’d check out a book bc the premise sounded interesting but literally the first thing I would do was go to Goodreads and look for a handful of people who tended to like the same books I did and see what they were saying about it bc that was the best way to get a good idea of if I wanted to give it a shot. Or, on the flip side, there were some people whose reviews I followed bc I knew we v much did not read for the same things so if they hated a book for X, Y and Z reasons, I was probs going to like it (one thing about book blogging is if you want to keep current, you do not have a lot of time to mess around, snap judgements are key but that’s a whole other thing and idk if it’s even relevant anymore bc that landscape has changed so much). 

ANYWAY, the point is, I got in the habit and now I do the same thing with fic bc, tbh, I don’t have a ton of time to read, esp not when I’m actively writing which, with the exception of the last week or two, I’ve been doing p non-stop since I got here. All of which to say is, I am desperately in favor of fic recs for purely selfish reasons, I need them! Give them to me!!! Please!!!!!

That said, I uh, am v bad at returning the favor and I recognize that (I think I’ve made what? two rec lists for this fandom?) so I will try to do better to live by my own, idek what this is, moving on and here are 10 recs not really thematically linked by anything other than I’ve read them and loved them and don’t think I’ve put any of them on one of my rec lists yet (and if I have, my blog is a trainwreck I cannot be expected to remember what’s on it LET ME LIVE):

The Goodest Boy by EnsignDisaster

There’s a key turning in the lock and Buddy rushes over to greet his Master excited for her to meet his new friends. The door opens and he dances around Master’s feet rejoicing on the fact that she’s made it home. It's been literally forever.

“Hey Buddy what’s wrong? Need to go potty? Need to pee-pee?”

“Nah he’s good we took him out.”

Master does something very unMasterlike, she drops all the food she’d brought in on the ground and screams. It’s a non traditional avant garde type of hello…Buddy loves it. Mostly because while Master taps furiously on her small light box and sits tense in the corner opposite his new friend Buddy can lick up the egg smashed on the hardwood floor.

Buddy! The! Dog! POV! no further explanation necessary. Technically WIP, but it covers the whole pilot in a way that could be read as standalone (THOUGH THAT WOULD V MUCH GIVE ME A SAD though, when did the show forget the Bolands had a dog? so maybe that’s a tragic casualty of canon, idk)

May The Moon’s Silvery Beams by @pynkhues

Emma hums in agreement, and Rio turns her around to sit her on the counter, grabbing one of the older looking boxes of muesli while she kicks her legs out, heels bumping back against the counter, watching him. He gropes around the inside of the box, finally just opting to pull the plastic cereal bag out and peering inside. He can’t quite keep the grin off his face when he sees the wad of cash lining the bottom. This woman kills him, she really does.

Then there’s a little face peering up beside him, trying to peek into the box.

“What is it?” she asks, and he tilts the box sideways so she can see inside.

The upside to not getting here until s3 is that old fic is new to me! Huzzah!! Idk how many of y’all have already read this on but if you haven’t I highkey recommend. Extremely cute take on what if Emma woke up when Rio and came by to collect his/Beth’s/whoever's money during the shutdown. Cannot believe I’m reccing kidfic. Witchcraft!!!!!!

Maybe You’re My Fantasy by ohmisterjapan

He fucking loves the involuntary. It speaks to how he likes to unlock chaos and walk away. He's been called a control freak before and it felt like such a misunderstanding of him - he's all about self control but he doesn't want to control others. It's more that he enjoys revealing to them how little they can control themselves. It's more that he likes to stand still in the eye of someone else's storm and pick coldly through the wreckage.

Another oldie but a goodie. This fic is more like an extended character study (first chapter Rio POV, second chapter Beth) and I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT. I really really really love the take on both characters, it really digs in and pulls out some nuances that made me sit and think about my own read of them and I love it.

A Shock Of Blue by mintletters16

“You don’t look very well. Would you… like me to get you a glass of water or something?”

Her voice is low but smooth, laced with a softness that cuts straight though to his core. Strawberry blonde locks fall gently just above the pair of magnets freezing him in place.

He can still feel the chaos tearing through his veins - emanating from the gold plated gun stuffed in his waistband - and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t meet this wide-eyed gaze that’s been locked on his for the past God-knows-how-long anymore.

Can’t see blue alive and concerned when he just left it cold and void somewhere in oblivion.

She’s looking at him like he’s on the brink of madness. He thinks maybe he is.

Apparently, it’s backlist rec day over here and I’m not sorry. This one is another technical WIP but the chapter works as a standalone (BUT if the author decided to return to it I WOULD NOT BE MAD). It’s a what if Beth and Rio met pre-canon and it works so!!! well!!!! The tension and fascination and build are all *chef’s kiss* plus the writing is gorgeous and lyrical and ugh, I love it.

for a moment we were strangers by openhearts

“We got stuff,” Rio motions with a nod to the backpack Beth hadn’t noticed when they arrived hanging on the back of one of the chairs at the island.

She swallows and turns back to the dishes, realizing Rio apparently means to sleep there , assuming the place isn’t bugged.  Or for some kind of cover story if it is.  She turns and fixes Rio with a narrow-eyed stare, studying his face, the corner of his jaw especially prominent from the angle she’s looking up at him.  He’s methodical about drying each dish and setting it back on the rack, maddeningly ignoring her hard stare, so when he goes to take the next plate from her hands she grips it tightly and gets his attention.

“Hey.”

“What you on about now?” he asks, irritated.

It gets her gut uneasy, how he’s just . . . there, settling in, in ways he never had before, no matter how nonchalantly he would let himself in through her locked doors.  

“This is,” Beth tries, failing, to find words for it, “. . . it’s weird .”

This one takes place post 204 and Rio and Marcus end up spending a long weekend staying with Beth and Emma for reasons (that work, for the record, I’m just not trying to summarize rn) and it’s domestic and cute but honestly my fav part of it is how weirded out Beth is by how easily they slip into sync. The story does an excellent job balancing where they are in canon (uneasy post-sex truce) with a snapshot of what they could be if they got over themselves (HA! as if) and Beth is DEEPLY FREAKED which makes her slow slide into realizing she could maybe sort of kind of oh shit like it/him??? that much more satisfying.

Not So Careful by @bensonstablers

When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go to his but he’s too busy watching the letter opener which is still pressed against the back of his hand. Curiously, Beth runs it up his arm, careful not to press too hard, and smiles a little as he shivers. Pulling her leg up onto the bed, she shuffles closer to him before pressing the tip of the sword to his chest and slowly circling his left nipple with it, being sure not to get too close.

“You ain’t gotta be that careful.”

And when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s got that look. The one that always makes a lump form in her throat and for her to fall back into bed with him without a single thought of what they have to do that day. Only thing is, this time they’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the weekend and well, staying in bed the entire time had seemed like an appealing idea so she allows herself to give in a little to that look.

It makes me EXTREMELY SAD that knifeplay ranked so low on the kink survey so I’m gonna need y’all to check out this V V V EXCELLENT example of it and come back and tell me you’re sorry and you voted wrong. I am v reasonable what are you talking about.

love (where it wasn’t supposed to be) by @lilliloves

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

And who brings him into the room Dean hmmmmm????? Jk, jk (or am I). In this one Rio catches Dean out on the town with another woman (bc of course he is) and tries to call him out but whoops! gets called out himself. I really love the like, idk, undercurrent of wistful regret in this fic. I love Dean straight up calling Rio out on his feelings (spoilers but there’s an exchange right after this one that made me straight up holler), and, you know, obvs I am here for Rio making Dean feel like an ass. 

Hell Is Other People by makemanybraver

Rio: We're in Hell, Elizabeth! If you don't think you belong here, then repent! Don't fuck everyone in the room in hopes that you get to go out!

Beth: Why do I have to repent?!

Rio: Because you did some fucked up shit in your life, Elizabeth! You keep doing fucked up shit here, too! And you think you don't belong here!

Beth [screaming at the top of her lungs]: Because I don't!

This fic is existentially bonkers and I love it. It’s the kind of experimental format/homage/what have you kind of thing that I L O V E. Based on No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre, Beth, Rio, and Fitzpatrick are stuck together in a room in hell for all eternity. What more do you need, honestly.

Working On Things by odenkirk

Unknown Hold up, Elizabeth. I'm really thinkin about you here.

Beth turned her face into the pillow, effectively suffocating herself for a moment, but thinking it was a good trade off for the way the cool silk of her pillowcase chilled her skin.

She lifted her head to glance at the still sleeping Dean before replying.

Beth I'm thinking about you too. But this can't happen.

She wanted him to know she wanted him, but she also thought that admitting she was already there would save Rio from trying to convince her. She wanted him, but morals had to win just once in a while.

YES this is technically Beth/Dean while also being Beth/Rio BUT it’s also sort of Rio/Dean and I am HERE FOR THE DIVERSITY OF SHIPPING leave me alone who asked you.

Five Times He Knew What She Was Thinking, and One Time He Didn't by JoeyLee

Aight, so tell ‘em I was hittin’ it. Said deliberately blunt, eyes locked on her face the whole time, just to see those blue eyes widen. She looked so shocked that he almost laughed, so he softened it teasingly just to keep her going. Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell ‘em we were makin’ love.

Then he just watched her, just watched her face, just fucking fascinated. Her lips were parted and her eyes were big as saucers, and…there it was. Before she could look away flustered, he watched the thought go through her mind. Him and her together.

He wondered what she was picturing or where. Them in the back seat, her bed, a motel?  Her on top or him from behind or his face between her legs?

Whatever it was, the blush started immediately, and he watched it bloom out from her cheeks to her hair. Then she was tearing her eyes away to gulp a little.  But it didn’t knock her down for long before she was looking back. And then, wait, was she actually asking him how to go about telling a fed they were fucking?

Okay this is another technical WIP but works as a standalone. I am absolutely fucking feral for character POV takes of canon scenes and this is a supremely excellent take on Rio POV of some notable scenes from the pilot through 204. Imo it brilliantly captures Rio’s voice and I love it a lot. 

HEADS UP I am absolute shite at tracking ao3 to tumblr unless people have specifically told me someone’s ao3/tumblr name SO if you recognize any of the non-tumblr authors on please lmk so I can tag them and YES I recognize that I am asking y’all to do things for me throughout this entire post and I’M SORRY OKAY I’M A WHOLE ASS MESS LOVE YOU BYE

[catralvr]

I’ll make a cup of coffee for your head pt.1

Duncan x Gwen

Word count: 4788

Warnings: Smut (at the end)

Summary: In which Gwen goes into a new coffee because her usual one near her university is closed for the week and meets an old acquaintance working there. She finds herself going there more and more, getting closer to him again.

Notes: I know it might be bad but hey I wrote this because I had one particular scene in it going round and round in my head so. Enjoy. And yeah I’m gonna make a pt 2 bc it was starting to be way too long for me to write. And yes I stopped after That Part sorry

Gwen was standing in front of the coffee place, her laptop already in her hand, music going through her earphones, and pushed the door without even looking. The door didn’t budge. She frowned her eyebrows, not understanding why. She always came at that time, to work on her essays. She raised her head, only to be met by a sign saying that it would be closed the whole week for renovation. 

Fuck.

She groaned, put her laptop back in her bag and went away. Where the fuck was she supposed to go now? She had no idea where to find another coffee place as good as this one. 

She wandered for ten good minutes, looking for somewhere somewhat good. She wanted to drink her usual macchiato while eating her favourite chocolate muffin. Where was she supposed to go now. Since she wasn’t finding anything, she ended up going to the first one she saw. Didn’t seem to be a lot of costumers, which was good for her. Great, even. Nice, she’ll remember this place for future times, and for the rest of the week too. It was kind of far away from her place but she didn’t really mind, this would leave more time alone to Courtney and Heather, they’ll be happy.

She went to the counter while waiting for the barista to come back to her, took down an earphone to hear him while ordering. 

— A caramel macchiato with a chocolate muffin, if you have some ?

— Sure. That all ?

The voice. It seemed like she knew it... Her eyes which were glued on her phone, sending texts to Courtney and Leshawna saying she probably would be late for their movie night, looked up to see the green hair guy from that tv reality show she did, years ago. That show where she met Courtney and Leshawna, her flatmates. 

— Duncan ?

— Gwen ?

She blinked twice, making sure it was really him, before laughing awkwardly. She knew he lived in this town, it was big after all. And he was friends with Geoff and DJ, whom she still was close to (but somehow never saw Duncan again, maybe because of packed schedules). Nevertheless, she was still surprised to see him. Wasn’t expecting it. 

— Yeah that’ll be all, thanks. 

She held out her phone to pay with it, an awkward smile on her lips. What was she supposed to do now? Wasn’t like she had tried to stay in touch with him (not that she didn’t want to, only things happened which made it hard). 

— So um... Didn’t expect you to be working in a café. 

— Yeah, a guy gotta do what he’s gotta do to pay the bills.

He laughed, an awkward laugh too. The green-haired guy (still dyed his hair green? Good choice though, it suited him well) went to make her coffee, while Gwen stayed at the counter, waiting for her order. She felt too awkward to walk to a table as she usually did. 

— I have a band too, on the side, we do some gigs here and there but not enough to live off of it. And working here is nice, never too many people, customers are usually nice. Hot too.

A smirk going her way. She rolled her eyes, not being able to repress the grin appearing on her lips. Same as he used to be, not that she was really surprised. She liked that about him (maybe still do a little bit). 

— The other place I usually go to is constantly packed, might change and make this my study hangout.

— Please, be my guest.

She laughed, a real laugh this time, not really awkward. Yeah, she might make it her study place, especially if it’s empty like that. Oh, it was so weird to see him again. Especially since she thought about him from time to time, when she went on Instagram and saw Geoff’s and DJ’s stories. Even so, she wasn’t expecting it. Not when she was still angry about her favourite café being closed (even if it ended up being kind of a good thing). He handed her a plate with her coffee and the muffin on it, winked at her and then let her go to go see another costumer who came after her. She went on the closest table to sit, took out her laptop and started writing this goddamn essay she was supposed to hand it the next day. 

During the next two hours she ended up glancing at Duncan more than a few times, even if she wouldn’t admit it. It was strange that they hadn’t kept in touch but the way things ended with the two of them was way too... weird to keep on being friends. She kept in touch with some others, hell she was housemate with Courtney and Leshawna (Heather too, since she was Courtney’s girlfriend and was constantly at their apartment). Geoff too, Bridget by extension, but that was it. Total Drama was something she desperately wanted to erase from her mind. And she had somewhat succeeded, if it wasn’t for even people at her university going up to her and asking if she was the Gwen. Which was annoying. 

Once, she stood up to ask when the place was closing, Duncan answered 7pm. It was already 6. 

— Fuck. I needed more time. But it’s ok, I’ll leave when it closes thanks!

She was already walking away, ready to go back to that essay. She should be able to finish it by that time, if she stopped being distracted. She could do it.

And she did. Oh it was kind of hard, because everything was a good reason to be distracted. The squeaking of shoes on the floor. The sound of the coffee machine. But she finally was done with it and immediately sent it via email to her professor, was sure she wouldn’t forget it this way. When she looked at the time, she saw it was already way past 7pm. Which she didn’t understand, because she wasn’t asked to leave. She groaned, mad at herself for not having put an alarm, Duncan probably was cleaning and forgot to ask her to leave, but still. She felt too bad about staying overtime, maybe he was doing overtime because of her. 

She walked around the room, to find him. Say goodbye before leaving, apologise about staying so much longer. It already half past seven. It let more alone time to Heather and Courtney, but still. She shouldn’t have overstayed. 

He wasn’t in the main room, maybe in the back cleaning. But she didn’t want to venture where she wasn’t allowed to. She ended up taking a piece of paper and write a thank you note on it (and her number, just in case). She then left, ready to walk back to her apartment. She was still surprised she saw him again, in a fucking café ? Who would’ve thought the Duncan she met when they were 16 would end up working there. But five years had passed, so it was to be expected. Even herself, even the girls with whom she stayed in touch. They all changed, partly because of that damn show, partly because they grew too. You change a lot between 16 and 21 and she was only now realising it. Well, she did before, but it hit her. 

She wondered how much he had changed, she hoped they would be able to get back in touch, she didn’t leave her number for nothing. Well. She’ll see. Now, she needed to get back without getting lost. 

She ended up being able to do it, came back to Courtney and Leshawna watching a movie they had already watched at least ten times.

— Yo.

— Hey, sorry we didn’t wait for you. You were taking too long. There’s some lasagna left in the oven.

— Thanks Leshawna!

She was too tired to even argue about them not waiting for her, was only glad Heather wasn’t there. Not that she still despised her, she ended up being kind of close to her. She just didn’t want to come in to her and Courtney making out on the couch, thinking they were alone.

Once.

Not twice.

Once her lasagna heated, she went back to living room and sat on the couch, watching the movie with them. Didn’t matter how many times they watched it, they still laughed the only better thing was that now they could say every line about that movie.

Her hair was tied up in a bun (she had let it grown up to a bit under her shoulder blades but still dyed it black and teal, because it became an habit and couldn’t bear seeing herself with her natural brown hair) as she was lying on her bed, reading a book recommended by her teacher. She usually did that every night before sleeping, got her tired, best way to fall asleep. She was starting to get sleep and put her book on her nightstand when her phone went off. With a sigh she took it and sat on her bed, unlocking it. A text from an unknown number? Eyebrows frowned she opened it.

got your note, wanna hang out later?

OH! It must’ve been Duncan! Gwen had lost a bit of hope, seeing he still hadn’t sent her a text. “Later”.

yeah sure! tell me when you’re free we’ll see

She then put her phone facing down, so she wouldn’t be bothered by the light, and went to sleep.

The next day, she went back to the café place after her classes were over. They exchanged a bit of texts with Duncan during the day, mainly to try and figure out a day to see each other. Which ended up being hard. The only time was during Geoff’s next party (which would make Leshawna more than happy, she had been trying to get her to go since forever). Maybe another time, if any of their plans got cancelled. Or like, his gigs. Since he was playing almost every night, to try and make his band more known. Or she could go to one of his concerts. 

She usually wasn’t up for those type of stuff, you never knew if they were really good or not and having to lie to people... She shivered just at the thought. Anyways. She barely met him again, why was she thinking about all that. It was dumb. They hadn’t talked in years. Since they broke up, after Total Drama.

Maybe because you still have... feelings for him.

She shook her head as those thoughts rushed through her head. 

Nuh-uh.

No way.

Not going back that path.

Unless...?

NO!

She slapped herself, putting her thoughts back in place.

They weren’t even friends anymore. 

She would focus on that.

Being friends with Duncan again.

She pushed the door to enter the coffee place, took out her earphones and went immediately to the counter. Just like the day before, Duncan was there. He looked up from whatever he was doing and smirked at Gwen.

— Missed me already ?

— Yeah, you’re so irresistible I couldn’t stay away from you for longer.

— Knew it. I do that to people.

A smile made its way on her lips as she ordered the exact same thing as the day before and went to sit, waiting for her coffee to be ready. This time, she took out a book instead of her laptop. She had already done all of her homework in advance. She still came, though, because she liked to have a part of the day where she could just rest, be alone for a little while. And this place was so much quieter than the other one. It was a good thing it closed for the week, in the end. Otherwise she would've never found this place.

A plate got laid down in front of her, which made her jump a little bit. Oh. She almost had forgotten about her order.

— There you go. Put a little extra on your coffee. And don't need to pay, it's on me.

She was ready to argue with him but he sat down, crossed his arms on his chest.

— Don't say no. Not letting you a choice.

— Ok. Won't complain.

She took a sip of her drink. Coffee was her addiction, she could never get enough of it. Caffeine didn’t even work on her anymore, her body had gotten used to it. And the fact that he put whipped cream on top of it was really appreciated. 

She was ready to get back into her book, only to have it taken away from her as Duncan sat down on the other side of the table, his elbows on the table. 

— Aren’t you supposed to work? said Gwen, an eyebrow raised.

— Do you see any customers around?

He was right and she couldn’t help the smirk which made its way on her lips, as she rolled her eyes.

— What do you want, Duncan?

— Have a chat, since we won’t be able to see each other. Since we’re both oh so busy constantly.

— Whose fault is that?

— Eh, not my fault I’m always booked and busy. Anyway. You live with Courtney? What the fuck did I miss?

Gwen choke on her coffee as he asked the question and had to hit her chest to try and not suffocate. 

— We kind of dated for a while. After All Stars ended. At first it was... awkward but we went back to being friends and then... You know, when she’s not there she’s really nice? I think the competition got to her. And yeah. It was nice. But it wasn’t working. Still friends though. Now she’s dating Heather. And I kept on being friend with Leshawna, because Leshawna.

She ended her sentence with a light laugh, which ended up being an explosion of laughter when she saw the face Duncan was making. Maybe it was too much at once.

— Dated Courtney? Dating Heather? She? What? What the fuck?

—Yeah. You missed a lot. But hey! Time to catch up on everything!

— Yeah. Didn’t miss much on my side. Tried to go to college, dropped out to start a band. And work... here.

He waved his hand, showing the coffee shop. It wasn’t that bad, in Gwen’s opinion. Didn’t seem to be a lot of customers here. And as long as it payed well. 

They spent the rest of the time talking, Gwen didn’t even have the time to read her book in the slightest. But it was nice. Catching up with him. She learned he was in a relationship with a girl for two whole years, but it didn’t work out. She told him she never really went out with anyone except for Courtney, it was mostly one night stands or hookups. 

She went back home that night, light-hearted, happy. She felt a ting in her heart, it felt so familiar. She didn’t realise but... She kind of missed that. Him. In a way. She shook her head, trying to shake those feelings away. It was neither the time nor the place for that. 

But still, she kept on going back there. Almost every day, for the next few weeks. Getting closer to him. Intimate. Flirty, sometimes. At first, she didn’t tell her friends. She didn’t know how they would react. After all, they all left Duncan in pretty bad terms (Courtney especially) and she was afraid. 

One evening, as they were all in the living room, each of them doing something else. Gwen was reading a book her art history teacher had recommended her when she asked about something to improve her knowledge. She was almost at the end of her degree and felt like she hadn’t learned enough, didn’t go through everything she wanted to. So she tried to resolve it on her own. 

Her phone, which was right next to her, lit up with a text notification. She picked it up, only to see it was from Duncan.

hey, got a free ticket for the concert i’m playing it tonight, wanna come?

A smile appeared as she answered his text.

yeah, ofc, text me the details i’ll be right there

She couldn’t help but be happy about it. Was this a date? It was right? She didn’t know. She didn’t know where their relationship was. Which point they were at. They were flirting together but didn’t know where they stood, if it was only in a friend’s teasing way or not. She hadn’t gone in a date in ages. Had to make sure it would become one, in the end. Because she desperately wanted it to be a date. She was way too careful about how she dressed, her makeup, her hair. Spent at least a half hour on what she should do with her hair, only to end up with a bun. It showed her collarbones. It was nice. She felt nice. 

She arrived a bit too late at the venue, took too long to get ready. But Duncan had texted her, told her when he would perform so she was still ok. Hadn’t missed him.

She still was kind of on the fence about what to think of this, bands of her friends were rarely good, she still had nightmares about what Harold and the others boys did after Total Drama Action. But maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Just maybe. And maybe drinking something would make this all the more enjoyable, who knew. 

She ordered a beer, sat at the bar while waiting the turn of Duncan’s band. There wasn’t too many people here, it was nice. She could clearly see the stage from where she was sitting, even if she would probably get closer once it was their turn, just to be sure he would see her. She felt like it was kind of important? Otherwise he probably wouldn’t have asked her to come. 

The bands she had listened to up to now weren’t that bad, even if they were not amazingly good either. She could listen to them, it was ok. The time was almost there. She ordered another beer, took the glass and went up to the crowd. Saying “sorry” and “excuse me” she gradually succeeded in going first row (she might have used the excuse of “my boyfriend’s going to play next”, it always worked). Sipping her drink, she was moving her head, smile on her lips. It was a nice evening, unexpected, but nice. The fact that she hadn’t gone out in ages, because of all the workload her teachers constantly gave her, only made this experience better. The current band ended their set, got out of the stage. Her phone rang, another text from Duncan.

we’re next. u there?

Gwen smirked, put her glass on the stage right in front of her for a few seconds to answer.

look right in front of you. can’t miss me.

She put back her phone in the pocket of her jacket, took back her glass and drank it. A warm feeling was rising in her body, a sense of anticipation. She was expecting something, but wasn’t quite sure what. It would be so fucking corny of him to have written a song about her. Trent did it way too many times, when they were together. But still... Anyway. She shook her head, took another mouthful of the beer, her eyes fixed on the stage. 

And then they came on. Duncan’s eyes were looking further away in the crowd, before finally locking onto her. He reciprocated the smirk which still was on Gwen’s lips, got his bass ready. The others got their instruments ready too, signalling to each other. Duncan winked at Gwen, before signalling that he was ready, too. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad. Reminded her if some bands she used to listen to. Still did, actually. She bopped her head in rhythm to the music, her eyes closed and occasionally looking at Duncan. The lyrics were fine, the music was great. The beer she had taken was making her feel all calm and nice, the smile on Duncan’s lips whenever he was looking at her made her feel all... fuzzy inside. When that song ended, just before starting their last one, he raised his eyebrows, laughed a silent laugh. She rolled her eyes, finishing her glass. She tried to read the program on her phone, quickly before they started the song. One more band after them. Way enough time to hang out with him, before the results were announced. 

That song was way slower than the first two. This was the first ballad of the evening, and a pretty. Lately, she had found herself enjoy ballads way more than other songs. Was mostly the only songs she had on her daily playlists on Spotify, had made Duncan listen to her favourites. This was probably a coincidence. Didn’t know for sure. But it was nice. A nice change of pace. She found herself looking at Duncan, and him staring at her, way more than she was expecting to. The song ended faster than she wanted it to, and they were already off the stage. No more interest for her, so she left the crowd. Gave the glass back to the barman. 

— So. What did you think?

— Better than what I expected. Might have a shot at winning this thing.

She said, as she turned around. He was there, looking at her with that same face he had on stage. Looking... kinda hot, actually. But maybe it was just the beer acting up. She couldn’t know for sure. (She did know, she had found it hot for the longest time). He approached the bar, ordered a beer. Take a better look at her. 

— I’m glad you came, it was nice to see you there. Looking so good, it made me want to be even better for you.

He laughed, ruffled his hair. He wanted to say something else, she could feel it. But maybe later? She didn’t want to hurry him. 

— Who knew Duncan could be so corny?

— Oh, I can be something else than corny. 

— I’d like to see that.

They glared at each other before bursting into laughter. Duncan took his glass of beer, drank a bit. It was silent between them, but not awkward. The last band was playing in the background. Gwen finally sat on a stool, taking it closer to Duncan. She crossed her legs, thinking of something to say, but Duncan did it before her.

— I meant it, you really look good. I had forgotten how you look in a dress like that.

— I mean, I also changed a lot in five years. In case you didn’t notice.

— Oh. I did. Believe me, I did.

The way he was looking at her after saying those words made her shiver. Weirdly enough, her heart was starting to beat faster. Would he... He moved in closer to her, and so did she. The space between them soon getting closer and closer.

— Can I kiss you?

His voice was a whisper. Gwen closed the gap between them, kissing him. His lips were as soft as she remembered, one of his hands find its way onto the back of her neck, while the other was holding one of Gwen’s. They broke off the kiss after a few moments, both breathless. Both smiling.

— Is that enough of an answer for you? Gwen said, winking.

— Wanna come to my place?

She blinked twice, frowned.

— What about the results?

He shrugged.

— Meh. I know we’ll win anyway. My bandmates will be mad. I can handle it. It can wait.

The hand on the back of her neck slid down to the small of her back, pressing it slightly. Gwen laughed, shaking her head. She took out her phone from her jacket, sending a text to Leshawna and Courtney saying she wouldn’t be back for the night. They left. The expectation of what was going to happen was building up, she felt an excitation she hadn’t felt in so long. The way to his apartment was pure torture. They had to walk for about 20 minutes, the high heels Gwen was wearing was killing her. But she didn’t complain, only talked to Duncan. They talked a lot, during those twenty minutes. However, once they were inside the apartment and Duncan locked the door, all talk was over. 

He immediately kissed her, leading her somewhere. She didn’t even have the time to take a look at where he was living, she already was in his bedroom (he had a two room apartment? wow), thrown onto his bed. The light was off, but the light from the street were enough for her to make out Duncan in the darkness. He was already taking off his shirt and pants, she unzipped her dress and let it fall on the floor. She didn’t really want to talk for now, only to feel him next to her. It wasn’t long, he quickly went to kiss her, his hands undoing the bun to pass his hands through her hair, pulling it with a small laugh. She groaned, pulled her hair back.

— Stop that.

— You prefer this?

He went down, started kiss her neck. Bit it here and there. Went further down, kissing all her body as he did so. Gwen shivered, held out her breath. She giggled when he started kissing her stomach. Immediately stopped once he arrived at her underwear. She wasn't expecting it to go there that fast.

— Duncan...

He looked up at her, an eyebrow raised.

— If you don't want to, stop me.

Him saying that made her feel more comfortable. She exhaled, put her hand in his hair.

— No. It's fine.

He stayed there, looking at her for a few more moments a grin slowly making its way before taking the last piece of tissue on Gwen's body out of the way. He kissed her there like no one did before. She tried to hold it in, bit her tongue to drown any noise. Only some few moans, as her hands were buried deep down into the sheets. He let his tongue slid, trying to make her make more noise. Ended up going back to her face, to kiss her.

Feeling Gwen's short breathes made him laugh. As a revenge, she held out her hand, put it in his boxer. Grinning, she started to stroke him, laughing herself as she felt him thrust with a moan.

— Feeling less bold all of sudden, are you?

— Wanna bet?

His free hand reached into his bedside table, took out a condom. He pulled back from Gwen for a few instants, ripping the package open. He quickly put it on, went back down to kiss Gwen.

— You sure about this?

— Yes. I am.

He looked her in the eyes as he made sure to not hurt her, smiling even more when he felt her legs wrapping themselves around his waist. One his hands reached out to hold her waist as the other was against her cheek, caressing it. They were both smiling, both looking into each other's eyes. It felt as if they were only one. Gwen's hands were around the back of Duncan's neck, her moand got louder and louder. Duncan was faster and faster. They were moaning together, kissed each other frantically as they felt the end coming. Which was amazing. In unison. The first time it ever happened to Gwen. The first time she came that fast with someone, the first time it was so... Good.

She laughed as Duncan laid down next to her, she stood up to go to the toilets and went back next to him right after, still totally naked. She was too exhausted to put back any clothes on.

She curled herself up next to him, as he put his arm around her, his fave buried in her hair, smiling.

— Nice to see you again, Gwen.

— Nice to see you again, Duncan.

[chanswavyhair]

i learned to love (pt.2) | seo changbin

a/n: i ended up writing this bc i felt too upsetti doing a sad ending JSHSJS sorry:’) anyways, i hope u enjoy uwu. stream streetlight folks!!

word count: 1.8k

genres: angst, fluff

part 1 | [m.list]

it’s been a long night. you sighed, lying in your bed. you were listening to red velvet’s i just on loop, while surfing the internet. suddenly, the idea of checking changbin’s sns crossed your mind, as it’s been days since you last checked. you tried to control yourself, but your fingers were already typing his usser.

to your surprise, you saw that he had produced another –probably amazing– song. you immediately clicked on the link, and closed your eyes as you listened carefully the lyrics.

“even a fool knows this, you’re the best thing I've got” wow, first verse and it already hit really hard. you tried to make a promise to yourself, and not to cry if it seemed like he already fell for someone else. even if it’s been three months now since you left.

“i should've hurried, it's too late to regret it now” to be honest, those three months were really significant. you finally got to understand yourself, what did you want to do, and even learned to love yourself more. but somehow, you still missed his love, no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t seem to get interested in anyone else.

“i should've let go of my foolish pride then, i’m only regretting now for missing out the chance” tears started to fall by then. as much as it hurt, you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he would think about you as much as you did about him. well, he didn’t have a reason since it was you whobroke up with him and suddenly disappeared, but you couldn’t help but hope the lyrics were about you.

“how could I ever let you go?” that was exactly what you’ve been thinking for the last three months. yes, you did break up with him, but you still loved him as you’ve ever loved anyone. your relationship came to a dead point, and you had to put it out, even though you hated yourself because of it.

one more night, you cried silently until you’d fall asleep; regretting to ever let all of this happen.

for changbin, things were really, really weird. just like you, at first he thought that even if it was a shame, you two couldn’t have done anything about it. but eventually, he realized that he missed you so bad. he came to think that he got used to having you by his side, which made him start to take less care about your relationship. but he loved you, and he didn’t get why didn’t you let him have a chance to talk to you. well, to be honest, he didn’t try that much and tried to accept it at the beginning, but he was slowly going crazy. so he wrote a song, hoping you would listen it, and at least know, that he still loved you so, so much.

a month after on track came out, you still listened to it on daily basis, and most of the nights, you played it before you went to bed. it was kind of masochistic, reminding yourself everyday of changbin not wanting to let someone go. but you had a life, in which you would study to get your preschooler teacher title – as the high school teacher title wasn’t valid. and in the afternoon you worked at a small café. you were still young, so you didn’t worry about studying again a lot.

it was a quiet afternoon, not many people at the café, which meant you could study while it was empty. just half an hour before closing, the door was opened, probably the fourth or fith client in the last hour.

“welcome to streetlight café, how can i- oh” your eyes went wide open as you realized it was the seo changbin who stood in front of you. he seemed quite surprised as well.

“uh, if you’re not comfortable i can leave-” he said awkwardly. you immediately shook your head.

“please don’t-, i mean, i can keep it professional” what a liar, you thought. he nodded at your words.

“then, can i have a espresso without milk, please?” you nodded trying to ide your smile, because you still remembered his favorite coffee. while preparing it, you realized you haven’t felt your heart race like this in such a long time. as you finished, you took it to where he was sitting. he didn’t say anything but right when you were about to return to your place, he spoke.

“are you busy?” changbin asked. you were internally in chaos, but so he was.

“well... you’re the only here right now.” you said nervously. he made a motion, telling you to sit in front of him. you didn’t rush, not wanting to seem desperate.

“how have you been doing?” he asked, looking at his coffee as if moving the spoon again and again was the most interesting thing ever.

“to be honest... could’ve been better. i am studying to get the preschooler teacher title, and i’m living with a friend from my hometown who is studying here in seoul, too. i guess she was more fun before.” you joked a bit, before mumbling, “what about you?” you tried to avoid his eyes once you finished talking.

“i’m still living at the apartment. i’ve produced many songs, and even took up rapping, turns out i am pretty good. but things are weird, because everything’s right, but i’ve been feeling complicated for some time now.” he said. he made himself look at you, before causually saying, “i haven’t dated anyone since you left, by the way.” changbin hoped you either did.

“me neither, i’m really busy studying and working to meet new people. also, i didn’t feel like doing it.” you said. he didn’t say anything for the next minutes, he just drank his coffee, and you stared at him.

“i’m sorry i made you feel unloved.” he stated, once he finished the hot drink. he surprised himself, looking for your eyes.

“changbin... i think we both did. and it’s understandable because we were both so busy and stressed. i mean, it did hurt, but i could never blame it just on you for being unhappy.” you said, with your heart on your hands. he was clearly collecting his thoughts, until he left out a soft laugh.

“if you think about it, maybe fate wanted us to meet here, don’t you think? what i mean is... if it’s okay for you, we could try to be friends again... i miss you.” your heart fluttered at his words, but you didn’t let it show.

“i guess we can try to be friends again, but i don’t want to rush.” you said. nonetheless, your heart wanted to be home with him again, while your rational part just didn’t want to go through letting go of him again. you smiled softly, ignoring your thoughts. “i missed you too, changbin.”

since that evening at the café, you two officially came to terms with each other, and ineither of you spelt that night out of excitement. he kept his words, and didn’t make any moves on you, just let things flow. it was kinda painful for him, to see you eventually more often, but not being able to kiss you, or to hug you – unless you did it first or he really needed to.

months went by, and you two became really close again, and although it felt different – a good type of different – from when you two started dating, you couldn’t help but fall even harder for him, wondering why did you ever let go of him. when you two started talking, you thought it would help you get over him, but it obviously had the opposite effect.

for changbin, even if he said he was happy to be friends with you again, he eventually let his feelings become obvious. he knew you knew, but he didn’t really mind it, because you were too good to leave him hanging from a string, so you would tell him if you weren’t feeling something too. he just didn’t want to pressure you, even if he half jokingly reminded you from time to time that you could sleep at his (and formerly yours) place; but it just didn’t felt right for you – after all, you used to live there with him and you were already confused enough.

half a year had passed, when you found yourself in his couch, almost cuddling him, watching a boring program you weren’t even watching. it was getting late, you usually left his place by the time, but that night, it felt so wrong to do it. you’ve contained yourself way too many times, but that night you just didn’t want to. you wanted to let things flow, and whatever it should happen, it would.

“it’s getting late, do you want me to walk you home?” he offered, looking at you. you stared at him, wondering if you should tell him your thoughts.

“changbin.” you said, doubting a last time.

“hmm?” he looked at you lovingly, while his deep voice let you know that he would be there for you, whatever you had to say. you then became confident on your decision.

“can i sleep over? is that okay for you.” you said, and his eyes suddenly widened.

“wait, are you for real?” he asked.

“i wouldn’t joke about it.” you answered.

“but... you are aware of my feelings for you, aren’t you? i’m not sure if i... will be able to restrain myself if we spend the night together, y/n.” he said. he felt ashamed to speak up about his feelings, even if you already knew.

“changbin, i’m not a little girl anymore. i am very conscious of your feelings, so just... don’t. you don’t have to restrain yourself.” he looked at you, getting closer. was this finally happening?

“y/n, before i do... i need to let you know. i love a lot, i don’t think i’ve ever stopped. i hated myself when i lost you, and i stopped when i found you again. if i focus on any part of you, your hands, your lips, your legs... i remember what i was to feel them against my skin and want to feel them again. but more than that, i ask myself how can love them all. so, if you are sure about this, ask me to kiss you and i will, but if you’re not, don’t do this. because i don’t know if i’ll ever love again.” he said, centimeters from your face, holding it with his hands, while you were now holding his heart.

“i’m afraid to hurt you so bad again you don’t love again, but you know i’ve always been selfish, and i’m even more afraid of you not loving me anymore. it’s crazy, how i can keep falling for you again and again. we are too young to love like this, but i would never regret it, just don’t ever let me down. so if you are willing not to do it, please... kiss me, changbin.”

[sirius-archive]

Could I get an imagine where the reader is a muggle American and she’s on vacation in London with her family and she somehow lost her family and she’s like freaking out and then she runs into Sirius on the streets and he like helps calm her down and helps her find her family? Sorry if this is a weird request

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans (mentioned) 

Warnings: Swearing, stranger danger too, I guess. 

A/N: so sorry this took so long! I loved the idea and I hope I did it justice. I might add to it later on or revamp it bc I love the idea but it’s a big maybe at the moment bc I’m so busy with uni and work and also my other wips. I hope you enjoy this though. Also I changed the request quite a bit bc I forgot what you originally wanted! So sorry!! 

just want to add that I did something o probably shouldn’t and included my real life friends! With their permission, ofc. I also made a modern reference even tho it’s supposed to be the seventies but I liked it too much so I left it in ha ha. Also…pls don’t talk to strangers. This is fanfiction people not an advice column. 

****

It’s another uncharacteristically warm day in London.

The sun showers blankets of warm golden light over the city, guilding skyscrapers and warming the sweet, honeyed breeze. Sparrows are chirping sweet, morning songs, dancing in the air with surprising grace. Squirrels scamper across lush green grounds in a park nearby, happily bidding you a good morning.

And not one of these motherfuckers are going to help you find your friends.

You wander aimlessly past the same park monument you saw just half an hour ago. Your legs are already aching, your feet are forming blisters that hurt the more you think about them, and the sun is slowly drilling into your soul.

You think you might die of thirst before you find your friends.

In retrospect, it wasn’t entirely Sophie’s fault. While it was her dumb shit idea to tag along with the sexy British tour guide, you, Matt, Aaron, Riley and Reuben had been far more interested in touring the British Museum. So it wasn’t at all surprising when Sophie rushed off with knockoff Colin Firth to have a jolly high tea or whatever it is British people do on dates. Still, it gave you an opportunity to visit the museum.

You hadn’t even walked through the front gates when Matt, Aaron and Riley wandered off to have a deep and meaningful (you had warned Riley that coming on the trip with Aaron would cause some tension between your group. Thing between you and Aaron were a lot more complicated than the five-night-stand you’d shared last year). Reuben, being his usual womanising self, started flirting with the hot receptionist and not wanting any part of that (last time you wing-womaned for Reuben, the chick thought you were seeking a third), you stepped out for some air.

Now, you’re trying to navigate through the urban maze that is London by yourself, struggling to find your friends who are scattered all over the city.

Slumping against a park chair, you take a deep breath and study your map again. A part of you is screaming at you to swallow your pride and ask for directions but you’re a stubborn New Yorker and if you can effortlessly find your way through the Big Apple, you can tackle London.

“You’re not from around here…” says a masculine voice behind you. You sit up straight, whipping around in the direction of the voice.

Holy fucking cucumber sandwich.

The most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on leans against the trunk of an old oak tree, observing you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He looks like he chomps down magical donuts that grant him sexy powers. You stare.

A cigarette hangs from his kissable, smirking lips. His hair falls gracefully around his face, framing glinting gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He’s wearing a leather jacket and exudes all types mysterious-sexy-bad boy vibes. You’d bet a hundred bucks that he rides a motorcycle too.

Boys with motorcycles are usually trouble.

Your mouth goes a little bit dry.

“Please don’t be a serial killer,” you mutter and the stranger cocks a perfect eyebrow.

“What was that?”

You shake your head, “I mean — Is it that obvious?”

Sexy bad boy stranger shrugs, “I know a lost tourist when I see one.”

“Is this what you do, then? Lurk around parks waiting for lost tourists?”

Bad boy chuckles — a deep growling sound that rumbles at the back of his throat, “Maybe. Maybe I was just walking past and thought I’d help out a pretty girl in need.”

It takes all of your willpower not to blush now.

“So you’re just a Good Samaritan, then.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“What if I want you to go away?”

The handsome, young motorbike guy takes a deliberate step forward, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You swallow. He’s good at this game. Something tells you that you’re not the first victim of his play-boy charms.

Desperately trying to reclaim your composure, you fold your arms across your chest and glare at him.

“What makes you think I need your help?”

British James Dean thinks for one attractive moment, “Well, you don’t have to accept my help but something tells me that if you don’t ask for directions soon, you’re going to end up wandering around London forever.”

He makes a good point.

You stand up from your seat, arms still folded across your chest, “Hypothetically speaking, If I were to accept your help, how would I know that you’re not a perverted serial killer who wants to collect my spleen and leave me in a ditch or something?”

Sexy stranger takes another step forward, “That’d be a shame. You’re too beautiful to kill, and I’m just beginning to like you.”

“That’s exactly what a perverted serial killer would say.”

“Touché. Alright, how about this: I drop you off at your hotel straight away, no detours and no taxi fees that you have to fork out to greedy muggl— erm, I mean, drivers.”

You consider this. He certainly doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Still, it’s hard to trust a charming stranger, especially one as handsome as he is. Then again, if he’s smart — which he definitely is — he’d never kill you in broad daylight in the middle of London.

You uncross your arms and hold one out for him to shake, “Alright, deal.”

Sexy stranger takes your hand and shakes it. His hand is strong and firm and electricity sparks in the warm space where your hands are clasped together.

“Sirius.”

“What?”

“Sirius.”

You blink at him, “Is that some kind of fungal STI that I need to be aware of?”

Sexy stranger chuckles again, “My name is Sirius.”

Sirius? Who the fuck calls their kid Sirius? You have to admit that the name suits him, and the way he says it — in a husky, velvety murmur — gives the name an alluring sex appeal, which sums him up completely.

You consider giving him a fake name but ultimately decide against it. That’s just weird and you can’t lie for shit.

“I’m (Y/N).”

Sirius repeats your name, tasting it on his lips. A more carnal part of you wishes he’d say it in a completely different context.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Sirius smiles, and he practically glows with charisma, “Lets get you home.”

***

You were right, of course. About the motorcycle.

Sirius’ carefully-polished motorbike is almost as sexy as it’s owner; gleaming in the sunlight and flaunting a sleek black paint job with plush leather seats. Several passerby’s stop to admire it (or Sirius, you can’t exactly tell), though Sirius doesn’t pay them any mind. One dudebro with a repugnantly bright tank top gawks at the motorbike while his girlfriend stares hungrily at Sirius.

“I’ve…never ridden a motorcycle before,” you bleat nervously.

Sirius hands you a helmet and smiles.

“Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine.”

Sirius mounts his motorbike and you awkwardly slide in behind him. You’re not sure where to put your hands so you place them on his shoulders. You think you hear Sirius laugh behind his helmet.

Sirius turns the ignition, revs the engine, and kicks the bike into gear.

“You alright back there?” He calls over the roar of the bike.

“Uh—yeah.”

“Hold onto my waist,” he orders, “You’ll be more secure.”

You’re about to protest but then Sirius takes off and you find your arms flying to his waist, gripping on tightly.

It’s exhilarating. Liberating. Intoxicating.

As Sirius weaves between London traffic, you feel a rush of adrenaline pulse through your veins. The air whips past, fluttering around the ruffled trim of your dress. Your hands soak in the warmth of Sirius’ body, his muscles firm beneath your touch.

You pass familiar landmarks and stores you passed when you and your friends took the double-decker bus from your hotel room. You recognise the buildings around you and realise the hotel is just a few kilometres down the street, on the right.

Suddenly, Sirius veers off to the left and zooms down a street you don’t recognise.

“What are you doing? The hotel is up that way!”

“I just have to make a quick stop,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

You clutch onto him, apprehension beginning to claw away at your lower belly. Where is he taking you? How could you have been so stupid to trust an extremely attractive stranger to follow through with a deal?

Sirius slows the bike down until it rolls to a stop and flicks the engine off, climbing off sexily. He helps you clamber awkwardly off the bike and you tear your helmet off, taking in your surroundings for the first time.

You’re next to a footpath with a view of the The Thames, lined with large ornamental pear trees. Its quite a romantic spot with a view of the entire city sitting pretty behind the flowing River Thames.

Sirius tells you to wait by the motorbike and stalks away, rushing toward a boy who looks about your age. He’s tall, has messy black hair, and half-frame glasses. He looks like a sexy professor with the body of an Olympic swimmer that all the girls have crushes on.

Why are all the men here so insanely attractive?

You’re just about to sink into a delightful fantasy of sexy Professor feeding you grapes when Sirius comes up behind you.

“Ready to go?”

You ignore his question, “Who was the god — I mean — guy that you saw?”

Sirius arches an eyebrow. You notice for the first time that there is a scar knitted into it, “That’s James. He’s a total prat, by the way.”

“Sounds like you two have that in common,” you quip and Sirius mocks offence.

“Anyone tell you that you’re cruel?”

“Everyday of my life.”

“Here I was thinking you were just another hot little American bird.”

For one half of a millisecond, your brain snags on the word ‘hot.’ Did he just call you hot? You heard that right? You recover with grace, grinning wickedly.

“You’ll get over it.”

A teasing smirk flirts around the corners of Sirius’ lips, a little crookedly, slanting lazily in a way that makes your cheeks warm. He looks amused by this verbal tug-of-war but also a little turned on.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

“You ever walk along the River Thames?” Sirius asks, sliding his strong, sexy hands into the pocket of his sexy leather jacket. He begins to follow the footpath, leading you past the knots of pigeons and moonstruck lovers.

“No,” you sigh, “Admittedly, I just came along for the underage drinking and the hot British guys.”

Sirius laughs, “How’s that working out for you?”

You shrug, teasing him with a flirtatious smile, “I’m still working on it.”

“If you want,” Sirius begins, clawing at the nape of his neck, “I can help you out with that.”

You quirk a carefully-manicured brow, “What, you know any hot guys like your buddy James?”

Sirius snorts, “I wouldn’t go saying that around his girlfriend.”

“Why, is she the jealous type?”

“No, she’s the ‘try-not-to-make-his-fat-Head-even-fatter’ type.”

You chuckle, intrigue plucking at your mind, “She’s my type of girl.”

“Lily is everyone’s type of girl.”

“Well now I just have to meet her.”

Sirius raises his brows, a spark of hope in his eyes, “Is that your way of telling me that you’re taking me up on the offer for free beer?”

“You never said it was free before.”

“I’m feeling generous.”

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.”

Sirius laughs easily in a way that is completely carefree, as though laughter bubbles just beneath his skin, itching to pour out. It’s mesmerising how he doesn’t seem to take life too seriously.

“You are something else,” he says, letting his eyes catch and linger on yours for a quiet, suspended moment.

A gust of warm, summer wind brings peach blossoms raining down. The gentle coo of a skylark echoes in the distance. Time slows to a stop to stare at the two of you.

He steps forward, like he’s about to kiss you.

You let him.

He tastes like liquor and rebellion, a little wild in a way you’ve never realised you’ve wanted, you’ve needed. His hands are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Your fingers roam through his hair, tangling, tugging, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. You feel drunk on him, your head spinning and your heart thumping, as though it’s trying to tear through your chest and leap into his strong, capable hands. Suddenly, you realise how weird this is. He’s a stranger you’ve known for an hour or so yet now you’re kissing him. It’s as though you’re somehow drawn to him, to his energy, to the way he seems to know you intimately, in ways you hardly know about yourself. You break away, taking a step away from him. Sirius looks like he’s five again and has just had his favourite toy ripped away from him. 

““Are you—?”

Slap

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re slapping him across the cheek, not hard but he feels it. You kissed a stranger. That is a thing you did. You also slapped said stranger, partly because of impulse and partly because you’re terrified of how quickly your feelings are beginning to stir for someone you hardly know. Sirius is stunned, silent, staring at you with shock and hurt that stings you more than it should. You stare back, drawn in by every fleck of colour in his eyes, suddenly aware that, sure, he may be a stranger but that doesn’t mean he has to stay one. Obviously, you have a connection.

 So…connect.

 You crash your lips against his again, throwing your arms around his neck. 

Your friends can wait. You’ve found yourself a new tour guide.