#and before looking at it i thought i could do all of the topics on it

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet

𝐚/𝐧: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10k

Fuck, you thought the moment you realized you’d woken up in someone’s arms.

Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasn’t some random guy you met at a club, the kind who’d bought you a drink, whose name you hadn’t even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworker—a teammate you saw almost every single day.

Triple fuck.

Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.

You were up to five fucks already, and you hadn’t even left the bed yet.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, you’d already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.

You’d been perfecting this strategy for years. First, you’d lose yourself in strangers’ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what you’d felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.

This situation shouldn’t have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, you’d never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldn’t just ghost without consequence. People you—leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table—were supposed to see again in less than an hour!

You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only you’d been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But no—when all of this started, you’d been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, it’s worth mentioning.

Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs—carefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.

Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.

The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean body—his prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where you’d been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.

What a shame it was only a one-time thing.

Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body.  When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didn’t feel as good as usual, your heart wasn’t racing, and the adrenaline wasn’t surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.

You’d had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.

It wasn’t an exception, and the fact that you worked together didn’t change a thing.

It wasn’t an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.

“Are we not greeting each other anymore?” someone’s question snapped you back to reality.

Lost in thought, you realized you’d passed your friend Elle’s desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharp—sometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.

"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."

Elle pushed you away by a finger’s length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talking—who's the guy?"

“What guy?” someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. “Well, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you had a nice weekend?”

"From that huge cup of coffee, I’m guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker. 

His eyebrows shot up.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.

"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter. 

You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. They’d started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about it—they just really liked to tease you.

It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.

"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didn’t even have time to dry it?"

"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, they’d actually have to talk to each other."

“Oh, screw you both,” you muttered, aiming to act your age—in this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.

“You know,” he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, “I can’t help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...”

"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I don’t know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesn’t it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you don’t pry into people’s bedrooms or wallets."

"That rule doesn’t apply to our friendship, sweetheart."

You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didn’t feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then. 

It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.

"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but I’ll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."

"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.

"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"

Elle glanced around and shrugged.

"I don’t see him. Besides, if he were here, he’d already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."

"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I can’t remember the last time he was late."

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.

"It’s not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."

"He’s definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "I’m almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldn’t we be heading out?"

You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.

Elle, who knew you better than anyone.

Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.

Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.

"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "We’ll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."

Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:

"Did you sleep with Reid?!"

"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.

"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."

"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"

"I’m fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"

To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

"You know I wouldn’t tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, there’s always been something between you…”

"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."

"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"

"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."

You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.

"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didn’t meet your expectations..."

"End of discussion..."

"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"

You couldn’t keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.

"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.

Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.

Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elle’s face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.

You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contact—arguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.

"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. He’s... a huge fan of... ties."

You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.

"So, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you bought it. That’s exactly the kind of tie I’m looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that you’d just want to untie..."

Hotch’s completely stoic expression didn’t help.

"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"

"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.

Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.

"Let’s get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."

Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.

"I’d be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.

You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You won’t believe this…” and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.

Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasn’t entirely true. One of them was missing.

"Reid’s late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.

"Let’s start without him," Hotch decided. "This can’t wait. JJ?"

She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed.  Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.

"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."

He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.

"You could’ve informed us you’d be late," Hotch said.

Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.

"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."

At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you — you would have heard it… which, of course, didn’t mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocket…

"I forgot my phone."

Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...

“I’ll look for it for you,” he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. “I mean, I’ll help you look for it. If you want…”

“Reid, please, sit down,” Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. “And close the door.”

“Right…”

He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didn’t react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.

Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all night…

The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.

“Thank god,” you sighed as the door opened. “Elle isn’t picking up at all. I have no idea what she’s doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I don’t bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.”

Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.

“I’m glad I could help,” he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. “But I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t throw you out just for being one day late.”

“I’ve been putting it off for three weeks.”

“That definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. “I’m really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didn’t manage to…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand reassuringly. “I should’ve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since you’re inviting me, I’m coming in. I’ve never been to your place before.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.

You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your ears—a melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.

“What?” Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. “Oh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it off…”

“No!” You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. “Don’t you dare. History’s Mysteries is my favorite show.”

Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial life—deep down, you’d always been a bit of a nerd.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.

“What?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think just because I’m hot, I can’t have any intellectual interests?”

He widened his eyes, shaking his head.

"Don't put those words in my mouth. I’d never say—or even think—something like that."

"That I’m hot?"

"No! What? I mean… I wouldn’t assume you couldn’t have intellectual interests just because you’re…"

"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, I’m just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I don’t know, a lab or something."

"Well, so far, you’ve only seen the living room," he replied.

"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."

You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Unless, of course, you don’t want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"

"No, no, I’m not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable, but it was there. "You’re absolutely not bothering me. Actually, it’ll be... it’ll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I should—I'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"

 "...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."

You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.

You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.

"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"

"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.

You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.

Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.

 “Doesn’t it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?” Morgan continued.

 “Actually, he didn’t have to do it personally,” Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. “Under different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and that’s it.”

You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilled…

The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.

With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphere—otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.

"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.

"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."

"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"

"Sorry, It’s just my thing”

You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.

"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "I’ve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."

"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"

“I just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?”

“That’s the same to me. I need softness.”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.”

“The episode is starting.”

“I’ll be back in a second…”

“Oh, and then you’ll complain you can’t talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,” you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. “Sit. I’ll survive the neck pain. Or… or I’ll just lie down here.”

Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.

 “What did the autopsy reveal?” Elle asked. “Did the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?”

You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.

“They were all alive when they were thrown into the water,” JJ said with tightly pressed lips. “And each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.”

“That’s how he abducts them,” Derek summarized. “Knocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.”

“The question is, why specifically the lake’s ice hole?” you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. “Is it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victims—it felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, you’d told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.

For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.

"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe they’re purging society in some way. Since we’ve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."

"That’s a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, we’re likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe they’re acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."

"And that, in turn, means they won’t stop killing until they’re caught," Gideon concluded.

"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."

Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.

But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it away…

"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wanted…to ask how you're doing."

You shrugged, forcing indifference.

"Fine, I guess."

You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.

"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."

"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated this—hated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didn’t mean anything to you, that you didn’t want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Spencer—your friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldn’t afford to lose, especially since you worked together.

Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone else’s bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like you’d tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.

"There’s nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small space—so much like last night—settled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it might’ve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"

He didn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on him—his shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.

Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even… sarcasm?

"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"

You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didn’t want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorry—actually, you looked at me only once”

"What did you expect, that I’d throw myself at you and kiss you?"

"No, I expected that we’d talk about it like normal people."

"But there’s nothing to talk about. It happened, and that’s it. I don’t see any reason we should have to debate about it..."

Spencer wasn’t angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.

"I don’t understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"

“No,” you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. “Well… I don’t regret it in the way you might think. It’s just… I’m not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

“I don’t want you to offer me anything,” he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didn’t seem to be directed at you. “The only thing I want is… to understand where we stand now. Look, we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked me…”

“Because I do like you,” you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I don’t do relationships. And just so you know, I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I can’t undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when I’m with you. And up until now, I’ve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I don’t want anything to change."

You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that he’d understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.

"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed with me."

"Listen, sex doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical act, it doesn’t affect our friendship in any way."

 "Do you really believe that?"

“Yes, I do,” you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.

He wouldn’t have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasn’t that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.

“Well, good for you,” he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.

For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.

But was it the same for you two?

Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.

Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.

Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.

"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.

You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.

"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.

"But why aren’t you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.

He shrugged.

"You’re straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.

Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.

"I... I don’t exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.

After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.

"You must be joking."

"What?"

"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."

"You know, I’m fully aware you’re saying this just to get me to wear them?"

"True, you got me. Did it work?"

"Not really."

You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.

"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "I’ll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, you’ll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."

He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldn’t. He sighed and handed you the glasses.

"Don’t..."

"Don’t grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "I’m not some animal."

With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.

"I’m waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.

"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"

"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I haven’t”

Listen, it’s very simple, but you’d better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.

"I’m focused."

Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.

"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I don’t like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."

Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.

"Don’t interrupt me for now, I’m not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in them…" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didn’t take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractive”

You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.

“Do you really mean that?”

Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.

“That’s the theory. And I… I agree with it. I even have another example. You won’t deny that I’m hot, right? It’s just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So… when I put on glasses…” Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..“Well? How do I look?”

He didn’t answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.

“Spencer,” you prompted, “I asked how I look.”

He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.

“Smart,” he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. “Now you look really smart.”

You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.

“Smart,” you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. “That confirms the theo—…”

You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer. 

The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.

In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.

It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.

An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.

“Spencer? What is it? “

After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.

“Didn’t expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe it’s my fault” You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.

"Spencer, I want you to answer me."

When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.

You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.

“I want this” he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. “I really, really want this, please…”

But was it the same for you two? 

You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come. 

You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answer 

*

"Please don’t tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."

"Disgusting, Elle, you’re just disgusting."

Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if you’d just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didn’t suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.

"What exactly did you tell him?"

"That I don’t date and I’m not looking for anything serious."

"You just told him that?"

"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"

"It’s not about that, it’s just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didn’t seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didn’t say it that directly, right? Don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of... cruel."

Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.

"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didn’t know?"

She sighed.

"Probably not, and that’s why I think I’m having some sort of moral crisis."

You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.

Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.

Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.

“Where the hell are they?” you asked through chattering teeth.

As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.

“I’d just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldn’t rain,” Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.

You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didn’t even have pockets, and you started wondering why you’d even bought it in the first place.

“This is not the time to point fingers at me,” you retorted. “This is the time to make sure I don’t die of hypothermia. Come closer. And don’t stand so close to the railing.”

“We’re nearly two meters away from it,” he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.

“Jesus, it’s like touching an ice cube,” he muttered.

“You still have feeling in your hands?”

“Still do, but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” he replied.

“They’ll freeze and have to be amputated. We’ll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,” you joked.

He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silence—him staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.

“Can I ask you a question?” he broke the silence, looking down at you.

You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you afraid of water?”

You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I noticed today—though, of course, there’s a possibility I’m wrong. But we’ve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you haven’t looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.”

“I’m just looking out for your safety, klutz,” you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.

“When I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s brows furrowed with concern.

“At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” you added before he could say anything. “Apparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didn’t account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.”

“God,” he sighed. “You know… maybe it’s for the better that you don’t remember it. At least not exactly.”

 “Maybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I don’t have a single memory of that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.”

 “Your body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didn’t you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?”

 “I did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isn’t that for us?”

After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didn’t even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.

Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.

“We have the unsub’s identity,” he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.

The rest of the team had already gathered. Reid’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He wasn’t looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.

“What?” you blurted, surprised. “How?”

“He abducted another victim, but this time he wasn’t as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.”

“I don’t understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?” Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.

Her question echoed in your mind.

“He thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitution—a sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,” you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.

“The unsub might even think he’s doing them a favor,” Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. “That he’s their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?

“We need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We don’t have much time; it’s getting dark,” Hotch issued commands quickly. “Gideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, and…”

“I should go with you,” Reid interrupted. “Elle can go with Morgan, and…”

“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyone’s. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.

“He’s here. Do you see him? He’s dragging her toward the hole in the ice!”

Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mind—the obvious fact that you’d have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.

“The ice won’t break, do you understand?” he said, not letting go of your arm. “It’s thick enough that cars can drive on it. “It’s safe, trust me. And if you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” 

His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.

You didn’t have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the water—cold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.

Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.

“If you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” echoed in your mind.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch while the victim’s life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.

And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.

You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.

“It’s me,” Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadn’t they slipped before?

“Hey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It won’t break,” he reassured you.

He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadn’t he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction? 

Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.

“I could be furious with you, but I wouldn’t leave you there, alone and scared,” he said.

You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.

In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.

It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.

*

You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.

"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, it’s definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, he’s probably going to fire me."

"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, it’s probably some overdue paperwork..."

"You’re not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.

Elle’s laugh mixed with her yawn.

"God, I’m exhausted from this day. I’m out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.

You briefly hugged her with one arm.

"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.

Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.

It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.

Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.

"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.

The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t alone—across from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principal’s office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.

"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"

"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.

You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as before. That didn’t, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.

"Listen, I’m just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."

You shook your head in confusion.

"Resolve what?" Reid asked.

"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I don’t care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."

You couldn’t help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elle’s expression on the other end of the phone when you’d tell her the real reason behind this summons…

 "Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.

 Spencer nodded enthusiastically.

 "Absolutely none. Never."

 "I'm not blind or, as you’re both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any conflict in my team."

You let out a snort.

 "So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"

 He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certain—absolutely certain—that deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.

 "No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"

"Isn’t this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.

"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."

His hand landed on the doorknob without a moment’s hesitation.

 "Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."

You could’ve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.

 You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.

 And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.

[sun-flower-children]

Academic Rivals! Viktor x Reader

Academy Student!Viktor x gn!Reader

Here's my take on this idea that has been rumbling around my brain especially with all the new viktor fics ( yall are doing the lords work)

not proof read + a lot longer than I thought it would be, sorry lmao

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

You were the Academy's top student known to be the top of the class with the highest scores always exceeding expectations.

Your creative thinking and problem solving is what normally got you the spotlight of attention within academia.

Naturally after spending your first two years of the Academy eating up the attention and receiving offers from multiple elite members of society, industry and government certainly made your resume/reputation an intimidating one.

Your peers knew you to be competitive and ambitious wanting to be the one to set the curve; extensive research projects, etc.

This did however make you a poor teammate with your passionate ideas that one of them could dream of keeping up with you. Plus you would steal the leadership role from them to implement the changes you'd want.

You had gotten used to pattern created for you with a bright future ahead.

Even if you were getting kind of bored of knowing that your worst idea would still allow you to keep your rank.

Then all the sudden a new student joins the Academy

It didn't bother you much until you started seeing a drop in your scores and ranking thus creating a rivalry with this mysterious student.

It was not until you and Viktor shared a class that you realized who your academic opponent was

Thus starting a new chapter of your academic career with renewed passion upon knowing there was finally someone that could equal you in skill.

Fighting for everything within the academic realm that was available

Now neither of you had ever officially been introduced or carried a proper conversation instead replacing regular communication with pointed looks of smugness or confidence.

You would have angry fits in private realizing the margin that you had lost to Viktor

Long days and nights spent gaining a potential advantage over your rival.

Your friends would point out how you would almost pop a vein just describing the way that he would "usurp the first place on an exam all because of a technicality"

Honestly when you would get really into it you were sure that you hated this guy: coming out of nowhere with no prior history and just takes over everything you have worked hard to establish.

Who does he think he is????

Now all your professors, namely Himerdinger paid close attention to this rivalry. It's entertaining watching your top 2 students hash it out and creating things they would not have without this push.

Himerdinger seeing how honed in your other skills were decided to create a project for the class specifically targeting you both.

A partnered project

One that could not change neither the topic, the partner or the day that it was to be presented; everything set in stone.

" Learning the skills needed in a lab is one thing but the most important and impactful discoveries have always been those created through teamwork." Himerdinger would share one fateful day as he put up the paper listing the groups.

It did not even cross your mind that you would have been paired with Viktor and after looking at the poster turned around a looked at him.

Viktor was still sitting in his front row seat in the lecture room patiently waiting for the crowd to dissipate before getting up to look at the paper.

He continued to wrap up whatever notes he had taken as you step up to him.

"We are assigned partners for this project." you say very matter a factly.

Viktor looks up to you with a small smile," Well then, we should set up times to work on the project together. What times work best for you?"

You were taken aback by his nonchalance.

Did he really not care that he was partnered with you? Did he not see you as significant enough to mention the obvious tension? Did he not even see you as a rival but a regular student below him???

After a short pause you share what time you are normally at the library.

As you share the details he finished packing up his stuff.

Looking back up to with another slightly bigger smile (what is his game???) " I'll see you then. Tomorrow at table four."

With that he leans on his cane and leaves you in the quiet empty classroom to deliberate your next moves.

That night you started working on the project creating multiple schemes, ideas, and conceptual ideas that could be used for the project put forth.

You went to bed hoping to finally force him to recognize you as the rival that you were as he seemed so dismissive before.

You showed up to the library at the arranged time to see Viktor sitting peacefully at a study table thumbing through multiple volumes seemingly looking for a specific piece of information.

"Good Morning." you started as you walked up to him.

Without even looking up he returns the same early day greeting and places yet another volume aside and opening a new one.

Raising an eyebrow that the attitude you place your things on the other side of the table.

"I was thinking last night about this project and had written down some ideas that I believe that we should pick from as our approach." you open the discussion with no changed behavior from your supposed teammate.

You continue, " I have already taken the liberty to research them, for your convenience, and have supplied preliminary data for each one. Honestly any of these would resolve the problem raised by our projects prompt with their main difference being how creative you wanted to get with it."

Viktor has created yet another pile of abandoned books that didn't meet his mysterious criteria all the while not regarding you properly.

Your felt your self becoming more warmer as you felt the irritation pool into the oil pit of anger you have created surrounding him.

"It's considered polite to respond or at the very least acknowledge when someone is talking to you. Or are you so focused on your book hunt you aren't ever looking at the person you are supposed to be completing this project with."

Viktor sighs putting the book currently in his possession down and looks up to you.

"It was not my intention to be rude I am just looking for a specific volume that has a unique perspective on the concept we learned a week ago but the title is slipping my mind."

Sighing you sit down and observe the collection of books created on the table.

"I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that you only really remember that the color of the book was dark blue?"

Viktor chuckled," Observant and yes I am."

"Well you aren't going to find it in the library considering there is only one copy of it. That author's take was considered almost heretic."

"Ah, so you are familiar with the book I am referencing?"

"It would be strange if I didn't considering that I brought it with me to our meeting. I checked it out a week ago because it piqued my interest and also happened to align with this assignment."

You hold it out over the table as Viktor sighs again running a hand through his hair.

The meeting ended up going on for longer than expected.

You were surprised to find that he has a similar perspective to yours and understood your vision from the multiple proposals that you had created.

Further analysis showed some minor flaws that would otherwise be overlooked by other people; but neither of you too were not going to settle for anything less than perfection.

The more that the two of you poured over ideas, equations, concepts, and plans until you came up with a path that pleased you both with only one variable that needing some testing.

Viktor offered to go his smaller private study that he had already set up a similar experiment (he was also trying ideas out the night before)

Walking side by side down the hallways was a strange feeling.

Not because you were walking slower that your default rushed walking pace but because this person that you had, honestly, really hated and rationalized that was cheating somehow....wasn't.

You hated to admit it as you continued to listen to his rambling on of the missing component that they needed to figure out.

(Shit...he is actually just naturally brilliant)

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

part 1 | part 2 >

[barcarsenal12]

Girls like Girls pt 2

summary: after her talk with her teammates, r begins to reckon with the changes to her identity. A huge invasion of her privacy leads to a very upsetting, very public reveal. Luckily, her teammates are there to pick up the pieces.

TW: coming out, questioning sexuality, panic attack, pg13: making out

The days and weeks after your breakdown were easier. It felt like a release-- like you needed to pull the plug, and  all of your emotions out before you could start to reconcile. You started to come back from the panic that had gripped your body, and you found your footing in football again. 

Still, you were constantly aware that something had shifted within you. Sometimes that knowledge would threaten to overwhelm you, othertimes it felt inconsequential, but it always sat like a weight in your stomach. 

Mapi, Ingrid and Alexia kept an awkwardly close eye on you for a little while. That very first afternoon, when they held you on the locker room floor, Alexia brought you home with her and tucked you into her spare bedroom. She refused to leave your side until she could see that your thoughts had settled. In the days that followed, they seemed to have collectively decided to give you space. They checked in on you daily, but never brought up your sexuality, as if they wanted you to initiate any conversation on the topic. You found yourself in their presence more and more. The four of you started to spend more time together outside of training. You felt so loved, but at the same time a little embarrassed for making something as teeny as your sexuality such a big deal. They didn’t seem to have such issues with their own sexualities, after all. 

Still, being around 3 women who were so deeply in love with other women helped you more than you could tell them. As you began to settle in with your new identity, you began to seak out their support.  

--- 

Two weeks after your realization, you found yourself on Mapi and Ingrid’s couch, tucked snugly into Alexia’s side. A movie was playing, but it was late, and you were fairly certain that Mapi and Ingrid were both sound asleep. They were curled up on the other end of the sofa, and both seemed to be breathing heavily. Alexia’s arm was around you, and you would have thought that she was asleep, too, if not for the mindless way that she played with your hair. 

“Ale?” You whispered into the dark, figuring that if she didn’t hear you would just drop it. 

“Hm?” She hummed back.

“Can I talk to you?” 

Alexia hand in your hair stopped, and she slowly reached for the remote to pause the movie before pulling away from your grip to see your face. 

“Always,” She looked at you with concern. 

You glanced nervously at Mapi and Ingrid, who were very clearly asleep. “I think that I’m definitely gay.” You whispered, almost as if it was a secret. 

Alexia laughed quietly, and reached up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Ok, neña.”

“Like, I think all the way.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You think that you are a lesbian?”

You bit your lip, and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” 

She pulled you into her, resting your back against her body again. “I think that I am too.” She whispered back. You could hear her grin, and you laughed, too, and flicked her leg. “I’m glad that you are figuring it out. I know that this is very scary.” She said, still quietly. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking down, “can I ask you a question?”

“Okay.” 

“How did you know?” You asked.

“That I was gay?” She confirmed, and you hummed in response. 

“I was young, I started to catch feelings for Jenni.” She started. “I wasn’t sure if I liked her as a friend or as more,” she continued, “but one day she kissed me.” 

You giggled, and Alexia poked you in the side. “Callarse or I’m never going to tell you things ever again.” 

You covered your mouth. 

“She kissed me, and I realized that it was definitely more than friends.” She exhaled sharply. “Mapi was already out, so it was easy for me to follow her path.”

You nodded. 

“Do you like someone, pequeña?”

You thought for a moment that you were talking about crushes with your captain. It crossed your mind that you should be embarrassed, but somehow here, in the dark, you weren’t 

“No, but I think I might like to find a girlfriend.” 

Alexia pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Just pick someone good for you. I never liked your boyfriends.” 

“I will,” you laughed, “Thank you, Ale.” 

---

It was another two weeks before you found yourself at a club Before long, you were past tispy and had made no complaints when a pretty girl began to lead you outside, away from your friends. You suddenly felt woefully unprepared, as if you had never even had your first kiss, and your heart almost beat out of your chest as she pulled you into the alley behind the bar. 

She reached for you, her finger tips tracing your jaw and the back of your ear before tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. You could feel her breath on your face, and you thought that you might pass out from the anticipation. She was gentle, though, and she leaned in slowly, brushing your lips with her own before pulling back. You followed her, leaning forward as she pulled away. 

“I-” You started, but were cut off as she leaned back towards you, kissing you with a slow intesity that no man had ever been able to give you. Her hands were in your hair, and yours were tracing her spine, and you were melting into her, disintegrating, and you were sure that your legs were giving out, but somehow you were still standing. 

She must have sensed that you were struggling to hold your weight because a minute later you were pressed against the wall of the bar. You gasped as your back collided with the bricks, and she took the opportunity to push her tongue between your lips. The world around you disappeared as all of your outside senses dulled, as if turning all of their energy to this girl in your arms. 

She pulled back and began pressing feather light kisses to your jaw. She traced her way down to your neck, and you brought your hand up to the back of her head, pushing her closer to you. You moaned as she left a mark, and pulled her back up to find her lips with your own again. you pressed your knee between her legs and she groaned into your mouth, pushing you back against the wall and deepening your kiss. 

You jolted apart at the sound of your phone ringing. You flipped it over, and sighed at the sight of Mapi’s name on it’s screen. 

“I have to take this,” you apologized, voice full of regret. 

She leaned closer to you. “Ok,” she whispered in your ear. You swallowed, and your hand shook as you brought your phone up to your ear. 

“Hey Mapi,” you mumbled, hoping that your voice wasn’t wobbling. 

“Hey nena” Mapi responded. As she spoke, the girls against you began to kiss your collarbone, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady. 

“What’s up?” You asked.  

“Nothing much. Just checking in.” The girl’s hand traveled down your body, and you gasped as she reached the waistband of your pants. You tilted your head back against the wall, trying to keep your composure. 

“I’m fine.” You said, knowing that fewer words were better right now. 

“Ok,” Mapi said, suspicious, “Do you need a ride to training tomorrow?”

You closed your eyes, and tried to focus your mind, but the girls fingers were now brushing over the cloth of pants between your legs, and your head felt like mush. “Sure, Mapi that would be great. Listen, I need to go. Have a good night.” You hung up the phone before Mapi could respond, and brought your attention back to the girl. She brought her mouth back up to yours, and you groaned as she removed her hand, brushing her fingers across your cheek. 

“Come back to mine?” She whispered, her voice a question. 

You sighed. As drunk on her as you were, you knew that you couldn’t have a one night stand with training the next day. 

“I can’t,” you breathed. She frowned at you. 

“Can I at least get your number?” She asked, and you nodded happily. 

“Would you want to get dinner sometime?” You asked, like her tongue hadn’t just been inside your mouth. 

She laughed as you put your number into her phone. “Sure. I’ll text you.” 

She kissed you one last time, the walked off to find her friends. You took a moment to compose yourself, before staring the short walk back to your apartment. 

---

When you got home, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your face was flushed, your hair was messy, and you pressed a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing out loud. 

---

It was Ingrid that saw the news article first. She didn’t make it a habit to check football news, especially not the tabloids, but she happened to stumble upon the pictures posted by a fan account on instagram. Her eyes widened at the photos and she quickly scanned the attached news piece. The initial shock of seeing you with someone, when she hadn’t even know that you were thinking about dating or starting to experiment with women, faded as she realized what this would mean for you. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing to herself and wondering how the world could be so cruel. Ingrid picked up her phone and clicked on your contact. When the phone rang out, she grabbed her car keys and ran out her door. 

Today was an away game, but because both Ingrid and you were sidelined with minor injuries, you had both stayed home. Mapi and Alexia, on the other hand, were on the bus heading home. As Ingrid started to pull out of her driveway, she connected her phone to her car speaker and dialed Mapi. When Mapi didn’t pick up, she called Alexia, who thankfully picked up on the first ring. 

“Ale”, she sighed out. 

“Hola,” Alexia responded, “Is everything ok?”

“Have you been on instagram?” Ingrid asked.

“No.” Alexia said. “Why?”

“It’s Y/N”. Ingrid answered. She waited a moment, as Alexia opened instagram and was immediately looking at pictures of your face. 

“Mierda,” Alexia mumbled, “How quickly can you get to her?” 

“I’m on my way,” Ingrid responded. 

--- 

You had never in your life felt this kind of fear. It crashed over you, in wave after wave that slowly broke you down. You had seen the post on instagram, instantly recognizing yourself, the girl,  and the bar that you were at that night. This part of you that was so raw, so fresh, so not ready to be shared, had been thrust into the world. Now the waves were pulling on you. They were pushing you down, down, underwater, where you surely would drown. You couldn’t remember how to breath properly, and you were suddenly aware of the fact that you would probably never breath again. 

This was it. This was where you drowned. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the knocking, but all of your senses were dulled. You couldn’t hear anything past the waves crashing over your head and stealing the air from your lungs.

 You suddenly couldn’t even remember what you were so worried about in the first place. All that you knew was the anxiety that consumed your entire body. You were dying. Of course you were. This was it. 

--- 

When Ingrid realized that you were not going to open you front door, she frantically started to search for your spare key. She checked the doormat and the mailslot before finally finding it tucked away above your doorframe. She sighed with relief, and quickly shoved her way into your home. 

“Y/N?” She called, but got no answer. She poked her head into your kitchen, and upon seeing you curled into a ball, heaving with unfinished breaths, dropped her things and kneeled down before you. 

“Sweetheart,” She said, although she was sure that you couldn’t hear her. Every part of your body was shaking. She wasn’t sure that you could even be considered crying, you couldn’t seem to get enough air into your lungs to form sobs. You were wrapped around yourself, gasping desperately for air. 

“Kjære,” Ingrid tried again, tapping lightly at your hand, “Can you hear me? I need you to breath.” When you didn’t respond again, she grabbed your face and connected your eyes, trying hopelessly to get through to you. She had never felt so helpless. 

Ingrid’s phone rang, and she picked it up immediately. 

“Maria,” She said.

“Ingrid? Are you with her? Is she ok?” “Si, I’m with her. I don’t know what to do, Maria, nothing’s helping.” She said desperately. 

“What’s wrong?” Mapi asked. 

“Shes-” Ingrid took a breath, “I’ve never seen a panic attack this bad in my life. I don’t know how to help her.” 

Mapi inhaled sharply, “She’s having a panic attack?” 

“Yeah,” Ingrid confirmed, and heard rapid spanish and a loud exclamation on the other end as Mapi passed the information to Alexia. 

“Mapi, help,” Ingrid said, on the verge of tears herself as she watched your body fold further in on itself.

“Breathe, amor. Don’t freak out.” Mapi said. Ingrid refrained from pointing out that Mapi seemed an awful lot like she was freaking out. “Ale and I just got off the bus. We’ll drive straight there, 15 minutes tops. 

Ingrid sighed in relief. “Ok.” 

“You’re doing everything right, Cariño. We’ll be there soon.”  

“Please hurry.” 

---

Alexia could not sit still as Mapi drove them towards your home. Her knees bounced and her hands ran through her hair, and she tried to prepare herself for what she would see when she got to you, tried to think of what she could do to make this better. Mapi, on the other hand, had never felt this much rage in her life. She remembered your fears, and to see them coming to life sent waves of anger through her body. 

Mapi pulled in to your driveway, and barely put the car in park before Alexia was throwing the door open and barreling towards your apartment. Mapi caught up to her as she pushed your front door open. 

“Y/n?” Alexia called, “Ingrid?”

“In here!” Ingrid responded from the kitchen. 

They followed her voice, and Alexia let out a short gasp when she saw you, curled in on yourself, still gasping for breath. She fell to her knees in fron of you, quickly taking you into her arms. 

Mapi took in the scene in front of her and went straight to Ingrid, who looked wrecked. Mapi pulled her into a hug. “Has she gotten any better?” She whispered into Ingrid’s dark hair. 

“No,” Ingrid whispered against her shoulder, “She’s been like this since I got here.” 

Alexia’s full attention was on you, trying every trick that she knew to get you to calm down. 

“Chica?” She said, taking your face between her hands. “Can you hear me?” 

You weren’t real anymore. You didn’t think that you ever had been real. You were still tumbling, desperately stuck in your mind. Somewhere, you registered muffled voices and felt hands on your skin, but the waves of panic pushed you over again and again, forcing you back underwater. You had little breath to waste on trying to speak, but you so desperately needed help, before you life surely ended. Already, the edges of your vision were getting hazier. 

“Ayudame,” you rasped out, and Alexia felt her heart break. 

“I’ve got you. I have you, mi nina.” She said, frantically pulling you back into her. 

“Ale, she needs to breath,” Ingrid said, “or she’s going to pass out.” 

Alexia looked back at her, tears of frustration threatening to fall. “I don’t know what to do.” She said, desperately. She squeezed you tight, praying that the pressure would get through to you. You continued to squirm, fully gasping for air now. 

All at once, your body sagged against her, your eyes fluttering closed. Finally, your breathing evened out. 

“Nena?” She said, tapping your cheeks with her fingertips, before looking at Ingrid and Mapi in panic. 

“It’s ok,” Mapi exhaled shakily, “her body did what it needed to.” 

--- 

When you woke, it took a moment before you could place yourself. You delicately pried your eyes open, and quickly realized that you weren’t alone. Someone’s hands were combing through your hair. Ingrid’s, you realized. You were leaned against her, stretching across your couch. Alexia was sat in the chair across from you, her head in her hands. Mapi was here too, sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the couch by your feet. . 

Your first thought was to be worried about how upset Alexia looked. Then, the memory of what had happened crashed over you again. You closed your eyes, hoping to stay here, where you felt so impossibly safe, for as long as possible. You must have moved, though, because Ingrid was softly calling in your ear. 

“Neña?”

You opened your eyes again and met her gaze. She exhaled in relief, her shoulders sagging, and you flushed guiltily, realizing how much you had worried your friends. “Hi, Ing.” 

Alexia jumped up at your voice and was beside you in a second. “Y/N,” she said, running a hand across your sweaty forehead, “how are you feeling?” 

You shrugged and pushed yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the question. “When did you guys get here?” You asked. 

“A few hours ago,” Mapi chimed in from the doorway to your kitchen, “You were a little--” she cut herself off,  “you weren’t feeling so well.” 

“Neña,” Alexia said seriously, touching your hand lightly, “have you ever had a panic attack like that before?”

You shook your head, not meeting her eyes. She sat on the couch beside you, pulling you into her and pressing a kiss into your head. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, mi nina. You never have to be embarrassed.”

You sunk into her side. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” she whispered to you, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You didn’t need to ask her to clarify, your eyes already filling up with tears. “I just, I so wasn’t ready for the world to know. I was just trying something… new, and now everyone knows, and I didn't even get to choose to tell them or not.” You paused, brushing a tear from your cheek. “It feels so personal, so private. I only just figured this out, and I needed more time to be able to explore it by myself.” 

“I know, cariño,” Alexia said, “It is so unfair that this happened to you.” 

You turned your head, catching Ingrid’s eye. “Do you think the team will be mad?” 

She laughed, and smiled at you. “Mad? Elskling, they will be thrilled.”  

“You don’t have to worry about being the odd one out there,” Mapi chimed in, but you noticed that her smile was too tight. 

You smiled back, but another tear rolled down your cheek. 

“Is there something else?” Alexia asked you, brushing the tear from your cheek. 

“I just--” you looked away, swallowing sharply, “there were a couple comments that freaked me out.” 

Alexia’s face dropped, “oh, neña.” She was, of course, not stranger to homophobic comments, but remembered too well how much the first ones had hurt. “What did they say?” 

“They were dming me, calling me gross and saying that they would… make me like guys,” All three of the women around you sucked in a sharp breath, and you continued quickly. “I know that I don’t know them, and I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it just, I guess it just--” 

“Y/N,” Ingrid interrupted you, “you know that you’re safe, right?” 

You nodded. “I know that they can’t get to me, but the fact that they want to--” 

Alexia took a deep breath, and when she spoke her voice was sharp. “That’s really, really scary. Those are awful people. You are not gross, and you are protected from people like that. Do you hear me?”

“Si, Ale,” you nodded, surprised by her tone, “I hear you.” 

Mapi suddenly pushed her way to her feet, and walked into the kitchen. 

Ingrid watched her go, and smiled at you before standing up to follow her.

You looked at Alexia in surprise. 

“She is just angry. Really, really angry at the people saying these things to you. I don’t think that she wants you to see her mad.”

You nodded slowly, and sat in silence while Alexia ran her hand up and down your back. A minute later, Mapi and Ingrid walked back in and sat down across from you. Mapi clutched Ingrid’s hand. “I’m sorry, neña, I know that you are so strong, but it just makes me very upset to see you being treated this way.” 

“I don’t want to make you upset.” 

“You could never make me upset. They make me upset, the people saying these things to you, and you so don’t deserve it. I know that this sucks. But we’re here for you, ok?” She said,

“Ok,” you responded, looking around and meeting the eyes of each of the women around you, “thank you,” you whispered. 

You smiled at Alexia, and she smiled back, and you felt so, so, endlessly grateful to be surrounded by so much love. 

A/N: I know that is has been a while!! I finally found the motivation for this. Sorry not sorry.

[b0njourbeach]

NRC LGBTQIA+ HCs

Those are only my thoughts and you can agree with them but you don't have to. We are all different and have our own visions. I'm quite willing to discuss or explain my visions - If you're being polite enough, I've got no time for drama. I will use He/Him for everyone - no matter what I have as a HC - because of the canon and it might be confusing for others (I, for one, often have to take a "Wait, why she?"-moment until I realize it's a HC.)

Riddle Rosehearts

He waits for the "right woman" that would "please his mothers wish". After meeting the students in NRC, especially Cater, he is curious and questioning his previous thought about being Cis/Het. Might find interest in all pronouns. I could also see him having to be more feminine because his mother wanted a girl (which could imply him having trouble with gender as a whole).

Ace Trappola

I think it's canon that he's not too fond of romantic love, so I do believe he'd be most comfortable seeing himslf as aromantic. As for the rest: He's your average cis male teenager who makes too many dick jokes for his lack of experience (but would consider himself as allosexual). Will throw hands and sees it as an insult if you call him a girl tho.

Deuce Spade

Like Mother, like son - Both Spades are bisexual in my eyes. Deuce used to be homophobic in his delinquent times but changed for the better (and realized that he disliked the idea of gay people because they "always look so happy"). Had multiple "What if"s regarding his gender (Including asking Mama Spade to treat him like her daughter for a bit, so Deuce could get a feeling for it) but it felt too weird, so he still identifies himself with his assigned gender (male) at birth - But doesn't mind it if people use they/them for him. Would be your average nervous Teenager when it comes to showing affection in any way and will blush brightly at the topic of naughty stuff.

Trey Clover

Didn't give it much thought ("If I like a person, I like them" type of mindset but had no particular romantic feelings before) before entering NRC - Where he had his first guy crush which rocked his world a little. Constantly questioning "Am I gay, bi or pan?", but his first and only crush doesn't really help and is actually the reason for his questioning in the first place. Hasn't come out at all and doesn't plan on it because he grew up that the genders of people in a relationship doesn't matter and his parents would support him as long as he's happy. "I was born as a guy, so I'm a guy, I guess. I don't really care if you use she/her for me. It'll be just a bit confusing for me at first" type of guy. After one of the night talks with Cater, he got curious about poly-relationships.

Cater Diamond

Many thoughts on his guy, many possibilities but this one story I have planned made me like the idea of trans-male Cater a lot (Mainly He/Him but doesn't mind They/Them). Funnily enough, I can also see Cater as genderfluid slaying person - That's what I mean when I say there's a lot of potential. Has too many trust and commitment issues to think of any type of relationship but he's still a bisexual king. If I had to describe a bisexual, it would be him. Wouldn't say no to a potential poly-relationship but is also intimidated by the idea because of his mental issues. Sees a lot of benefits in poly-relationships. I wouldn't be surprised if he had hooked up with someone before. Despite it all, he flirts as if his life depends on it (Which is, at least in jp, somewhat canon).

Leona Kingscholar

"I'm a guy" ahh male (in an unbothered way, not the toxic way. He's surprised if someone asks for his pronouns but respects the person just a tiny bit more for caring enough to ask in the first place). While I do believe it is hard for him to actually love someone to begin with, I'm convinced of Omniromantic and -sexual Leona.

Ruggie Bucchi

"My gender is whatever gets the job done." Based on irl hyenas, it isn't impossible for Ruggie to not be AMAB (The genitalia of a female hyena are very similar to those of a male. It led on multiple occasions to zoos attempting to breed two male hyenas). So if a job requires him to dress in drag and dance the hoola, Ruggie will do so. In theory bisexual but is too busy for actual relationships. Would absolutely come up with the wildest neopronuns to piss off Karens though.

Jack Howl

He definitely questioned himself as a young pup, especially after meeting Vil because he thought he might have a crush on him but he was proven wrong later on. Definitely one of the few straight guys in NRC. The more genderqueer people he meets, the more worried he gets about peoples pronouns because he used to be the type to look at a person and guess based on whatever vibes they give off. Now he doesn't know which pronouns to use, so he often uses they/them unless told otherwise (Has a non-verbal pact with Deuce to let each other know what kind of pronouns people have - if the other person knows).

Azul Ashengrotto

I'm making this based on irl male octopi and their nature of dying after having sex for the first and only time: So with that in mind, I do believe that Azul wouldn't want to be sexually active at all (That and his insecuities aboout his body would probably stop him too). I definitely picture him as a helpless romantic once he does fall for a person, though (demiromantic maybe?). Definitely ne for the males, both his gender and his potential partner. He has absolutely questioned his gender and maybe even secretly owns a floor-length dress he wears in his room when his mind wanders off to question potential genders again.

Jade Leech

I will never not talk about AroAce Jade. I could write an essay about AroAce Jade but I won't. Just yes. Could potentially be bi-gender though. Likes to mess with people "You think I'm a guy? Is this not a little too narrow minded? ... What? Oh no, I'm not a woman."

Floyd Leech

Raging homosexual. His type? "If he can rock my bottom, I'm vibing", but his potential boyfriend needs to be able to keep up with his nature. Only his boyfriend sees a rare soft and sweet side from time to time, trust. (I've seen people have the HC of Floyd being a She/Her lesbian and I personally can only see it if we're talking about genderbend Floyd but I'm not here to comment on other people's HCs. I just wanted to mention my sight on genderbend Floyd too). Is a He/Him guy but wore dresses and skirts before but only very wide ones or the type that have a deep cut in it - For free legs (It's canon that he doesn't like tight clothes, so I'm working this into the HC.)

Kalim Al-Asim

"I'm a guy but I can be your big sister too, if you want to haha!" Would absolutely dress feminine if he feels like it. Likes to dance in very fancy and wide dresses and skirts because they look pretty when you do a twirl. Also very pansexual, just wants to love.

Jamil Viper

Is used to dress up feminine because Najma makes him wear her clothes sometimes, so she can see if it looks any good. Much like Ruggie, doesn't care about gender as long as it gets the job done and has been often enough addressed as a girl (Especially if the person saw Jamil only from behind) to stop caring about pronouns. Has many reasons not to want to be in a relationship but swings both ways in theory.

Vil Schoenheit

Gender? "Yes." Did you expect anything less than all genders for THE Vil Schoenheit? Come on now. Extremely demisexual and -romantic. Clothes have no gender (his canon statement, Book 5), so he has worn all types of clothes with confidence and comfort.

Rook Hunt

Lithromantic (Basically: Attraction exists until the target of your affection likes you back). Gender doesn't matter for a partner or Rook, but "it/its" pronouns are extremely interesting to the Hunter.

Epel Felmier

Homophobic, both internal and external. "I'm a man!" but in the toxic way. I see trans-male Epel HCs (and justify his dislike of "girly" things with that) a lot and I really like them as well but the idea of this toxic cis-het white guy Epel is much more entertaining to me - Let this guy be annoying for the sake of being annoying, not everything needs an emotional reason :> He's a little fruit tho even if he denies it (I mean, he's in Pomefiore for a reason /hj).

Idia Shroud

"I don't do love, I don't do sex, I don't do gender. Do not perceive me." Tbh I dont have any particular HCs for Idia, I just go with whatever I see in media, if it works out with my interpretation of Idia ofc. I don't believe that Idia would be quick to love though (especially after Eliza).

Ortho Shroud

Again, I don't have many HCs on my own but I've seen both trans-male and trans-female Ortho HCs and I like 'em both.

Malleus Draconia

Knows he needs to bring up an heir eventually but hasn't found the right person yet. Isn't exactly sure about his own sexuality but is certain he'll know once he finds "the right person". Is a little confused by "new" genders, so he just settles with the classic He/Him for himself - Tries his best to respect Neopronouns and trans folk. Will ask a lot of questions if you come out to him as anything that is not your assigned gender - Both out of curiosity and because he doesn't want to mess up. Has been raised to be supportive through Lilia.

Lilia Vanrouge

Man, Woman, prefer not to say, Other, Croissant - It's all Lilias. You're a Non-Binary person? Lilia absorbs whatever your assigned gender at birth was. You're trans? Lilia will trade your assigned gender with whatever you identify as. It's also pretty much canon that he's bisexual, so there's that - I'm pretty sure he hesitates about relationships due to his previous experiences with Meleanor and Raverne. Has definitely made out with Baul when they were younger.

Silver

When you ask Silver what he likes, he'll tell you about his sword (the object, not a naughty reference to his genitalia). If you'll correct yourself and mean as in a person, he'll tell you that he doesn't care what the gender of his opponent in a battle is - He just hopes they'll good enough to help him learn how to improve his skills. In short: His duties and interests matter to Silver much more than something like love or sexual intercourse. (Same applies if you ask about his own gender: "I'm.. a guy? But I don't see where this matters right now.")

Sebek Zigvolt

Used to be a raging homophobe until Lilia sat him down and had a looong talk with him. "I'm not queer", proceeds to explain how overrated the concept of love is and how his duties should never be interrupted by something as trivial as romantic relationships (He doesn't get that this mindset has a lot of AroAce weight in it - which means he's queer). He's overall a little confused, but he's got the spirit. Will correct people very loudly if they misgender his friends or close ones. Will also regularly ask Lilia in the morning what kind of pronoun-day is (Lilia has considered to wear different colored bracelets, so Sebek doesn't have to ask every morning.)

[gilbertscurls]

glimpse of us ➵ matt sturniolo

summary: caught between hesitation and hope, you listen as matt paints a vivid picture of the love you could share—if only you were ready to take the leap.

He could see the war going on inside you, your conflicted emotions written all over your face. He knew you liked him, maybe even loved him, but that you were too scared to take that final step, to make your relationship official.

He hated seeing you so unsure, and he wished he could just reach inside you and pull out all your doubts and insecurities, to make you see how perfect you could be together.

“Y'know,” he said, his voice easy and relaxed, “if we were dating, I'd probably cook you breakfast every morning. Pancakes, eggs, whatever you wanted. And I'd make sure your coffee was always how you liked it, all frothy and warm.”

He chuckled and shrugged, like he was just casually bringing up a random topic. “And I'd probably leave dumb little notes all over the place for you to find, just… reminding you how much I care about you.”

“I'd also get you flowers. Not just on special occasions, but just… out of the blue, to tell you I was thinking about you. I'd probably buy you teddy bears too, or cute little stuffed animals that I'd leave on the bed so you can hug them when I'm not around.”

He spoke softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hip bone. “And I'd definitely text you dumb memes and funny videos that I know would make you laugh. But only after I'd call you in the morning to wish you a good day.”

“And I'd take you on dates, like real dates. Not just to your favorite coffee shop, but to nice restaurants and… oh, I'd take you to the theater. I know how much you love musicals, and I'd even sit through the entire thing without complaining, even if I'm bored out of my mind.”

He chuckled and shook his head, like he was imagining the scenario. “And I'd hold your hand the whole time, and buy you expensive popcorn, and probably make out with you during the boring parts.”

“And I'd make sure you were taken care of,” he said, his voice growing serious. “I'd make sure you had everything you needed, and everything you wanted. And if you ever had a bad day, or something was bothering you, I'd listen. I'd hold you, and I'd tell you it was alright, because that's what boyfriends are supposed to do.”

He looked away for a moment, as if lost in thought, before turning back to you. “But I suppose that's all irrelevant because, well... we're not dating.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)

A03

Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.

Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid

So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.

(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)

“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”

“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.

“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.

The fucking traitor.

“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.

“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.

His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.

They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.

Plus a new character was a great distraction.

(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)

“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.

Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.

“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.

No one said a word back.

“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”

Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.

She got more stares in return.

“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.

“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.

“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.

Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.

While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.

“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”

“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.

Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”

Another dumbfounded blink.

“Okay?”

“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”

She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.

Stewart kicked her ankle.

“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.

It was a little terrifying.

“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Man, we are vicious today!”

“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).

Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.

“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”

“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”

He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”

Gareth frowned back at him.

“Why would I know where they are?”

“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”

Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.

Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.

Pity he actually had the answer.

“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.

“See?” Stewart said smugly.

With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.

“Fuck you, fuck you--”

“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.

“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”

As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.

These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.

This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.

(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.

See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.

“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”

“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.

“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”

Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.

“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.

In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.

He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)

All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.

“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.

“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”

Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”

“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.

Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.

“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.

“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.

Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.

(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)

“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”

Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.

“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.

Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)

“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.

On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;

‘Go. Find. Byers!’

--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.

“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”

Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.

‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.

Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.

Useless. They were all useless.

“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”

“I will. I’ll make a list even.”

“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.

“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.

Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.

‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.

If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.

Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.

(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.

Middle schoolers.)

xXx

The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.

The lights in the drama room were low.

The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.

Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.

A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.

Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.

It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.

“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.

“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.

“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.

“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”

“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.

Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.

It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.

A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.

This, of course, is when the actual children came in.

“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.

“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.

“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”

El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.

Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.

Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.

“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.

(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)

“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”

Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.

A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.

“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.

(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)

Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.

Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.

“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”

“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”

Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.

Pity Steve once again, beat him there.

“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”

“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”

It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,

“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”

Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.

(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”

“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.

“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)

“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.

“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”

Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.

“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”

Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.

“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”

It was Mike’s turn to scoff.

“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”

“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”

“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”

“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”

Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.

Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.

“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”

“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.

“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”

Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”

“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”

“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.

She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.

“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.

“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”

Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”

“But--”

“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”

“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.

“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.

“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”

A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.

There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.

Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.

Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.

Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.

Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.

Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.

Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.

Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.

One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.

“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.

With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.

Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.

“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.

Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.

“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.

Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.

(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)

That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.

“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”

“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.

Eddie shushed him again.

[lucidbee]

Love Is A Science | Percy Jackson x Reader

Summary: You and Percy have always been best friends you just needed a little push for you to become more.

Word Count: 1.1k

Author Note: Did I write this in the car to eat dry turkey and complain to my family about what tariffs mean, yes. Did I get car sick from writing this also, yes. Not proofread. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Feel free to leave any requests. 

—---—---—‐--—---—---—---—---—---

You and Percy had been friends ever since he came to Camp Half-Blood. You both were always next to each other; if you weren’t, you were talking about them somehow. Every camper could see that both of you were meant to be together. The teasing and questioning were endless. The Aphrodite cabin had a blast creating different scenarios and challenging each other on who could get you two together first. For years the both of you had been denying any claims that you were anything more than friends. Both of you believing that you were just really good friends, companions in battle. 

But after the battle in Manhattan, things started to change, both of you becoming more aware of each other's presence, not wanting to be more than an arm's reach away from each other at all times. Something deeper had started to grow after all these years, something unspoken.

That's where you find yourself, both silently staring into the fire crackling on the beach. You’re wrapped in Percy’s arms, your back pressed against his chest. Before the battle, if anyone had asked, it would have been simply cuddling nothing more, than just a way for two friends to stay warm. However, now if you were asked the same question, you weren’t sure what you would say. It was different now, you didn’t just want to be around Percy anymore, you needed to be around him. You needed to know that he was safe, that you weren’t going to lose him. The possibility of losing Percy opened up feelings you had no idea you had for the son of Posideon. 

You wanted to kiss him, to be held by him, for him to fight every battle with coming home to you as his only goal. You were hopelessly and undoubtedly in love with Percy Jackson. The only trouble was that you had no idea how to bring the topic up to him. You had spent years denying the claims that you were lovers, was it possible for him to have the same change of heart as you? 

The fire crackled loudly filling any awkward silence. You knew you only had so much time to confess your feelings before curfew, if you didn’t do it today you knew you would talk yourself out of it every day to come. 

“Percy?” You call out not taking your eyes off of the flames.

Percy, who is usually quick with his words, had been unusually quiet this whole time. Usually, he would be humming a song, or bouncing his knee to create any sort of noise. Today he looked completely lost in his thoughts. 

“Percy?”

“A daughter of Aphrodite asked me out today,” Percy said looking down to look at you.

Shocked was the only way you could describe what you felt right now. Your heart started to race and your head started to spin, were you too late?

“W-what did you say?” 

Percy sighed before saying “I told her I would think about it.”

More dread filled your body. “Do you like her?”

“Well no, but there is no harm in just one date right?”

Your head was still spinning but your heartbeat started to slow back down, you still had time. 

“Do you like anyone?” You asked.

“There is this one girl, but I don't think she is interested.”

Your heart broke at that moment, you had waited too long. You could have had him years ago but now that you are about to lose him you have never wanted him more. Pain fills your body, and you find it more difficult to breathe. 

“She would be dumb not to be interested in you, Percy.” You say tears filling your eyes.

“Y/n are you okay, did I do something?”

“No, it's what I did,” You say tears strolling down your face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t tell you how much I love you and now it’s too late.” 

You stand up wiping your tears, needing to separate yourself from Percy. Percy soon follows but keeps his distance.

“Y/n?”

“I should have told you so much sooner, but we both needed time to heal after the battle and I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way,” You ramble off walking back and forth.

“Y/N,” Percy yells.

Your head swings to look at him, tears still streaming down your face. Percy steps closer taking your hands in his. Both of you keep eye contact the whole time as he allows you time to calm down.

“I love you too”

“You what?”

“The girl I was talking about was you, I love you.” 

“This isn’t funny seafoam, you can’t joke about this, I’m barely holding myself together right now.”

“I’m not joking, in Manhattan, all I could keep thinking about was that I was terrified I was going to die before being able to kiss you.”

For what felt like an eternity you were finally able to breathe. The pain washed away into a feeling of overwhelming joy.

“Kiss me,” You say.

“What?”

“Kiss me, do you not want to anymore?”

“NO,” Percy yells.

Percy quickly takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes quickly shut, wrapping your arms around Percy’s neck. It was everything you imagined and more, you could have stayed in the position for hours. That was until the sound of a horn being blown in the distance alerting you both that curfew was in a few minutes. 

“I don’t want to let you go,” Percy said nuzzling himself into your neck.

“Then don’t.

Percy looks at you in a confused way, when you finally explain it to him. 

“You’re all alone in your cabin, sneak me in.”

“You are brilliant,” Percy says giving you a light peck.

Percy quickly put out the fire that was still burning beside you, before taking your hand and rushing off of the beach and into cabin number three. You both leave grinning and completely absorbed in each other. Completely not noticing the daughter of Aphrodite and Athena hiding behind the bushes.

“Told you all they needed was a little push to figure out what they were missing out on,” Annabeth said.

“You are a genius and about to be the richest person in camp, we’ve been betting on them for the last four years,” Drew says walking back towards the Aphrodite cabin.

“What can I say love is a science, after all, let me know if you need any lessons.”

“Don’t push it, brainiac.”

[midnightwritingsessions]

Yours and only yours

Summary: While on a date with Louis you run into your ex and Louis doesn’t like the way he’s looking at you. [1.4k]

Masterlist

Requested

-

The evening had been perfect so far. The two of you were seated at your favorite cozy Italian restaurant, tucked into a corner booth that offered just enough privacy. The low hum of conversation and the gentle clink of glasses filled the air, but all Louis could hear was your laugh as you teased him about his persistent refusal to try pineapple on pizza. “It’s unnatural, love” he said with a mock grimace, his blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza. End of discussion”. You rolled your eyes playfully, resting your chin on your hand as you gazed at him. “You’re so stubborn. One day, I’ll win this argument”. He smirked, leaning closer. “Not a chance, but I do love your optimism”.

The waiter brought over your plates, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics as you enjoyed your meal. Everything felt easy, warm, and just… right. That is, until someone approached your table. “Y/N?” You froze mid-laugh, your smile faltering slightly as you turned to see the voice’s owner. Standing there was someone Louis instantly recognized from the stories you’d told. Your ex, Jake.

“Jake” you said, your voice a little tighter than usual. You offered a polite smile, clearly caught off guard. “Hi. It’s been a while”. Jake returned the smile, his eyes lighting up in a way that immediately set Louis’s nerves on edge. “Yeah, it has. You look incredible, by the way. I almost didn’t recognize you”. Louis stiffened in his seat, his jaw tightening as he instinctively moved his hand to rest on your knee under the table. His thumb stroked over your leg in a steady rhythm, his presence grounding, but his posture had gone from relaxed to visibly on guard. “Thanks” you replied politely, a little thrown by his sudden enthusiasm. “Uh, this is Louis, by the way. My boyfriend”.

Jake barely glanced at Louis, his focus entirely on you. “Boyfriend, huh? Lucky guy”He grinned, his eyes lingering on you a little too long. “You always did have great taste, Y/N”. Louis’s hand tightened slightly on your leg, the shift so subtle you almost didn’t notice. “Cheers for that” Louis said coolly, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade. Jake seemed unfazed, leaning a little closer to you. “So, how’ve you been? Still into photography? I always remember you had such an eye for it”. You smiled politely, not entirely catching the way Jake’s tone dripped with something more than friendly interest. “I still dabble here and there, yeah. What about you? How’s life been treating you?”

“Oh, you know, just working, traveling. Nothing too exciting. Though running into you might be the highlight of my year” Jake said, his grin widening. Louis’s blue eyes darkened, and his hand stopped its soft motion on your knee, gripping it firmly instead. You glanced at him briefly, only to find his jaw set and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner” Jake said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he leaned against the edge of the table, his gaze fixed firmly on you. “But maybe we could catch up sometime. You know, for old times’ sake” he threw a wink at you which twisted your stomach.

Your brow furrowed slightly, the implication behind his words finally starting to sink in. “I don’t think that’d be appropriate, Jake” you said, your tone firmer now. You glanced at Louis, whose icy stare was locked on Jake, daring him to say another word. Jake raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d ask, test my luck invade he was treating you right. Well, it was nice seeing you, Y/N. And… Louis, was it? Nice meeting you.”

Louis didn’t respond, his jaw clenched so tight you were surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. Jake lingered for a moment longer before finally walking away, leaving behind a palpable tension that settled over the table like a storm cloud. “Louis” you said softly, watching as he picked at the edge of his napkin, his usual playful energy replaced with a brooding silence. “Talk to me”.“There’s nothing to talk about” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the table. “Louis” you tried again, reaching for his hand. He pulled away gently, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “So that’s Jake, huh?”. “Yes” you said, your voice even. “But it’s not what you’re thinking at all” the thought alone nearly made you shiver.

His blue eyes snapped up to meet yours, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “Not what I’m thinking? He was practically undressing you with his eyes, Y/N. And you didn’t even seem to notice”. You blinked, taken aback. “I didn’t- Louis, I wasn’t trying to encourage him. I was just being polite”.

“Polite” Louis repeated, his tone tight. “Love, he wasn’t just saying hello. He was flirting with you. Right in front of me”. Your stomach sank as his words hit you, the pieces finally clicking into place. “I didn’t realise” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I wasn’t paying attention to him like that. I was too busy thinking about you”.

Louis’s expression softened slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “I know you weren’t. It’s not you I’m upset with. It’s him. The way he looked at you, like he still had a chance…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It just got under my skin”. You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “Louis, you’re the one I’m here with. You’re the one I love. Jake doesn’t matter”. He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, love. I just… I hate the thought of anyone thinking they could take you away from me”. “No one can, especially not him” you said firmly, squeezing his hand. “Jake is my past. You’re my present and my future. There’s no competition”.

By the time you got home, Louis’s mood had improved slightly, but the unease still lingered. He went straight to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and leaning against the counter with a sigh. “Alright” you said, stepping into the kitchen and crossing your arms. “Let’s get this out in the open”. Louis glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You don’t let anything go, do you,”. “Not when it comes to you” you replied, moving closer. “Talk to me, Louis. I don’t want this hanging over us”. He set the glass down and ran a hand through his hair, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. “It’s just… you’re everything to me, Y/N. And sometimes I look at you and think, ‘What did I do to deserve her?’ And then some idiot like Jake comes along, acting like he’s got a chance, and it just… it messes with my head”.

Your heart ached at his words, and you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Louis, listen to me. You don’t have to feel that way. I’m with you because I want to be, because I love you. Jake can flirt all he wants- it doesn’t change the way I feel about you”. He looked down at you, his blue eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. “You mean that?”. “Every word” you said, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his arms wrapping tightly around you as if letting go wasn’t an option. When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing at his lips.

“I’m sorry” he murmured. “For letting him get to me. I know I shouldn’t have”. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel” you said softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “But next time, talk to me about it, okay? We’re a team”. He nodded, his smile growing a little more confident. “Alright. No more sulking. I promise”. You laughed, leaning into him. “Good, because I don’t think I could handle another moody Louis Tomlinson dinner date”.

“Oi” he said with a mock scowl, tickling your sides until you squealed. As the laughter faded, Louis pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, love” he said softly. “For always knowing what to say”. You smiled against his chest, your heart full. “That’s what I’m here for”. And in that moment, you knew there was no one else you’d rather navigate life’s ups and downs with than him.

[softspokendove]

It was me

pairings: bsf!matt sturniolo x female!reader

summary: after your one night stand with ghost face, you can’t seem to forget that night. you confide in your best friend about your experience and how it’s been driving you crazy, all for you to find out he was the mystery man.

warnings: SMUT (who would’ve thought), knife play, slapping, p in v unprotected, degrading, rough kinda, pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc), name calling (slut, whore, etc), biting, multiple orgasms, crazy matt kinda, fingering, little blowjob f!receiving.

Important note: this is a part two, part one is posted before this one it’s called “ghostface matt”. I do recommend reading that one before this one since it has important “plot”. I’m sorry I don’t know how to link it :(

“Are you listening to me?”

you try to rack your brain for anything that Matt has said to you in the past 10 minutes but nothing comes to mind. You’ve been too busy inside your own head replaying previous events of the party last weekend. The more you think about it, the more you can feel his hands back on you again making you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together on Matt’s bed.

You look at Matt and he has an agitated look on his face. He’s been ranting to you for the past 20 minutes trying to get your opinion on the new video idea his brothers have, he doesn’t think they should do it and he wants you to back him up on it.

You quickly nod your head trying to be convincing, “yes I’m listening.”

Matt raises his eyebrows challenging you while he crosses his arms, “okay then what did I just say?”

You don’t even think before answering, “you asked if I was listening.” A sarcastic smile written all over your face.

“Very funny.” Matt blows air out of his mouth and walks over to sit beside you. His back now rested against the headboard, you sitting criss cross while facing him. “So what’s got you in a pickle?”

You snicker a bit at his choice of words, “a pickle?” He just shrugs, not a hint of humor shown on his face. You can tell by the look he’s giving you that he expects you to answer him truthfully. You feel your face grow a tad bit warmer as you think back to what you were previously day dreaming about.

You’ve told Matt before about your past sexual experiences and he’s told you his, it was a normal thing that was brought up time to time. But this time it was different. It felt different. You truly felt like that was your best sexual experience of your life and saying it out loud to your best friend didn’t sound appealing.

“I was just thinking about the party last weekend.” It’s not a lie, more like a half truth. You could be okay with that.

“Oh? What about it?” You feel your stomach twist and try to think of something to say other than the truth. You see a small glint appear in his eyes as he adjusts himself, getting more comfy.

“Nothing. It was just fun.” You copy Matt’s movements and adjust yourself a bit too, trying to look unsuspicious. But Matt can see right through you.

He squints his eyes and tilts his head, “c’mon it’s me, you can tell me anything.” You appreciate his words but it doesn’t help with the racing of your heart or the small patch of heat beginning to pool lower and lower. You don’t trust yourself to answer him, to concerned that your voice might wobble, instead you just lower your head and stare at your lap.

Matt knows this move all too well. When you’re too embarrassed or shy to answer someone you avoid any and all eye contact. “What did something happen?” You feel bad ignoring him so you shrug your shoulders as a response. A few more seconds go by, “Did you sleep with somebody?” Matt sees you visibly stiffen and he lets a small smile slip.

He finds it adorable how open you usually are about your sex life, but you can’t stop getting flustered everytime he’s asked you about the party. He’s been prying at you all week to get your side on what happened. To his luck all he got was you either avoiding his questions or changing the topic. He’s not letting you slip away this time.

“What is that it?” You slowly pull your head up your eyes finally meeting Matt’s deep blue ones. A small ‘yeah’ escapes your mouth. “Was it that bad?”

You shake your head, “no it was good.”

Matt’s small smile grows, “How good?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his constant pestering questions. He’s not usually this interested in sex. “Really good. Like the best I’ve ever had.” You mumble the last bit but Matt heard you perfectly. Matt feels his heart swell up in pride. He made you feel so good, more than any other man has. He knew you were made for him and this is just more proof.

“Soo do you know who the guy is?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at Matt’s question. How’d he know there was a mystery guy. For all he should know is that you just had a one night stand. He couldn’t know that even you didn’t know who it was.

Unless.

Unless he was there. Or someone told him. Like the mystery man himself. No, if you knew who was under the ghost face mask you would’ve known right? I mean you must have felt that you knew the person. But then again you carelessly let that man use you practically, it’d be worse if you didn’t know him and let a stranger do that. Right?

Matt can almost see the wheels turning in your head. Your eyes are rapidly looking all around his face as your poor little brain tries to figure out how he knew. To be honest he wasn’t going to tell you. He wanted to see if he could run into you again as ghost face and see how’d you react.

He loved it. He loved seeing your pretty face all flustered and in bliss as his cock worked your wet pussy. He came home and jerked himself off before bed, replaying the whole scene again so it was fresh in his mind. He’s had so many boners this week alone. Every time he’d cum it’d be to you, your name effortlessly rolling off his tongue. He’s had to stay in his room for most the week so his brothers can’t see the state that he’s in.

He’s addicted and it’s bad.

All he wants is you. All he can think about is you. When you walked into his room earlier for your usual movie night all he wanted to do was practically pounce on you. To kiss you, feel you, hear your beautiful moans again. He can’t stop himself.

So is he upset that the mystery man won’t be much of a mystery to you anymore? A little. Is his cock straining so hard against his pajama pants that it feels like he might explode? Yes. And that is all he needs for him to lose track of his other plan and just let you figure it out.

“How’d you know I didn’t know who it was?” Matt’s whole demeanor has changed now. His legs are spread more apart. His pupils are dark and blown. His hair is sitting messily on his head. One hand is rested on his thigh while the other one fiddles with his pajama pants string. He just gives you a one shoulder shrug, trying to let you do all the work.

“Matt how did you know?” This time you sit up on your knees and give Matt the most serious face you can manage while you’re freaking out on the inside.

He doesn’t answer. Of course not. He knew he had to give you something to lead you to the right idea. But what would be the fun in saying it? No he’d show you. See that pretty shocked face again.

Matt ignores you and instead gets up walking over to his closet. He bends down to pick something up and then walks to the bathroom, careful not to show you what he has in his hands.

What is wrong with him? He’s been acting strange all week and this is just the cherry on top. You get up and stomp over to the bathroom door. “Matt!” You go to raise your hand up and knock on the door, right then Matt whips open the door.

Matt smirks as he sees your face, your eyes wide and mouth open ajar as your eyes take him in. He’s wearing the same pj pants as before but his sweater is now gone leaving him shirtless, his arm covered in tattoos on full display. As your eyes go up you feel your oxygen get knocked out of your lungs and your legs feel wobbly.

He’s wearing the mask. The same one from the party.

It couldn’t have been him. No it can’t. He was at home that day, he didn’t want to go. Besides he’s your best friend he wouldn’t want to sleep with you.

You want to believe that you truly do, until your eyes land on an object in Matt’s hand. A knife. The exact same knife from the party. That can’t be a coincidence. Oh my god you fucked your best friend.

“Wh-Matt? It was you at the party?”

“Surprise.” His voice isn’t his anymore. It’s the same voice from all the movies and the same voice you let turn you on while having sex with him. His hands are now those same hands that you can’t stop thinking about. His cock is now the same one you’ve been needing back inside of you.

This is wrong. You slept with your best friend and you loved every second of it. You’ve been day dreaming about getting another chance with that guy and now you finally have it.

As you begin to put two and two together you clench your thighs together, you can already feel your slick sticking to your folds. Matt notices this and starts stalking towards you. This makes you back up, not yet sure if you should be doing this. This all stops when the back of your knees hit his bed, leaving you pinned between them two.

“Don’t you want it? I know I do.” Your stomach churns at Matt saying the same thing you said to him last time, giving one last confirmation that this is the man. He doesn’t let you answer, instead he pushes you backwards, letting you softly hit his bed. His fingers slip past your waistband and pull your shorts down. A dark spot on your panties giving him all the confirmation he needs to continue.

He backs away from you, walking towards the door, shutting and locking it. Now it’s just you and him, and he’s never letting you go. You’re his. He’ll show you that.

“Did you miss me?” Matt tilts his head to the side and slowly walks back over to you, admiring how puzzled and adorable your face still looks. He runs a hand down your cheek before giving it a light slap, not enough to hurt you but enough to regain your attention. “I said did you miss me?”

You feel another wave of wetness at the familiar dominance from the man above you. You want nothing but to feel his hands back on you. To cum on his cock again. To be able to scream his name now that you know he’s your best friend. You give in and nod your head, “yes Matt.”

Matt groans at the sound of your whiny voice saying his name. God he’s waited so long to hear that. He quickly lifts up his mask and doesn’t waste anytime before connecting his lips to yours. Your lips are so soft and taste so good. His hand is still rested against your cheek as his other hand runs the knife down your body. Goosebumps erupt from all across your skin as you feel a shiver run down your back.

Matt is relentless with attacking your mouth. You start needing oxygen and go to open your mouth. He feels you open your mouth slightly and he takes it as an opportunity to slide in his tongue. His grip tightens on your face and he forces you to tilt your head to give him better access. You both moan at the new feeling of your tongues sliding against one another. The sensation was short lived as you both pull away gasping for air.

Matt starts attacking your neck, kissing all over your soft skin. He then starts sucking and biting, leaving marks all over. As he gets lower he gets cut off by your shirt, grunting he pulls away to slip it off of you and then continues. He reaches your tits and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, moving his tongue in a circular motion as he sucks.

You arch your back into his mouth and let out a moan. Matt can’t help but smile against your nipple at the noise, something he’s been longing to hear again. He lets go of the nipple with a pop and moves on to the other one, giving the same attention to it.

You begin to grow needier and the lust filled pit in your stomach isn’t doing much to help. You start squirming under the man and let out a pathetic whine, “Matt.”

He lets go of your tits and moves lower, his kisses getting lower and lower to where you desperately need him. He moves two of his fingers against your drenched panties, the slight pressure on your pussy causing you to gasp.

“Always so wet for me.” He moves your panties to the side and lets his fingers finally come in contact with your cunt. He gathers up some of your slick before inserting a finger into you. You moan at the sudden intrusion and let your head fall back against the bed, enjoying your best friend playing with you.

Matt feels his cock twitch at how tight you are. You’re perfectly sprawled out for him, your legs open wide to give him all the room he needs. He can see how beautiful you are when you’re so open like this. Can see your cunt clinging to his finger and sucking him back in as he motions his finger in and out. He leans down and applies a light kiss to your clit. This makes your head start to spin.

Matt wants nothing more than to insert his tongue inside of you and suck on that pretty little clit, but with seeing you subconsciously start rocking your hips to his movement he knows your not gonna last very long. That’s okay he’ll make you ride him later as a midnight snack.

He can feel your pussy start to relax a bit more against him so he inserts another figure. This time he curls them, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you let out a high pitched moan.

“Shh baby, I wanna hear you, but you have to be quiet. Don’t want anyone hearing how much of a slut you are do you?”

Without thinking you let out a no and continue to rock your hips. Your movements are on key to his, letting him hit deep inside you with the tip of his digits. You bite your lip to hold in your moans at the intense feeling.

Matt kisses your inner left thigh, opening his mouth and biting down on your flesh. You squeal at the surprising pain. The pain of the bite and the pleasure of his fingers leads you to reach closer and closer to your peak.

Matt kisses the bite mark, soothing the pain. He feels your juices drip down his hand and onto the floor. He knows you’re close when he feels your walls start pulsating against him. He licks strips up and down your clit pulling you closer and closer to the brink.

“Look at me.” You’re too much in a mind fog to listen to him. All you can think about is how good he’s making you feel and how you really wanna cum. A gasp soon escapes past your lips at the feeling of a slap coming down onto your right thigh.

“I said look at me. I wanna see my pretty girls face when she cums.” You reluctantly lift your head up and meet his masked face. His mask is still covering his top face as he works on your cunt. You notice his knife is nowhere to be seen as his empty hand soothes your skin.

The pressure gets more intense as his motions continue. You let out small moans as your come close to your brink. All that keeps repeating in your head is Matt. His fingers inside of you. His tongue working hard on your clit. Your best friend making you feel the best you’ve ever felt.

Your hand reaches down towards his empty one and intertwines itself with his. You grip his hand tightly trying to ground yourself as you finally snap. The pressure soon turned into absolute bliss. Your cum soaking his hand. Loud moans leaving your mouth.

Matt can’t even be mad at you disobeying him. You looked so good while cumming. Your walls wrapped tightly around his digits as your juices seek out around them. He slowly slides his fingers out of you causing you to whimper in protest, he takes them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his digits and groaning at the taste of you. “God you always taste so good.”

You feel yourself getting wet again at the view of Matt sucking his fingers moaning in delight at how good you taste. You buck your hips up towards Matt's hand wanting more, "please Matt."

"Always so needy baby." He avoids meeting your hips and instead stands up, sliding down his pajama pants and his boxers follow suite. His cock springs free making him sigh in relief. The veins of his cock are throbbing as his cock twitches staring at you. The reality finally hits him that he's about to have sex with you, his best friend. He can't believe it, but he also loves it.

"Turn around for me." You obey him and turn around now on your hands and knees. You feel the bed dip behind you and Matt puts his body against yours. He puts his hand on your lower back and pushes, forcing your upper body to lay flat against the bed, leaving your ass sticking up in the air ready for his cock.

Matt takes his cock and plays with your pussy teasing you. He slides himself repeatedly through your folds hitting your sensitive clit causing you to jump. He pulls you back towards him and slaps your ass, "stay still." He adjusts his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes himself in making you whine, "ah fuck."

He shoves in his full length making you feel so full again. Your walls spasm around his cock getting used to his size. Matt lets out a few groans, "You're so tight sweetheart." He starts to slowly slide out, almost removing his whole cock from your sobbing tight cunt, then he roughly slams himself back in. The tip of his dick hitting your cervix causing you to accidentally let out a loud moan, this earns you another harsh smack to your ass cheek. "Be quiet."

Matt starts pulling his hips back then roughly slamming them back in continuously, his pace slow but hard. The slow drag of dick having a big effect on you. You feel so good, all you can think about is Matt's cock. You grab a fistful of the bed sheets and tighten your hold on it as Matt keeps thrusting into you.

His bed starts to move and hit the wall along with his thrusts, causing him to groan in frustration. His hands grip your hips tightly, almost leaving marks as he pushes and pulls your body to match his pace. Basically using you as if you were a toy. You get caught up in the bliss of his cock that you let out a few small moan, still holding back the big ones.

Your cunt starts to leak out more liquid, it mixes with Matt's movements causing the room to get filled with the wet noises of you. This pushes Matt further, the fact that you get so turned on for him and only him. Only he can make you feel this good. He is the only one that can see and touch you like this, he'll make sure of it.

He increases his pace making you have a harder time of concealing your loud noises. Matt grabs both of your wrists and pulls them behind your back, holding them with one hand. He then pulls on those which forces you backwards, your back against his chest.

"I thought I told you to be quiet? Guess I'll just have to do it myself." His other hand that's on your hip moves and cups around your mouth. Your moans now getting muffled. Knowing that noise isn't much of a problem anymore, Matt increases the pace even more. The pressure in your lower stomach now returns as you practically scream into his hand.

Matt's hips constantly rutting into yours, his cock smoothly sliding in and out of you thanks to how wet you are for him. He feels your walls start to slowly clamp down around him, signaling that your getting close. "You gonna cum?" You moan back as an answer and nod your head. Matt feels himself getting closer as well, his cock gives a small twitch here and there while inside of you. He tilts his hips at a certain angle to hit just the right spot, making you scream into his palm.

"Cum around my cock. Show me how much of a whore you are for me and maybe I'll cum inside of you." Your eyes roll back inside your head at his words. You move your hips on your own accord and meet with his. You hear Matt's moans and grunts as his mouth is beside your ear. You roll your head backwards against Matt's shoulder, which he takes advantage of and bites down on your exposed neck trying to muffle his noises as he reaches his peak.

You let out a squeal at the bliss of the pain mixing with the pleasure of your best friend's dick forcing you over the edge. The pressure once again snapping and your cunt pulsating as you squirt all over Matt and his bed.

Matt realizing that he just made you squirt sends him over the brink, he lets go of your neck and groans out your name, his cum shooting out of his tip and inside of you. You whimper at finally feeling his cum fill and warm you up.

Matt lets you go to which you collapse onto the bed and sigh out in exhaustion. He watches as his cum and your cum slowly seep of your cunt. His cock twitching again at the sight, wanting more of you. He pushes it down and goes to put his boxers back on. He unlocks the door disappearing into the hallway and returns without the mask but with a wash rag to clean up the mess.

You hiss at the sensitivity which Matt apologizes for. He puts the rag on the floor to soak up that liquid, making a mental note to change his bed sheets later. He climbs into bed beside you and reaches over, pulling your body onto his. You feel yourself start to fall asleep as he plays with your hair. Before you fall into the darkness of sleep you hear Matt one last time, "You are mine."

a/n: sorry this took so long for me to post, I've been busy with work and I've been HORRIBLY sick. Hopefully I'll start posting more now and I hope you enjoyed!

tags: @hesvoid34 @sturnl0ve @princesspeachthefroggy @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[kirain]

Rook/Emmerich fic Rook/Emmerich fic ROOK/EMMERICH FIC!

Lmfao! Here you go, anon.

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth and the scratching of Emmrich's quill against parchment. His study was dimly lit, the warm glow of candlelight dancing across his cluttered desk, laden with books, maps, and papers detailing plans too dangerous to speak of. Though nothing was more dangerous than the journey he was about to embark on, the reality of death pervading his mind.

With a dejected sigh, he dipped his quill one last time, the ink glistening as he signed his name with a flourish.

"Darling!" he called as Vae entered, her cerulean eyes grabbed his attention. "I'm just finishing reviewing my bequeathments. It made me consider… a topic I must broach." He stood to face her, nervously rubbing his hands. "The eve before we kill a god, my thoughts turn to mortality. And what we are to each other."

Vae tilted her head, her smile laced with curiosity. "All right."

Emmrich paused, his expression uncertain, as though balancing on the edge of a precipice. "Even under the best circumstances, you will outlive me, Rook. You've… grown to mean much to me and… I care for you, Rook! Deeply. But there are such years between us, I shouldn't heap you with that burden."

Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, more sincere. "I get it. You're scared because you love me."

"What?" His voice faltered, betraying his usual composure. He could sense she was teasing him, despite the gravity of his insinuation.

"It's fine to say it," she pushed, searching for something he wasn't ready to give.

"I can't… at my—"

"You're older than me. I get it." Her words were firm but devoid of judgment, though Emmrich still thought she was joking.

"I'm perfectly serious," he replied, his tone heavy with exasperation.

"So am I!" she snapped back, her patience slipping. "Why are you making this such a big deal?"

"One of us has to pay attention to these things," he countered, his words coming out sharper than intended.

"One of us needs the guts to say how he feels!" Vae's voice rang out, rousing and raw. There was no anger in it—just frustration born from longing.

Emmrich froze, his eyes widening, a flicker of shock breaking through his unflappable facade. For a moment, it seemed as though he had something to add; some rehearsed reply teetering on the edge of his lips. But then, as if overwhelmed by Vae's very presence, he looked away, his shoulders sinking.

The silence that followed stretched on for far too long, thick and uncomfortable. Vae stared at him, willing him to speak, to mend the gap he'd suddenly torn between them. She could feel her pulse quicken, her anger rising with every second that passed without a response, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

His refusal to meet her gaze, to give her the acknowledgment she so desperately craved, stung more than the words he hadn't said. But soon her anger crumbled into something worse—disappointment. She could feel it welling up inside her, making her chest clench against her ribs as the realisation settled: he wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to do anything.

A sharp ache pierced her wounded heart, but she couldn't force him to speak, and she didn't want to. Slowly, she let her arms drop to her sides. "Look, I... let's pack. Eve before we face a god, right?"

The older man straightened up. He wanted to apologise, but amidst his creeping guilt all he could muster was, "As you say."

The look on Vae's face mounted his guilt tenfold. He could see the hurt in her eyes, much to his dismay. He caused it, and for that he'd never forgive himself.

As she turned away, he lowered his head in shame, every nerve ablaze. He knew he should say something, but for once his extensive vocabulary failed. So many words, so many meanings, and yet none seemed sufficient. Fear, degradation, the weight of his deepest insecurities, and the thought that Vae would one day have to mourn him, alone and heartbroken, chipped away at his sensitive soul.

He kept quiet, even as his inner voice screamed for her to stay. Only Manfred's inquisitive hiss jolted him from his stupor, earning him a rare look of reproach.

"Don't start," he grumbled, his eyes drifting back to Vae.

The further she moved, the more every instinct screeched at him to call out, to bring her back, to make things right. But the words stuck in his throat, his feet rooted to the spot. He could taste the cowardice in his hesitation, and the helplessness of watching her saunter away, but he convinced himself it was better. For her, it was better. His desires didn't matter.

"Actually... no," she whispered, stopping just shy of the door. "No, we're not leaving it like this."

He flinched as she marched back to him, her expression indomitable. "Rook?"

She raised a respectful hand. "Emmrich, do you really think I never considered your age?"

His fingers twitched. "I..."

"Because I did. Of course I did."

"Darling—"

"My parents were murdered, Emmrich. Right in front of me", she said quickly, causing him to wince. "My poor, sweet baby brother, too." She looked away, her brow arching. "I watched them die. I watched..." Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she swallowed loudly, forcing them down.

"Oh, Vaelyn..." Emmrich struggled. He reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it, worried she'd recoil in disgust. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you relive that awful memory."

She shook her head, meeting his gaze once more. "I know what it's like to love someone and lose them long before you should. But I've chosen to face that pain again... because it's worth it. You're worth it, Emmrich." Her words were like a physical blow, but she wasn't finished. "Not having you in my life, not because of the inevitable, but because you're too scared to share the time you have... hurts more than I can bear. Worse than losing you naturally."

Emmrich stood speechless, struck by the depth of her confession. He knew there was nothing he could say to undo the pain he'd caused her, but Vae wasn't looking for an apology. She was telling him what she needed, what she wanted. The truth.

"If you think you're the only one tortured by the concept of time," she added, her voice faint, "you're wrong. I think about my brother every day. About the time he lost. He was so much younger than me, Emmrich. So full of life he deserved to live." She took a breath, a brief respite. "But I also think about the time we had together, and that makes me smile. I'm glad I had him, for however short or long it was." Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. "If you care about me, then stop hiding behind your age. Because you're right—we don't have forever. We only have the here and now, but that's enough for me."

Emmrich remained silent, his heart pounding like a drum. His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, more wild and unpredictable than he'd ever allowed. He hadn't known the full weight of what she carried—the profound, unstoppable pain. Yet there she was, choosing him despite it all.

The guilt he felt for holding back, for trying to reject her in the coldest way, washed over him like a ruinous flood. And in the quiet aftermath of her words, there was a part of him that felt something shift; a crack in the armour he'd built for himself.

Suddenly, before Vae could react, he pulled her into a tight, penitent hug. His arms wrapped around her with a force that conveyed everything he hadn't been able to say, his face burying itself in her lush, floral-scented hair.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I've been such a fool. I never wanted to hurt you. Never." He squeezed tighter, as if trying to make up for the rift he'd thrust between them.

At first, Vae didn't respond, her body stiff in his embrace, but being held with such genuine remorse, his arms trembling with self-condemnation, shattered her resolve. The fight swiftly left her mind, her hands riding up his back as she melted against him.

"Emmrich..."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "You were right, I was scared. Unfathomably scared."

Vae shook her head, clinging to his shirt in an attempt to soothe him. "Don't apologise for being scared. Just... don't shut me out. Please."

"I won't," he said, his bare hand moving to cradle her head. "I won't shut you out. Not again. I promise."

[untildawnss]

until dawn characters overhearing their partner say something positive about them/their relationship

okiedokie [cracks knuckles] i had a shower to wash away the sad and now i'm ready to write the good - this took a good while because i was watching a show while writing lol

this is going to be fluff, i'll find out if anything else happens while writing this. very minor angsty and nsfw mentions.

ashley

"i don't think i've ever loved anyone as much as i love ashley. i still get butterflies when i look at her."

you tossed your phone towards ashley so she could order pizza while you were busy writing an assignment on your laptop. when she unlocked it, the chat with your best friend was still open, your last text the one about ashley. "i didn't know you were a big ol' sap." ashley shifted on the couch and leaned her head against your shoulder. "huh?" you stopped typing and furrowed your brow. "what are you talking about?" - "oh, just that text about me you sent earlier." she was already scrolling through the menu, looking for your favourite pizza. "were you snooping?" - "i didn't have to. you never close your apps." you nodded your head. it was true, you never did. "i get butterflies, too. ever since we met. maybe we're soulmates." she leaned in to kiss you.

beth

"hannah, oh my god, i'm so happy to see you. did you know that i love beth soooooo much? she's the best. i want to marry her. do you think she would want to marry me?"

beth tried to interrupt your drunken ramblings. her twin sister was on the couch next to you, snoring, and you had woken up while she was trying to clear the empty pizza boxes from the coffee table. you had immediately pulled her into a tight hug and happily babbled on about beth for a minute until you fell asleep again. beth carefully removed herself from your arms and decided that she wasn't really in the mood to clean up after you and hannah, you were perfectly capable of doing that yourself in the morning. and she was only a little offended that you had mistaken her for her sister. it was kind of fun to know how you talked about her when you thought she wasn't there.

chris

"josh, chris just texted me 'can we talk?' and i am freaking out. is he breaking up with me? please tell me he's not breaking up with me. he's honestly the best boyfriend i've ever had and i-"

josh groaned. "i told him not to text you that. chris, what's wrong with you?" you heard some crinkling, the muffled sounds of josh and chris whispering and then what sounded like a slap before josh let you know that he was handing the phone over to chris now. "hey, sorry about that. josh's hand and the back of my head just had a meet and greet." - "good for you? what the fuck was that text about, chris?" more whispering. "chris?" - "yeah, sorry. so remember how you just said that i'm the best boyfriend ever?" you sighed. "looking back, i probably wouldn't have said it if i had known you were listening." chris cleared his throat. "well, actually, i was thinking that you're the best partner i've ever had and i wanted to ask you to move in with me and so i decided to send you a text to ask you to talk about it." - "can you actually put josh back on for a second?" whispering again, until you heard josh's voice. "what's up?" - "can you tell chris that i love him and will move in with him but that he seriously needs to work on the way he brings up serious topics?"

emily

"you might not like her but i love her. she's the best thing that ever happened to me and if you just bothered to get to know her, you'd know that she's actually smart and funny and great. she actually shows up for me, do you?"

emily knew that your family hated her. they saw her as a stuck-up mean girl with expensive tastes and were worried that she was just using you until someone better came along. she hated that her relationship with you was causing all these fights with your family because they thought they knew better. this was the worst fight you'd ever had with them and she'd never heard you yell like that. "no, i'm done talking. don't bother calling again until you accept that i'm an adult and make my own decisions." emily heard you swearing before you knocked on the bedroom door and walked in. you were half-dressed, the original plan had been to go out for dinner. emily was still sitting in front of her vanity, absent-mindedly twirling a blending brush between her fingers. your phone buzzed again. "i swear to god," you muttered through clenched teeth as you declined the call. "rain check?" emily asked, already putting away the brush and looking for her make up wipes. "please." she looked at you through the mirror. "i'm sorry for asking but i think i need help getting out of this dress." - "oh, so you're flirting with me? right now?" you couldn't help but smile. "if you want me to. or you could just tell me how smart and funny and great i am while i order dinner." - "i can do that."

hannah

"dear hannah, your glasses are very cute and look really good on you. you have a really pretty face and i have a crush on you."

"dear hannah, do you want to go out with me?"

"dear hannah, you were really good as juliet in the senior year play."

"oh my god, what's this?" hannah picked up the loose papers that had slid all over the wooden floor of the living room in your new apartment. "what? oh, oh no. i thought i'd thrown those away. they're so old." - "i didn't know you had a crush on me back in high school. wow, we really could have gotten together years ago." you were on your hands and knees, trying to grab the old, unfinished love letters you had never had the courage to slip into hannah's locker or bag. "what? you liked me in high school?" - "who did you think sent you all those valentines? i didn't know you liked my glasses back then." before long both of you were on the floor, reminiscing about all the near confessions you had accidentally dodged.

jess

"we'd love to go out for drinks with you guys, but i have plans with my super hot girlfriend and i wouldn't miss it for the world and she has plans with me. oops, putting our phones on do not disturb now."

you sent the text to the group chat and turned to jess. the two of you were on the couch, wearing sweatpants and facemasks. numerous candles were illuminating the living room and there was a romcom playing on the TV. "super hot girlfriend, is that right?" jess was smiling, the hydrating sheet mask wrinkling and folding around her mouth. "oh, very." you were sipping wine through a straw. "and you'd rather be at home doing skincare and watching a movie with me?" - "are you kidding me? i get to have a few drinks, hang out with my favourite person in the world AND wake up with great skin. what more could a person want?" - "you're not so bad yourself."

josh

"ugh, i know, right? he's smart, he's hot, he's kinda weird but in that cute and quirky way and when i look at him, i want to start writing poems or love songs. it's actually disgusting how perfect i think he is."

josh and you were at a bar with a group of friends and while josh had gone to get more drinks and a few others were playing pool, one of them had taken the opportunity to tease you about the way the two of you adored each other. neither of you didn't realise that josh was already on his way back to the table and heard every word you said. he stopped for a few seconds to compose himself, thinking that you'd probably be embarrassed if you knew that he heard you talking about him. the rest of the night, josh was in a, to you, inexplicably good mood but when you asked what had him smiling like that he said that he was just having fun. you narrowed your eyes and looked at him, suspiciously. "what did you do?" - "nothing, i swear." a few hours later you were on your way home, your hand in josh's while he was swinging them back and forth. "what is up with you today? i could pass out right here and now. how are you not tired?" josh's smile was as wide as ever. "it's nothing, really. i'm just happy i met you."

matt

"i wouldn't dream of breaking uncle matt's heart. pinkie promise. when we get married you can be flower girls."

matt's nieces had begged you to play tea party with them. they were extraordinarily good at offering you tea while giving you the third degree. yes, i love your uncle matt a lot. yes, i hope your uncle matt loves me, too. yes, we live together. no, i won't break up with uncle matt. you thought meeting matt's parents for the first time would be intimidating. his nieces were almost terrifying. finally, matt came to save you when they started asking about babies. you waved goodbye to the girls. "so it's when, not if we get married?" you looked at matt and your heart skipped a beat, he was smiling warmly. "well, i mean, i guess-" you sputtered. "wait, you were listening and you let them interrogate me?" - "oh, do you want to go back and tell them how many kids we're gonna have?"

mike

"yes, i know he's handsome. like absolute dreamboat, straight out of a disney movie handsome."

"oh, you better watch your mouth, that's my boyfriend you're talking about."

"oh no, he's an only child. but i think he has cousins. doubt he left any hot for the rest of them, though."

you hadn't heard mike come home and he was trying really hard to respect your privacy but the bedroom door was ajar and you were always louder when you were talking on the phone, especially when talking to your best friend whom he was due to meet this upcoming weekend. and he couldn't deny it, he was curious what you had to say about him. mike pushed the bedroom door open slowly, you had your back to him and were scrolling on your phone with your earphones in. "busy?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and grinning widely when you jumped and almost tumbled off the bed. "what the fuck, mike? when did you get here?" you said a quick goodbye to your friend and put your phone on the bedside table. "oh, not that long ago." he crossed his arms, still grinning at you. "but go on, what were you saying about me?" mike inched towards the bed, his face now scrunched up in mock-confusion. "something about me being super hot, i think." - "i never said super hot." he put the back of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes, feigning hurt this time. "you wound me." then, before you knew it, he was straddling you, his lips barely an inch from yours as he was running his hands down your sides, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "guess i'll have to change your mind, then."

sam

"my girlfriend just opened her own gallery and i'm super proud of her. do you have anything on the menu that's fancy and says 'i love you so much, you're gonna do great' and, most importantly, is also vegan? is champagne vegan? do you have vegan champagne?"

sam heard you whispering to the hostess as she walked through the doors behind you. so that's why you wanted her to park the car. she smiled at the hostess and rolled her eyes slightly, affectionately, pointed and you and then at herself while mouthing i'm the girlfriend. the hostess nodded and asked you to wait just a few more minutes, your table was almost ready. "you know i'm just a cog in the machine and the gallery isn't actually my own, right?" sam had sauntered over and was looking at you with one eyebrow raised in amusement. "you're still an active partner and the face of the gallery. so why bother explaining?" - "oh, i'm not complaining. just wondering if you hit your head. but now i don't feel bad about letting you wine and dine me."

[dood-itsradical]

Twenty.

Pairing: Jaegyeon Na x GN!Reader

Summary: Just you and King of Incheon being idiots.

Genre/Trope: Frenemies. Friends with benefits.

Warnings/Details: Crackfic, cussing, nudes, sex mentioned, smoker reader, reader farted, no use of Y/n. Event set post Cheonliang arc.

A/N: I'm so normal for this ding dong. I do NOT take requests btw!

Masterlist

“Then they fucking trashed my fucking car. Are you fucking kidding me? Fucking assholes.” Jaegyeon grumbled, brushing his hair back as you listened to him rambling about the passing of his Initial N. Brutal, you thought as you lit up a cigar between your lips.

He clicked his tongue, brushing away the smoke off his way. “Can you not?” You hardly give him a glance, inhaling and puffing out more smokes.

“So, about that James Lee dude.” You reminded him, technically to distract him by bringing the main topic back since it always worked like a charm. He blinked then continued, “Yeah, that. So I completely beat his ass and you know the rest.”

You raised a brow, “Right.” bringing your hand behind your head as you leaned on the headboard beside him. The white cover draped loosely on your abdomen, keeping both of you warm. You know damn well he's mostly bluffing, but you're too lazy to dig down deeper in the story. You could care less about what happened regarding the King of Cheonliang. But the story intrigued you nonetheless.

Randomly your stomach feeling funny, you had an idea. Well, not exactly. It's just a casual thing you'd do, so you just let the toot out under the blanket between your cheeks.

“That is fucked up.” Jagyeon commented, giving you a disgusted face.

“It wasn't even that bad.”

“Yah.” He retorted.

You shrugged without feeling any sense of remorse. “What? Like you never let out a huge one? It doesn't even smell.” He scoffed at this. “How'd you know?”

You pulled the blanket over to his head while being mindful of the cigar between your fingers. “Smell it, smell it then.”

He swept his hands, pushing them back with frustration. “Yah! Stop it!” He grimaced. You stopped your actions and continued teasing him. “See? It doesn't smell. Big farts don't smell, silent ones do.”

He baffled, gawking at your words. “That wasn't loud enough! So theoretically it does smell.” He shook his head with disapprovals, shifted away from you while covering his nose. Instead he got off the bed to the counter showing his glory. Your eyes trailed at his back before glancing elsewhere.

“Put something on, damnit.”

Jaegyeon poured the hot water into the ramen cups, “You've seen and touched ‘em all. Don't be a sourpuss, you just farted.” He comes back to the bed and hands one to you. You accepted it, putting away the cigar on the ashtray as he joined you once again.

The air is currently calm despite the usual banter. It's something both of you would rather get run over by a truck than admitting. Call it childish but you guys have said and exposed enough during your activities. No need to bring them up again as those were merely for ego boost.

Blowing your food, you shoved them in your mouth. As you chewed you spoke, “Oppa, you got twenty on ya?”

“Oh. Hang on.” As a response he pretended to go through his ‘pocket’ before pulling out his middle finger. You threw him a dirty look back then rolled on your side, exposing your bare back with your ass sticking out. His eyes followed shamelessly before realising you snatching on his Gucci bag from the floor for his wallet. He takes action immediately, eyes widened and all. “Oi, oi.” He put his ramen on the nightstand to stop you. But you were faster. He let out a groan when your bare foot met his face, pushing him back.

“Yah!!” He exclaimed, using his iron grip instead to pull on your ankle towards him. However you hardly reacted to his strength as you continued to snoop around his wallet. You checked out his cards and ID first before going through his cash, taking some dough out with satisfaction.

Feeling pissed off, he gave you a harsh smack on the ass which caused you to let out a loud yelp. You couldn't see it but you aren't an idiot to know he obviously leaves an obvious red handprint on you.

“What the fuck?!” You cried angrily at him, turning and kicked him square on the face, sending him backward as he fell off the bed with a loud thud. “Ah ssibal!” He cussed loudly but you knew that's barely anything to keep him down. He got back up again, seething with anger at you. You glared back but it quickly changed when he literally leaped onto you. “C’mere you piece of shit!

He pinned you down, pushing his weight on you for all your worth. Not caring if you started to suffocate. Yet again he never really took any consideration about hurting you since you hurt him just the same. Equal right, equal fight a wise person used to say.

“You ugly fuck, get off of me.” You grunted. “It's just fucking twenty.” The King of Incheon ignored your protest, barely budgeted against you. He pushed his hair back then brought his hand behind your neck to pull you closer as he breathed heavily onto your face.

You exhaled sharply, shifting your hips before picking up the sensation of his hardened bazongas. You rolled your eyes with annoyance. “Fuck, are you seriously right now?” Your face scrunched up. His lips hovered inches from yours, “Don't blame me.” and crashed onto your lips with a hungry yet sloppy kiss.

You returned the kiss as he brought you both back in the middle of the bed without parting himself from your lips. Snaking his hand from your hips to your legs and wrapped them around his waist. He rolled his hips possessively with slight desperation to silently declared a second round.

He pulled away, breathing onto your jaw as he left butterfly kisses on your skin. His hips pushed further into yours with a patient pace. “Forget the twenty. Dinner's on me then we'll go buy you some pretty stuff.” But of course, who are you to decline?

[hobgoblinsandpeachfuzz]

Love is learned over time 'Til you're an expert in a dying field

Fic below the cut:

He was much too old to be as flummoxed as he was, but Emmrich and Alas’s flirtation was so new, so fresh, that he was not certain what to do at all. He hardly had realized that it had begun until Alas even said anything after their walk through the Memorial Gardens. It felt like being struck by lightning, a thrill to his senses, permission granted to indulge in thoughts he had attempted to keep quiet until now. 

Then, all too quickly, it seemed to vanish, after their battle in the Crossroads with the Revenant Dragon. He reached out, called to Alas, and Alas turned away, and did not speak to anyone as they returned to the Lighthouse. 

Affection, flirtation, infatuation, he was no expert in. But grief. Emmrich understood grief. And as a Mourn Watcher and a spirit caller, it was his solemn duty to aid those in their time of grief, more than anything. So when he heard the tinkling of piano keys in the middle of the night (or as close as he could tell, with the Fade and its ever inconsistent and shifting notions of light and dark), he sought out its source, and found Alas, bent over the piano, toiling away, alone.

He was already in the doorway, but he did not wish to startle, so he knocked all the same. Alas barely moved, though his head turned lightly, only to stare back at the keys. Emmrich’s heart sank. This was not how he had come to know Rook. Rook was jubilant, energetic, bouncing from here to there despite his age, always smiling, always ready with a quip and a laugh, racing to and fro, and never really stopping. To see them so still was–Emmrich sucked in a breath, and pressed the fear away at once. It would not do. He would simply have to assess the gripping and icy chill that threatened to effuse him at the thought of Alas’s lifeless body another time. For now, the living and breathing Alas was here and present and in need.

“May I sit?” he asked, thinking of taking a seat by the piano, across from him. But Alas scooted over on the bench, a wordless invitation. That was a positive sign, and Emmrich could not hide the small smile it brought to his face as he sat beside Rook.

It was best to be conversational in these matters. Slowly build to the topic at hand. To press too quickly would have the subject retreat. Wisps and people were oh so more alike than either considered, in that regard. “I didn’t know you played.”

He could not see his eyes from behind the curtain of his gray hair, but he saw Rook’s lips press together before answering. A gesture of shyness, perhaps. He could not imagine Alas as shy. “That’s what I was for. Back then. I served in June’s court, and I was his musician.”

Emmrich nodded. He had known that Alas was, much like Solas himself, an ancient elf, though the particulars were different with Alas than the Dread Wolf. Bellara had informed him as much, and he had been present for at least one of the Dread Wolf’s memories in the crossroads, where Alas had stopped, dead in their tracks, to stare at the face of the General who gave commands in those visions of the past. But speculation was not helpful. He would wait for Rook to tell him exactly. Even if he was curious for reasons beyond those of a Mourn Watcher.

“Do you play other instruments as well?”

They nodded, a wry little smile returning just faintly to their face, finally turning to look the whole music room over, and Emmrich could see how bone tired the poor elf looked. He had not been sleeping. Emmrich knew that. Alas brushed the concerns off whenever the rest of them tried to discuss it, that he had had plenty of sleep in the elven state of Uthenara, but from what Emmrich knew, that was not the same, and could not help. 

“I was made to be an expert in them all,” Alas sighed. “I sang, I danced, all the fancy little tricks to entertain. Came to a point that I hated doing any of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” they were looking at him now, finally, their golden eyes soft and piercing. Oh, but he’d been a fool to not realize that he was already far too deep with this infatuation, but he pressed a fist to his chest, and willed his heart to stop with its fluttering. Alas finally looked back at the keys, and their smile was gone. “Fel… Fel helped me love music again.”

“The General?” Emmrich had never been a jealous sort. It was a pathetic and silly emotion, and envy never featured in his ventures through the fade. There were other spirits and demons that sought him out. But now, he focused decidedly on Rook’s long fingers, dancing across the keys, playing a soft, quiet, and slow melody, something that sounded like the wish from one long ago, and tried not to think about the clear intensity of Alas’s devotion. “I would love to hear more about him.”

That brought the smile back to Alas’s face, a gentle thing this time. The melody picked up, no less soft, but firmer in its dedication, in its proud major notes. 

“He was my General. I was his lieutenant. That’s who we were in the war, yeah. But there was so much more to him. He was my first friend. The first person who saw me for who I really wanted to be. When the war was over, and the veil went up, he put us both in uthenara, and awoke us years later. He’d do that, over and over, desperate to see but also not wanting to harm. He was dedicated to discovering this new world Solas left behind, and helping where he could. I followed him to the ends of Thedas and back.”

“He was funny, you know. He loved to tease and make riddles of even the simplest ideas. I think he liked the thought that people viewed him as mysterious, when really he was the most forthright and honest person you could find. I think it was his own little joke against Solas really. And I think he went back into uthenara all those times to… To try to make Solas see the beauty that we were finding.” Alas’s voice shook, and his eyes shone. 

Envy was clearly not only infecting Emmrich. A dark look flashed in Alas’s eyes, before they closed them tight. “Fel never gave up on Solas. Not once. No matter… What I said.”

They stopped playing now, and wrapped their hands into fists, placing them on their knees, like the piano had burnt them.

“Then, sometime, I don’t know, in the age before this one at least… I got injured, fairly badly,” he gestured to his face, and the bit of his chest that Emmrich could see. Their scars, proudly worn, dancing around the scars that he must have chosen. “Protecting him,” he laughed. “I don’t… I don’t think he ever loved me the way I loved him, but he was broken up about it. Said he didn’t want to lose me, that he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d sacrifice myself for him. So he put me into Uthenara alone. Promised he’d wake me up when I was better.”

“I woke up when he died. When Solas killed him.”

“How… How did you find out?” he couldn’t help but wonder. 

Alas shrugged. “Part of me just knew, but I did ask. There was some girl Felassan had been helping. Hear she’s a big deal in Orlais now. And then I confirmed with Solas as soon as the bastard got stuck in my head.” He held himself now, and swallowed hard, mouth opening and closing a few times, as if the next sentence would slip out against their will. 

Alas’s whole body shuddered, and as he choked out a sob, Emmrich, though uncharacteristically nervous to do so, reached out, and stroked their back. Electricity shot through him when Alas leaned into his touch, clutching him. “And he’s everywhere here! I keep finding pieces of him, letters, notes, the way he arranged his books, the plants that grow, I can’t–I can’t stop seeing him! But he’s not here, Emmrich! I have looked and looked and I can’t even find the spirit of him! It’s like I lose him again and again every time I go into the crossroads!”

A wellspring of feeling had been unleashed, and Alas, nestled in Emmrich’s arms, simply cried for some time. He suspected that they had needed this for a very long time indeed. Millenia, perhaps. Something within him held Alas tighter than he might any other mourner, closer to his chest, stroking his hair. A fire was lit within him, and all he wanted was not simply to comfort this strange, beautiful person he was coming to know, but to take this pain far, far away, so that it may never reach Alas again. He knew, of course, that was not the proper way of things, that grief was a valuable gift–the memory that love happened, and it was there. But now, all he wished for was that it did not have to touch Alas, and take away the joyous, brash, bright spirit he knew. 

Alas’s tears started to slow, and the two of them just sat there, on the piano bench, Emmrich whispering soft things, as Alas took deep, shaky breaths. 

“I’m sorry, Em,” he coughed, and Emmrich held him tighter. “I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hush, my dear. What else do you think a Mourn Watcher is for?” 

“I’m sorry I… I shook you away. After the dragon.” 

“That’s quite alright, Rook. I understand,” and he did. He’d been hurt and confused and fearful before, and even now, part of him still was frightened, that this tenuous, small thing that had just started was simply a beginning meant to go nowhere, that Alas’s heart was spoken for and could never be reached again. But he also knew that was not fair, and that was not how the Mourn Watchers taught him. He just had to remember. “I overstepped perhaps. I will refrain from terms of endearment from now on, if that is beneficial.”

Alas shot up, and looked him dead in the eye, his eyes wide and worried. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” his heart had begun hammering again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him this flustered. But Alas was remarkably efficient at throwing off every bit of balance Emmrich had. 

“I,” Rook started, and while their body language betrayed that perhaps they wanted to shrink away again, they did not stop looking right into Emmrich’s eyes. “I like it. I like you.”

His face felt hot. It was his turn to look away, to give ground, flushed and unused to this kind of attention. 

And while he understood, yes, of course, he understood, his heart… did sink a little at Rook’s next words. “It’s just… Fel.”

This Felassan would always be there, deep within Alas’s soul, a fire that would never go out, a part of him, intrinsically. The things that Emmrich was coming to greatly admire in Alas were also parts of Felassan. That was how life worked. That was how love worked.

And he was a Mourn Watcher. He understood. And perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, it was better. He’d gotten his hopes perhaps a bit too high, knowing he had secrets of his own. Emmrich looked back at Alas, clasped his shoulders good-naturedly, and smiled. 

“I completely understand, my dear. By the by, are you still injured?” Changing topics was a good plan. He wasn’t sure how much more of Alas’s soft amber eyes he could take, looking at him like he was a puzzle, an anchor, a star. 

Their nose twitched, and they looked askance, shrugging. “Nothing a potion couldn’t handle.”

“Potions have their work cut out for them if those who imbibe them do not rest. Come, my dear,” he took Alas’s hands in his, and lifted the both of them gently from the piano bench. “You should sleep.”

Rook looked ready to protest, but finally, nodded, allowing Emmrich to help lead them to their room. He deposited his charge onto their small, narrow chaise, and moved to leave, before Alas caught his hand. 

Their hands were rough, callused and strong. The long fingers of a musician, and the sturdiness of a warrior. Emmrich felt like his whole arm would light, getting to hold Alas’s hand. 

“I do. Like you. Quite a bit, actually,” Rook smiled, and there was a hint of blush under that ruddy tan of his cheeks. Emmrich’s heart skipped a beat, like a school boy. “Thank you. I hope you know that.”

His throat felt tight, his own secrets threatening to spill out. But he wanted very much to just live in this lovely little infatuation, just a bit longer. It felt light and dizzying and just a bit like being alive. 

Instead, he just smiled, and laid a gentle kiss on Rook’s hand. “Get some sleep, my dear.” 

It was all he trusted himself to do.

[kquil]

hi hope ure okay 🤗 will u be posting a chapter 7 preview?

i'm doing great, thank you (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)♡ i've been getting pretty busy lately and have just gotten over my monthly visit with mother nature (ಥ‿ಥ) so i'm sorry for being late with my preview. here it is for you!

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER 7 (PREVIEW)

Screams rang out through the night, horrific and painful, that was what had woken Sirius up. Shaken by the disturbing sound, Sirius clambers out of bed to look out of the dorm room window. Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing. 

“What is that screaming?” Sirius utters, his grey eyes searching the landscape through his window for some form of explanation. 

“I don’t know but Remus still hasn’t returned,” James speaks up from the shadows, nearly making Sirius jump out of his skin. 

“W-wait, Remus isn’t back yet?” Peter asks, also slipping out of bed and the three make their way over to their friend’s absent bunk. “Where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” James grins and holds up a cloak. 

“How is that gonna help us find out where Rem—” Sirius begins, rubbing his eyes from sleep but stutters to a stop when James’ figure disappears beneath the fabric. The eldest Black brother shares a look of surprise with Peter before turning a grin back to James who was now a floating head. 

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

“Will we all be able to fit inside?” Peter’s eyes swim with a healthy level of uncertainty, only to be pulled under the cloak despite his protests. 

“We’ll fit, just keep in time with my pace and be very very quiet,”James warns and the two nod affirmatively, Sirius being much more enthusiastic compared to Peter’s hesitance. 

“I hope we find, Remus soon,” Sirius comments under his breath, pressed against James’ right as Peter staggers along at James’ left. 

“I know… with all that screaming outside, I hope he isn’t in any trouble.” The three make their way to the hospital wing but falter at a hallway junction. Which way was the hospital wing again? 

“I-I think we should go right,” Peter helpfully stutters after some thought. 

“I thought it was left?” Sirius scratches at his head as James gnaws on his inner cheek. The three collectively decide to go right for the time being and if it was wrong, they simply turn back and go the other way. 

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

Seated at your desk, you suppress the groans of discomfort that were being conducted through the walls from Orion’s private office — you can’t believe he’s still hasn’t asked Kreacher for a healing potion. But you suppose it’s fitting that his ego is making him suffer more at this point. You savour the sounds of his pain for only a few moments more before calling for Kreacher yourself. 

“Mistress has called for Kreacher?” the hunched house elf immediately asks after appearing before you with a pop. He remains ever aged and wrinkled but his unruffled demeanour and, somewhat, contented expression certainly makes him appear brighter. 

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a skeptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing, “it seems my fainting spells are getting to me and tampering with my memories,” At this, Kreacher’s expression morphs into worry and he begins to clutch tightly at his ragged clothes while falling into rambles upon rambles of heightening anxiety for your health. It was a rather endearing sight, knowing someone cares so deeply for your well-being, but you think the poor elf might just self-induce a heart attack if you let him continue like this, “it’s okay though Kreacher, I’m okay. Please just tell me about that secret room?”

Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

“Parlour?”

“The private parlour, Mistress, yes,” Kreacher nods, subconsciously flattening the wrinkles of his clothes with his hands, standing a little straighter and subtly puffing out his chest, “the powerful, esteemed ladies like to talk in priiiivateeee,” he drags out the word in a low tone, which spikes your interest and reaffirms your speculation on the room being used for dark purposes. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Regulus reads his letter again and nods in satisfaction. This was his third draft of it but he felt his efforts to be worthwhile. Letters were a special occasion and something that made a person feel immediately special when they read a letter that’s addressed specifically to them so he wanted to put in a good effort for Sirius. He just hopes it reaches him in good time. 

“Mother,” Regulus stands with his letter in hand, ready for postage, “my letter is finished, may I deliver it Sirius now, please?”

You smile warmly and nod, slipping Alphard’s letter into the main drawer of your desk. With a small wave of your hand, you gesture him over to you, “would you like to give it a wax seal?”

Regulus’ eyes sparkled with excitement, “I’m allowed?”

“Of course, little love, come here,” you pull him into your lap and gesture to the apparatus around you to create a wax seal.

“First, pick out the coloured wax you want for your seal,” Regulus picks metallic silver wax, a perfect choice for the black envelope he was sending it in, a signature of the Black Family. “Now you put it in this little spoon and melt it over the candle,” with an eager nod, Regulus holds the spoon over the candlelight and the two of you wait for it to melt together. 

“I think it’s melted now mother,” 

“Let me see…” he shows you, swirling around the liquid wax to demonstrate it’s fluidity and grins at your approving nod, “good good. Get the seal ready,” he diligently takes the Black Family seal in his other hand, “now, when you stamp the wax, don’t wiggle it around or else the design will get muddled,” Regulus gives an affirming nod and waits for your instruction to pour the wax before stamping it. He doesn’t wiggle it as you’ve advised. After a few moments, you whisper that it was finally okay for him to take away the stamp and he gasps in delight at the beautiful seal that was left behind. 

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Would you like to post it or ask Kreacher to post it for you?” 

“I’d like to post it please,” his request pulls you away from your desk, just in time as it was nearing 5pm already. You patiently lead him to the family owl and watch with a smile as he hands over his letter and waves off the owl with a cheer. “Sirius is going to love the letter, darling,”

“I hope he sends one back soon!”

“I don’t doubt that he will,”

navi. | series masterlist

i hope you darlings enjoyed the preview and are looking forward to the full chapter on 1st December!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ

[wannabanauthor]

What should happen to BuckTommy in Season 8b

Eddie's thinking about moving to Texas, right?

Well, he has to pack, and he calls his two favorite buff men to help him pack and load all his stuff.

Tommy did not know Buck was going to be there, and vice versa.

They stare awkwardly at each other before noticing that most of Eddie's stuff is already packed.

Cheeky bastard.

He locks them both in his house with the parting, "Figure it the fuck out, then I'll unlock the doors."

Buck and Tommy are more than able to break down the door if necessary, but that wouldn't be a nice thing to do to their best friend's house.

They try to out-wait Eddie, but several hours pass with no communication from him.

Buck is doing his best to not look or talk to Tommy, but all the doors are locked, including the bedrooms, so he's stuck in the living room.

The kitchen doesn't have any baking/cooking ingredients, just prepared food in the fridge.

Buck is without his coping mechanism, and at some point he breaks down crying in the kitchen.

Tommy wants to comfort him, but he knows he's the reason Buck is like this, so he feels stuck and doesn't know what to do.

He hands Buck a tissue and some water, but Buck turns around and ignores him, trying to hide his sobs.

Tommy goes back to the living room and sits on the floor.

"Why?" he hears Buck say.

He gets back up and goes into the kitchen.

"Why what?" Tommy asks.

"Why did you give me a second chance just to break my heart six months later? Why didn't you tell me that you only saw us as a temporary thing? Why did you even give me hope that we could be something more?" Evan asks, in between sobs.

"Evan, I'm so-"

"It's Buck. You don't get to call me Evan anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Buck stops crying and looks at Tommy. There's anger and heartbreak written all over his face.

"Fuck you, you don't get to be sorry," Buck says.

"But I am. I didn't plan any of it. It just happened. You asked me to move in, and I panicked. I've been hurt before, and I knew I couldn't survive it if I moved in and then lost you."

Buck scoffed, but out of irony, not amusement.

Tommy stepped closer to him, and Buck remained where he was, almost as if he was sizing Tommy up.

"You kept putting me on this pedestal, and I knew one day you'd see me for who I am and leave," Tommy says.

"Is that what you think of me? Out of the two of us, you're the one who has left me, twice," Buck points out, and Tommy winces at that.

"You're very impulsive, and we hadn't even broached that topic before. I thought I was okay with you setting the pace, but I guess I wasn't. I thought it was in our best interest to end things now then later when it would hurt more."

Tommy pauses for a moment and looks at Buck. Really looks at him. His own heart breaks when he picks up on the little details of how Buck had been handling the breakup, The flour under his fingernails, his stubble, his longer curls, the bags under his eyes, the fidgeting with what's ever in reach, currently tissues being torn into little bits.

Tommy knows in his heart that he practically broke the man he loves, and it makes him feel even worse. There is still a part of him that wants to run, but he can't run again. Not after seeing Evan like this.

"I'm scared, Evan," Tommy confesses.

Buck's head snaps up in surprise, and he squints his eyes as if he doesn't trust Tommy.

Tommy feels the panic rise within him, but continues his train of thought. "Evan, I love you. But i'm terrified that one day you'll get tired of me and find someone else. It's happened before, and-"

"I'm not him. I'm me. From the first moment we met, I knew that I wanted to be with you. I didn't understand it at first because it felt so different from my past. I mean, you're not the first guy I've had a crush on. At all," Evan says.

Tommy clears his throat uncomfortably. He'd rather not think about Evan's past crushes.

"We spent nearly every free moment we've had together," Evan says. "I thought we were ready to move to the next step."

"I wasn't ready, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have stayed and talked it out, but it felt like the room was closing in on me, and I needed to leave."

"And you left, then ignored me for weeks," Evan says. "I felt like I was going insane and imagined our whole relationship."

Tommy steps into Evan's space and uses two fingers to lift Evan's chin. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Evan. I love you so much, and I'm terrified because it's never felt like this before."

Evan gives an amused chuckle. "I guess it was my turn to see you at your worst."

Tommy cups Evan's cheeks. "I am so sorry, for everything. I feel like I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm still ask-"

Evan cuts him off with a kiss.

Tommy relaxes and kisses him back. It feels like coming home after a long day of work to the arms of his partner. He never wants that feeling to leave.

"I love you too, asshole," Evan whispers against Tommy's lips.

They both chuckle at that.

"Where do we go from here?" Evan asks.

"Couple's counseling. I want us to work. I want us to be forever," Tommy says and gives Evan the tenderest kiss.

"That works," Evan replies between kisses.

They don't stop kissing or holding each other until they're nearly out of breath.

"Finally!" they hear from outside and jump.

Eddie's standing outside with his phone in hand, and on the screen is a live camera feed showing.

"Now, let's get something to eat," Tommy says and kisses Evan again. He was going to kill and thank Eddie, but for now, he's happy just to be with Evan again.

He looks into Evan's eyes and knows that this is it for him. Evan's the one.

[fordtato]

I watched the new Ford vid and I wanted to share some thoughts I had on some of the points in your video. Before anything else, I want to say how much I absolutely fucking love everything you do and that, in my opinion, this video is especially spectacular. My intention here is to show my appreciation for your work by demonstrating how I’ve paid attention to it and thought about it, because I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t care, but I’m definitely not trying to criticize or anything. So, keeping that in mind, I’d like to add some thoughts to a couple points that I feel could’ve been expanded upon, even though the video was already five hours long.

First off, when it comes to the science fair thing, the only point where I do kind of blame Ford is that perpetual motion machines are physically impossible and also delicate. I just think he should’ve made something else and, at the very least, checked on it the morning of the fair and I actually think it’s a little ooc that he put all that effort into making it and was so invested in the fair but then didn’t bother to even look at it before the fair itself. There’s also never any recognition of the fact that something like a perpetual motion machine could literally stop at any point for any number of reasons that wouldn’t require external interference. I don’t think it’s a sin or moral failing like some of the other things people said on the topic of the science fair, but I do think there is some responsibility there on Ford’s end that doesn’t get discussed as much.

The second thing is that I just think that the Book of Bill is pretty openly interpretable in terms of whether it’s fully accurate and canon or not, since it’s made by such a flagrant liar. I respect and appreciate that you view the lost journal pages as canon material that, in universe, was written by Ford, but I also feel like it’s important to acknowledge that we don’t really know for sure one way or another unlike with Journal 3.

My next point is that, on the topic of Ford wanting his house back, it’s everything you said and I would add that Stan staying in the house would require their reconciliation. At the time Ford said that, they were actively in conflict with each other after being in separation for 30 years, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t want Stan to keep living with him given all the tension and unresolved resentment. Especially in tandem with the other things you pointed out, I think it makes complete sense that Ford wouldn’t want Stan to keep living there.

So then, when it comes to Ford being upset with Stan because of how Stan ignored all his warnings and opened the portal anyway, my biggest issue has always been Ford’s hypocrisy here. I can appreciate that, even though everything turned out alright, Stan’s choice to open the portal was objectively bad and Ford is valid for being upset, but he’s the one who ignored all the warnings when he summoned Bill in the first place. While I’d never blame him for being a victim of Bill’s abuse, I do 100% blame him for blowing past all the warnings and reading that incantation in the cave, and it’s hypocritical for him to be mad at Stan for doing the same thing.

Next is the “bumbling leech” quote, and my thought here is just that it makes sense for Ford to tell himself that as like a coping mechanism. When he and Stan were in separation, I imagine it would’ve been easier to tell himself stuff like that and try to believe it and try to stay mad to keep his distance, especially once he was on the other side of the portal. After all, keeping a grudge is easier than reconciliation, especially when you and the other person have no emotional intelligence and limited communication skills.

Lastly, when it comes to pathologizing, I think it’s potentially relevant that Stan and Ford are twins so stuff like autism that’s autistic would be a shared trait that both of them have. I just think it could be interesting to get into the genetic components of some of the different diagnoses that have been proposed for Ford, especially NPD since it does have a genetic factor. If people want to act like Ford is a villain because he potentially has NPD, then those same people have to accept that that would mean Stan does to and tbh I’d love to explore how a cluster b disorder like that could potentially make sense with Stan’s character as well. Maybe then we could actually have a nuanced discussion about such things the way you suggested instead of continuing to demonize these disorders, their symptoms, and the people who have them.

Anyway, sorry this was so long but I just wanted to share and I look forward to seeing what else you come out with in the future 🩷

Well, thank you for sharing, though I do think we disagree on a couple of things. As far as a perpetual motion machine being impossible, like, I think that's the point? Like, the idea is "this is an impossible thing, and Ford, being brilliant, figured it out." The idea of "blaming" a 17-year-old for his physics-defying incredible demonstration of a principle that breaks the laws of physics being... not earthquake stable? Or not sturdy enough to survive a punch on the table? I don't know, guys. Like. Lots of marvels of scientific accomplishment are delicate instruments. I think the logic there is faulty. The science fair project falling apart is not Ford's fault. It WAS stable, then something broke. You can't blame him for making an easy-to-break machine. I've seen this argument floating around a lot recently, and I will be honest, it really annoys me. Would it have been smart for him to check under the sheet that Stan put there to hide it? Yeah, maybe. But it feels silly to say that makes him partly "responsible." I dunno. It's all semantics at some point, and it barely makes a difference, but that isn't how I would describe it.

As far as the Lost Journal pages being written by a liar, I did address this in my ATOTS video, and did not repeat myself in the Ford Defense video, but to summarize : I acknowledge that Bill could have lied in these pages, but for the sake of easily having a discussion about it, I do treat it at face value, simply because it would be annoying to need to add that caveat after every point.

(I also am not a personal fan of the theory that it was forged by Bill, but that's a separate topic altogether. No comment beyond that.)

As far as Ford's "hypocrisy" in warning Stan, I think we have different opinions here as well. Like, Ford does not think that Stan ignoring warnings is wrong, but HIM ignoring warnings is okay. He thinks him ignoring the warnings is the biggest mistake of his life and he's deeply angry at himself. If I burned myself on the stove, and then told someone else not to touch the stove because it is hot, I am not being a hypocrite. I am someone who learned something was dangerous.

Even if we disagree here, however, I appreciate you watching, and you taking the time to share your thoughts with me.