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a-star-that-burns-brightly · 2 days

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CH2-13 Thoughts + CH2-14 Predictions

Hello DRDT Fandom! CH2-13 came out about four or so days ago as I'm posting this, and I finally mustered up the energy and mental strength to write down my overall thoughts, and also general predictions for what I think is to come in the next episode. A lot happened in this episode and we have a lot to cover, so let's get started! Before we do though, I think I should give us a reminder of where we currently are in terms of the swear chart and the bingo card, as of CH2-12 Swear Statistics

Bingo Card

Just like the last post, I'll be separating my talking points into character categories, so let's jump straight in with the big man himself...

Levi

Quick Disclaimer: I myself am still trying to unlearn the mindset that having low or no empathy is in any way a moral failing. If I say anything wrong or rude, please politely correct me. Remember kids: Your feelings, thoughts, and emotions, what you feel and how you feel them if you do at all, do not have any moral weight, they are simply aspects of your brain and you cannot control your brain. The only thing that has moral weight is your actions.

So as we learned in the previous episode, Levi has the murderer secret! And as we learn in this episode, he apparently killed four people, one of which being his father. DRDT continues to take Danganronpa's standard tropes and incorporating them in unique ways, in this case Levi represents the trope of the Chapter 2 Serial Killer reveal (Genocide Jack, Peko, Maki). I love that DRDT keeps doing this and I hope it keeps it up You know what else is staying consistent, though?

(x) Levi: That incident happened when I was in my junior year of high school. Levi: My junior year was also the year that Hope's Peak scouted me as the Ultimate Personal Stylist. Levi: To my understanding, it would've reflected poorly on Hope's Peak to recruit a murderer, so they pressured the court into not pressing charges.

US-HPA being morally corrupt as all fuck, that's what! Like no, seriously, it makes more and more sense as for why Xander David and Mai were most likely forming a revolution against this damn place, cause wow. The choice to scout out Levi during his Junior Year, when he was still in high school, is...interesting. Given that this Hope's Peak takes in College-aged students, why not just wait until Levi has graduated high school? In fact, that probably would've been even better because by then Levi definitely would've perfected his skills in styling by then, and thus would further justify him being enrolled in the academy. We don't know whether or not Levi was scouted before or after his incident, but given how Levi explains the events, I'm willing to bet this was after. Which...makes thing especially strange. But I'm sure it's no big deal. I mean, it's not like we have any evidence of US-HPA preying on vulnerable childre--

(x) Min: The Ultimate Contest for Eminent Students was made for a very specific target audience. Min: Those children who had no talents, who would consider spending their entire lives preparing for one single test for even a chance to become an Ultimate...

Oh. Well isn't that funny, huh?

Part of Hope's Peak's branding in general is the promise of a better future, which is something that Levi clearly wants. So I can most definitely see why the idea of being enrolled in the academy appealed to him. Levi being a delinquent in his teenage years definitely tracks, given how we know that his family was full of bad influences (including himself more than likely). And I am absolutely not surprised that Levi ended up killing his father. I think a lot of us theorized for a while that the person he killed was linked to his family.

I'd absolutely adore to learn more about Levi's family situation and what exactly their relationship with each other was, because "We were bad influences on each other" can mean a lot of things. Given the fact that not even the police cared about the death of Levi's father, I'd be pretty willing to believe that Mr. Fontana is a wanted man who has done a lot of criminal harm to others. That might even be where Levi formed the mindset that people are defined by their actions. Maybe, that's my best guess and it doesn't even include his mother and brothers, lmao. Anyway, that's enough of Murder, Corruption, and Daddy Issues. Let's talk about the other thing that was revealed about Levi this episode, or more-so put into words. His low, if zero empathy. Firstly, those who are headcannoning Levi is ASPD, I see you and I love you. So much. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that my first thought upon watching this scene was "Levi is so Autismcoded" lmao But in all seriousness, I absolutely adore this side of his character. In general something I've always loved about Levi is the fact that he, to put it bluntly, does not know how to act. He's constantly seeing what others do and copying them, and asking them for guidance when he doesn't know what to do. His first appearance shows him using Xander and Teruko's appearances to wager what kind of person they are, which is more than likely how he got into styling in the first place. He's basically masking and trying to appear as what he views as normal because he's aware that his lack of empathy is not something most humans possess. And his actions reflect that of what he thinks a good person would do in these scenarios, whether that be your friends not inviting you to an event, or someone profusely bleeding from their neck. To put it in simple terms: He's masking. I love that. It really reminds me of the experiences had by my neurodivergent friends, and even though Levi is not canonically neurodivergent, the fact that so many people headcannon him with ASPD or Autism really goes to show how DT-Dev nailed that kind of experience, and how well they wrote Levi's low empathy in general. Well-done, DT-Dev :D ...Also I think it's safe to say that Accomplice!Levi is not happening. Damn it, I really liked that theory lmao.

Ace

[not even three minutes later]

...See, this is why I always believed Ace was telling the truth about David and Arei's conversation, because wow this man is competing with the former in the Shitty Liar Olympics.

If Ace's sense of security around Levi wasn't already shattered, it sure as hell is now. Which is very upsetting to see, but also very entertaining to me as an aficionado of toxic yaoi. I was never really an Acevi girl, it was just never something I was attracted to (probably because for a majority of CH2 Part 1's airing I really didn't like Ace lmao), but this combined with the Other Thing I'll talk about later has definitely sold me on it. I hope they get worse.

I can't remember what post it was, but I remember seeing someone talk about Ace very much projecting a friendship onto Levi that was never really there between them, and looking back, I absolutely agree. I mean, where the two of them really friends? I do think that Levi does, or did, genuinely like Ace. I don't think he would've been hanging around him in Chapter 1 if he didn't. But it was simply just that, he liked Ace. Ace loved Levi, and saw him as his lifeboat in the midst of this scary unfamiliar situation. Even if everyone else either was annoyed by or straight-up disliked Ace, even if he could die at any moment, he could still rely on Levi as a presence of safety and security, but that all came crumbling down.

ace can you please change your sprite

The fact that Ace, the man famous for jumping to conclusions, not thinking anything through or in depth, and switching his opinions on others on a dime, is even asking for Levi's defense at all, is proof enough to me that even after everything Ace still wanted to cling onto the fantasy of their friendship he had built up in his mind. But upon hearing that Levi never cared about what happened to him, he can no longer do so. ...And why do I think Ace got attached to Levi so quickly?

(x) Ace: I was totally right all along to burn our friendship--No, I can't even call it it "Friendship." Ace: There's only one person in my whole life who I've ever been able to call my friend. That I ever thought, even for just a short time, that you and I were "friends" is an insult to his memory.

Yeah it's time to talk about this.

So for those who are not in the know, DT-Dev confirmed in a now-deleted ask that this friend of Ace's is named Taylor Riley.

(thank you to @/nicohakobyan / weightedblankett on twitter for providing this screenshot)

We know very little about this man other than his name, his gender, the fact that he was Ace's friend, and that he's dead. We don't actually know that fourth one, but I think "insult to his memory" speaks for itself lmao. As such, we do not know the details of his relationship with Ace... But I've made more out of less before, so let's get to talking. Here's what I think:

I think that Taylor was a presence in Ace's life much similar to how Levi was to him in Chapter 1: A strong protective figure that helped to make the scared-of-everything Ace feel a sense of safety. And then some form of incident happened that resulted in Taylor's death, leaving Ace alone, heartbroken, bitter, and terrified. That sense of security he once had was ripped away from him, and without Taylor, he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

And then in the killing game, he meets Levi, who provides him with a similar feeling of safety. Immediately he begins to project the memory of Taylor onto Levi and as such becomes attached, quickly considering Levi a friend because of it. And I'm not entirely pulling this idea that Ace was projecting Taylor onto Levi out of my ass, either.

Ace: dark blue/purple (reasoning: refuses to provide reasoning)

When we first got this answer, most people assumed this was referring to Levi, but I honestly think it is more likely that this is referring to Taylor. But those colors are still part of Levi's design, which automatically sets up a parallel between both Levi and Taylor Ace projected his relationship and the memory of Taylor onto a man he barely knew, and when that man lost his patience with him, his fantasy was swiftly kicked with the steel-toed shoe of reality. Hell, Ace's reaction after Levi snapped at him may had been due to his illusion of safety crumbling beneath him, but going down the road of this theory, Levi snapping at him might've been the first time Ace truly saw Levi and not Taylor. He had been giving this man a script and a role to play, and Levi responded by tearing up the paper and telling him to fuck off. In a sense, you could say that in that moment, Ace lost Taylor a second time.

Since I don't think Ace is going to be the killer as he was knocked out and thus did not have any knowledge of the murder mechanism (at least not including the theory that he tried to kill himself, which... Is a possibility, but I don't think that's the case). And if he does live past his chapter, I honestly think Chapter 3 will mark his breaking point. Any fantasy of Levi that he was clinging onto with his pinky has now shattered into pieces ten times over, the person who tried to kill him is still alive and for all he knows, could do it again whenever the hell they want to and people will take their side over his own. Next to no one in the cast likes him and they make that explicitly clear, and worse of all, he will still be trapped in this godforsaken...whatever facility this place is meant to be. So to cap off this section that got way too long, Ace Trauma Dump is on my Chapter 3 bingo card, and if we get to see Taylor and his design includes dark blue and purple I will actually become spaghettified. Please survive Ace, you are finally starting to become not C-Tier

Hu and Veronika

Lumping these two together because I have about the same amount to say about both of them and their secrets were revealed together. Hu's secret is the Hopeless Child one, and Veronika's is the Self Harm one. I think after CH2 Part 1 most of us predicted as such, but it's still very satisfying to be right. What I'm more interested is this supposed pact that they made off-screen. I have to assume that Veronika went to Hu pretty quickly to reveal her secret to her given her general disinterest in topics of suicide and self harm. So I'd wager this pact was probably made at around CH2-5. Not that that really tells us much about the actual conversation, but it's nice to have a time-frame for reference.

I don't expect the actual conversation to be shown because from what we currently have it doesn't really add much of anything, but it would definitely be cool.

(x) Hu: I've been quite selfish this whole time, keeping my secret because I didn't want you all to think less of me...

I've said this before in this post, but I absolutely believe that David eventually coaxed and pressured Hu into revealing her secret to him, as well as why she kept it for so long. And I also think David implanted, or I guess more accurately watered the seed in Hu's head that she was inherently selfish for not sharing her secret. That, I think we would benefit from a flashback, but maybe I'm just biased because I desperately want Hu lore. Please DT-Dev, I'm on my knees Hmm... what else?

(x) Veronika: After all, my own so-called secret isn't even the worst thing I've done. Isn't that so utterly disappointing for this motive?

Oh yeah there's that. What the fuck, Veronika? Like, I feel like this is something I should've expected this, but for some reason I didn't. I'll be honest here, I really have nothing right now. But whatever Veronika is referring to here, I feel like it has something to do with her 'dearest friend' mentioned in the CH2 Q&A (who's name is Alyssa Belyaeva.) What Veronika actually did? I do not have the slightest clue, you can never know with this girl. But no matter what she did, I will probably love her even more for it. Glad that DT-Dev seems to agree with the precedence of supporting women's wrongs.

Teruko

...So I'm glad to see we're all in agreement that that is not her fucking secret. I mean, I'm sure it applies to her. She is an orphan, her parents are out of the picture, and though we don't know the whereabouts of her brother and neither does she, she most likely assumes he's dead as well. But honestly, given the fact that again this is not her fucking secret, I'm starting to wonder if that's really the case... Can Teacher Tawaki theory still live on? I'll save that for another post.

Anyway what was I talking about? Oh yeah, that is not her fucking secret.

And this little bitch knows that for a fact.

I won't go too deep into this because there have already been people discussing it better than I could, but this silent agreement the two of them have to not share Teruko's true secret is so palpable and interesting to me. David knows that Teruko's secret isn't that, but for whatever reason, he is keeping his mouth shut. And he just gives Teruko that shit-eating smirk. Have I ever mentioned how much I love Teruvid? I fucking love Teruvid. But yeah, I still think 100% that Teruko's secret is that the killing game is all her fault. It just does not make sense for Xander and Min's secrets to belong to anyone other than each other as they are dead. And in general it just makes sense for Teruko's character and her role in the story. And I can't help but feel like Teruko's actual secret will be revealed at the end of the Chapter.

Eden

... I mean. Do I really need to say more? I swear I made this exact joke in the previous thoughts post, but I can't help it. It applies perfectly to this CG. When this CG, this fucking JUMPSCARE of a CG, popped up on my screen, I'm pretty sure I ran around in a circle screaming in my room for a total of ten minutes. The first of two times I would do that during this masterfully crafted scene. I want to think of some kind of insightful analysis, but the truth is basically in your face. Eden was the one who gouged out Xander's eye. Why did she do it? Where does this fit into the overall lore? I DON'T FUCKING KNOW What the fuck am I supposed to say? This CG is basically all we have, and we'll definitely have to wait for more information. Especially since Eden is totally the culprit, but we'll get to that in the predictions section. (yeah if you can't tell my writing juice is starting to run out, but if I get this out any later than today I will kill myself)

David

(...for a scumbag, he's kinda cute.) So first of all, David is slowly becoming the funniest character in the cast in my opinion, which is a huge achievement in a cast full of very funny characters. And in general I think as a character he perfectly captures DRDT's general tone of half-and-half both silliness and angst, like yin and yang. Secondly though, the big thing that David did in this chapter (besides keeping Teruko's secret and being funny) is lying to Eden about the rest of the conversation he had with Arei. Ultimately, I think David himself saw that action as a good deed.

Think of it from his perspective: This is a man who has had hope and change presented to him on a silver platter multiple times, and then had it violently ripped away from him. And the most recent example of that, Arei, presented him with a better future and the possibility of change only to be killed upon trying to act on said change. If he told Eden that Arei still had hope, that she still wanted to change, it would aspire Eden with that same hope that in his eyes is destined to crash down on her. So instead of inflicting that same pain onto her, he instead chose to say nothing at all Maybe I'm giving David too much credit, what he did was still at the end of the day, incredibly dickish. But that interpretation is what makes the most sense to me personally. That's all I really have to say in regards to David... So, let's move onto what was, in my opinion, the star of this week's episode.

Arei

Arei Nageishi.... Ohhhh save me Arei Nageishi.... Arei was already one of my favorite characters in the cast due to her personality, design, voice acting, and most of all the character development she had throughout the course of Chapter 2. But this episode, this scene... It cemented her a well-earned spot in my top four, sitting only behind Whit, Teruko, and David.

The flashback scene of Arei and David in this episode is honestly up there with some of the best scenes in the whole show to me, almost solely because of how it caps off Arei as a character postmortem, and the story that she, along with Chapter 2 as a whole, is meant to tell. This whole chapter has been themed around the idea of what classifies a good person, and this flashback scene provides such a great payoff to that theme and it is everything I could've ever wished for. The message I got from Arei's story is that, ultimately, the idea of a "Good Person" and a "Bad Person" are nothing more than just that. Ideas. And in being ideas, they are above anything else, arbitrary, subjective, and at the end of the day, incredibly meaningless when it comes to discussing actual human beings. Insistence on categorizing yourself and the people around you into boxes of "pure saint that can do no wrong" and "irredeemable demon who will burn in the pits of hell" is a fast track to viewing a complicated, colorful world into a few shades of black and white. That's how David views the world, and has viewed the world probably for years. And I'm going to be honest and say that I think before being confronted with the truth of David's actions, Arei was heading right down the same path that he had headed.

(x) Arei: Of course I wanted to change myself. Who wants to be a grab-bag of negative personality traits? There's not even anything positive you could say about me. Arei: Still, for the longest time, I thought it was stupid to even try. I'm rotten to the core, and I might as well be a different species from saints like Eden and you. Arei: A pig never hopes to grow up into a human, because it knows that such a metamorphosis is impossible.

And this is the line that really, really makes me think that. She calls David and Eden saints because (up until this moment) she viewed both of them as the ideal of what makes a good person, similar to how David views Xander. And on the contrast, claims herself to be rotten to the core, ontologically evil with no redemption in sight. She's even performing David's habit of self-dehumanization, likening herself to a pig in the same way David likens himself to a cat in the LGI video, which goes to show how this mindset of black-and-white is, above all else, a dehumanizing view on the human race that relegates people into cardboard boxes with the flaps taped shut. If she didn't find out the truth of David's actions, I am confident that she would've done down the same path that he did, becoming convinced that she will be a terrible person until the day she dies because she cannot reach this worthless standard of a good person that she has set up in her head. But we know that's not how it goes. Arei does realize that the man she once thought of as a saint might be, in his words, a lying manipulative scumbaggy piece of shit. And upon realizing that, the second half of the message unlocks itself. There is no such thing as irredeemability.

Change is a part of being human. Humans are not built to run in a hamster wheel for the rest of their days, reliving their mistakes over and over again wallowing in their self-hatred and guilt. Eventually, they have to get off the wheel and start taking the steps necessary to grow, change, develop and flourish to properly better themselves. (This applies to yourself just as much as it applies to the worst, most depraved individual you know by the way) The alternative is living in a four-by-four black box of self-loathing and relentless stagnancy, which is not productive for the person or the people they've hurt. It is only when you reject these black-and-white categories of "Good Person" and "Bad Person" and accept that no matter what you've done, you're capable of becoming better, that you can achieve true growth and change. The way this message was executed, especially through a character that dies before the halfway point of the story, is something that I marvel at as an aspiring storyteller. DRDT's beating heart will always be its character writing, and this scene is one of the primary examples of that. Thank you, DT-Dev, for making Arei Nageishi and the rest of your amazing cast of characters. :D

Extra Thoughts !!! - FURUYA FANDOM (me) THE TRACK PLAYED LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!! - I am very excited to find out more about Nico's attempted murder given all of the questions surrounding it. If the method of murder really was replicated, and Nico wasn't the culprit themself, you guys should take a wild guess who that implicates. (this is probably obvious by this point, but I really don't believe in the theories that suggest that someone other than Nico was responsible for Ace's attempted demise, be it Hu or Ace himself. I feel like it doesn't line up with the current narrative direction that Nico seems to be going in, the physical evidence of them stealing the turpentine, and...I'm gonna be honest, I just don't like it lmao. I'm sure DT-Dev would do it well, but just as a premise I do not favor it. Nico's attempted murder + subsequent regret from it felt like such a big moment in the chapter's narrative in relation to the themes of All That Glitters and the cast revealing sides to themself that weren't as prevalent before, as well as the themes of change and moving on from the past littered all throughout the chapter. I think if Nico's attempted murder was responsible by anyone but Nico, it would just dampen the impact of their overall story for me. That's just me though.) - WE FINALLY GOT ANOTHER NONSTOP DEBATE LETS GO BOYS!!! Nonstop debates I MISSED you - "Hey why does Whit know so much about hangi--" Look. This man is so unbelievably suspicious in every single way that for the sake of my sanity, I'm just gonna assume DT-Dev chose a random character to give the hanging explanation. It is the only way I will survive this chapter - But hey, at least we got this

- As always, I adore the new sprites we got this episode, especially Ace's new ones. It's probably the first sprite of his that actually appears emotionally vulnerable when he's not bleeding profusely from the neck. And of course, I loved David's shit-eating grin towards Teruko, I hope he never changes. - Speaking of Teruko, us getting Tutor Teruko was lovely. She is perfect, she is a little bit of everything all of the time.

(x) Whit: If you're so inclined to complain, Sir Light Pollution, why don't you try and think of some good evidence? Charles: Light pollution? Whit: You know… Cuz he had stars, and now he doesn't, and light pollution makes stars disappear… or… or… something….. Charles: I am truly impressed…by how bad that was.

- I love these dorks so much. I can tell DT-Dev has a lot of fun writing them.

- Teronika Consent animation! I guess after Acevi's Soap Opera, DT-Dev decided to feed the yuri crowd as well. Love it when we get to see those little sprite animations, too.

Predictions for CH2-14 - The episode is 40 minutes long, the longest episode we have had so far. (40 minutes of DRDT content... I'm excited just thinking about it!) Because of that, I think I will just start with my biggest prediction: I think we're getting the culprit reveal this chapter. I don't think that just because of the length either. When you really look at it, we have basically used every piece of evidence at least once with the exception of three: - The conditions of the gym (which I assume will be discussed next) - The scuffs on the ground - The ball of starchy clothes All three of those pieces of evidence I think can definitely be cleared up in the span of 40 minutes, especially since full focus is now on the murder case. I don't necessarily think the trial will end in this episode, but I think we have at least one more trial episode to go before the post-trial + execution + ending of the chapter. - And as the culprit reveal is approaching, I have formulated a tier list of who I think is least - most likely to be Arei's culprit. I will provide my reasoning for each.

No. 17/16 - Xander Matthews + Min Jeung I mean, what it says on the tin. They're dead, and thus couldn't had committed the murder. No. 15/14 - MonoTV + Arei Nageishi There are explicit rules against them being the culprit. Rule 8 and Rule 11 in particular. No. 13 - Teruko Tawaki She is the protagonist. Didn't stop Kaede, but I highly doubt that's where DT-Dev is going. No. 12 - David Chiem Other than the previous five who I've all disqualified from being the culprit, David is probably the character I suspect the least. He has an alibi for the time of the murder, getting breakfast with J and Veronika, and thematically...well, he's basically being set up as the antagonist. I don't think we'll be rid of him this early lmao. No. 11 - Charles Cuevas Charles has a fear of blood and dead bodies, and though I wouldn't say that completely disqualifies him from becoming a culprit in the future, in a case like this with such a complicated mechanism like this where he'd have to be in very close proximity with the body at all times? I highly doubt it. He also has an alibi for the fish (He was with Whit). No. 10 - J Rosales J both has an alibi for the fish (Arturo following her around), and an alibi for the morning (getting breakfast with David and Veronika), and both of those alibis can be confirmed. I don't think she did this. No. 9 - Veronika Grebenshchikova I'll be honest, I really don't see Veronika committing a murder at all. She clearly wants to see this through to the end, and killing someone would come with the risk of her being executed, which I don't think she would see as a satisfying conclusion to her story. That, combined with the fact that she has an alibi for the fish (bothering Teruko) and an alibi for the murder (getting breakfast with David and J) makes me think she didn't do this. No. 8 - Nico Hakobyan You might think it's weird to place Nico this low on the overall tier-list despite them not having an alibi for the fishes, and their morning alibi being...somewhat flimsy but I'll get to that with Hu, but here's my logic. Nico was driven to attempt murder from very specific circumstances. That being, Ace's relentless bullying and abuse towards them. Nico has said before that they'd understand murder if the perpetrator didn't like the victim, and while I don't think they exactly liked Arei, I do not think they harbor the same animosity towards her as they did towards Ace. I truly believe that Nico would only ever resort to murder if they truly despised the person in question and saw no other solution. So that is why I feel comfortable placing Nico at eighth. No. 7 - Hu Jing Hu is also another character that I think some will be surprised to see so low, but I don't think this was her doing. She has an alibi for the fish (cleaning up with Eden), and though again her alibi in the morning is very flimsy (having tea with Nico in the morning,) I do believe she is telling the truth because if she was lying about her alibi, I think the brutally blunt Nico would call her out for it. I'm sorry, I just simply cannot imagine Nico letting that shit slide regardless of how many theories I read. Not to mention I can't really think of a motive for why she would kill Arei specifically when, if she really did want to kill someone, Ace is right there. No. 6 - Whit Young Whit is supremely fucking suspicious and a lot of his behavior in the trial is literal shenanigans, even more so given the fact that he doesn't have an alibi for the actual murder. But he does have an alibi for the fish (again, he was with Charles) which is the main sticking point of Whit!Culprit. His other sticking point is his lack of motive, both in terms of the secrets and Arei specifically. I don't know like- just look at this man, do you think he did this? /joke

No. 5 - Levi Fontana The number one suspect in the fandom for a while, and he's only at number five. He ultimately lacks an alibi for the morning, and his alibi for the fish was that he was doing his laundry... With no one else around. Shady as fuck. But I think given his principles discussed in this episode ("it is a good thing to make sure someone else doesn't die"), and the genuine desire to be helpful he has expressed throughout this trial, I think him being the culprit is unlikely. That's why I was adamant on him being an accomplice for a while because I still thought he had some role in the case, but oh well. No. 4 - Rose Lacroix I'll be honest, Rose is only this high because her alibi situation is worse than Whit's and Levi's combined. Both of her alibis are that she was sleeping in her room, which cannot be proven and can be very easily lied about. But other than that, I don't think she is the culprit. I think this case requires too many physical maneuvers for someone as lethargic as Rose to pull off successfully, and if she were the culprit I don't think she'd bring attention to the missing grippy tape at all. No. 3 - Arturo Giles Arturo does have an alibi for the fish (following J), but does not have an alibi for the morning. Unlike basically every other character here, something else that puts Arturo above them is that he was capable of overhearing Eden and Arei's conversation and forging the note. But there is also a discrepancy present that is also present with every character here, and that is the fact that Arturo did not witness Nico's attempted murder or the condition of Ace's body and the gym, so there was no way he could've replicated the murder method used for Ace on Arei. So though logistically he is a more likely possibility, I don't think it was him. No. 2 - Ace Markey Ace, to me anyway, is the second most likely candidate to being Arei's killer. He does not have an alibi for the fish and could've very easily grabbed them after David and Arei left the Relaxation Room, and he doesn't have an alibi for the morning either. He has a very clear motivation for taking a chance at killing someone, of "someone literally sliced my neck open not two days ago and I know I am not safe here I need to get the fuck out." If you choose to factor in strength, Ace is one of the strongest members of the cast and would be more than capable of the physical maneuvers made to kill Arei. Though I personally don't believe in this theory, if you think Ace attempted suicide instead of Nico trying to kill him, he has the murder method down lock too because he tried to commit it onto himself. He has been shown to be nosy, so it is not improbable that he listened in on Arei and Eden's conversation. And lastly, he is one of the only two suspects who was capable of stealing the grippy tape that was used in the murder. All of the evidence is practically stacked against him... But there are a couple of problems. One, if you believe that Nico did try to kill Ace, than the point about Ace knowing the exact method of death goes out the window. He was knocked out by the turpentine, and woke up in extreme pain in a blinding fury of rage and bloodlust, I don't think his surroundings would be the first thing on his mind. But a much bigger issue we have is the question of... Why would Ace take the tape? Following this theory, his murder plan wouldn't had started until the day after Nico's attempt on his life, it would make no sense for him to take the tape then. These two sticking points are why, though a likely candidate, I do not think Ace is the culprit. That award of main suspect goes to...

No. 1 - Eden Tobisa Yeah, if you've spent any time on this account you probably know I'm an Eden!Culprit truther. There are many well-written posts about this theory that I'm sure you've seen so I'll try to keep this short, but though the theory does have a few flaws to it, the big one being Eden's alibi for the fish that she was cleaning up with Hu, I think Eden being the culprit makes the most sense from an evidence, thematic, and motive standpoint. I know some people have dropped the theory upon the fork reveal, but DRDT is not unbeknownst to killing off characters with certain mysteries left unanswered. That is basically all for my predictions related to the culprit, but I still have some predictions for the overall episode. - Nico's gonna get placed in the hot-seat, obviously, which will definitely cause a reaction out of both Hu and Ace. And I honestly feel like the two of them are going to keep interrupting Nico until they eventually snap. And I hope that happens honestly because unless you count the "I'll kill you" line, we have yet to see or hear Nico when they're actually angry angry. Nico obviously doesn't like conflict, but they might have to get over that if they actually want to defend themself knowing the other two. - I'm still holding out hope we'll get a Random Guess segment lmao - And lastly: I need Whit to break the forth wall at least once I didn't put that on the bingo card for fucking NOTHING

Conclusion I'm gonna be completely honest, I do not have the energy to write anymore and I just want this out lmao. But overall, this was one of my favorite episodes in the whole series. I loved the Levi and Ace stuff, I like that we now have all the secrets, and like I said, the scene with Arei is probably one of my favorite scenes in the show. CH2-14 is going to be a wild ride I can already tell, and if we do find out who the killer is, you will see me screaming. Regardless of if it's Eden lmao.

UPDATED SWEAR STATISTICS CH2-13

UPDATED BINGO CARD

#finally....finally its done...haha...ITS FINALLY DONE!!! /ref #desperately hoping at least one of you gets where that's from #this took way longer than it needed to because I have been in a creativity rut this last week and it has been fucking my ass #that and there was so much to discuss with this episode compared to the last one #but its done. hopefully ch2-14 post wont take me too long #hopefully #danganronpa despair time #drdt

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lieutenantfloyd · 15 hours

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Pizza Hut and Silent Observation (Also Known as Stalking) - Deadpool x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Through a series of strange but undeniably on-brand events, Wade Wilson has found his opposite—and falls in love with them along the way. But as they both reckon with their feelings, reader pulls away, though this only hurts them both.

Warnings: fluff, opposites attract, attempts at humor, violence, Wade had ADHD, mercenary! Reader, language, mutual pining and a bit of mutual stalking, gentle tapping of the fourth wall, and Wade being Wade.

Authors Note: As much as I love all the Poolverine x Reader stuff, I’m craving some solo Wade x Reader! So consider this to be me being the change I wanna see in the world lol

Read on AO3

A series of strange but undeniably on-brand events had led to Wade Wilson finding his polar opposite—The soft, quiet, and sweet to his rough, loud, and explicit.

For reasons unknown even to himself, Deadpool swears to keep his distance. Yet the more he tries to avoid you, the more you seem to cross paths. Keeping out of each other's way when you wind up trailing the same target quickly morphs into shared glances across bars and grocery store aisles. Wade is all too aware of the universe's fucked up sense of humor, and when he quite literally runs into you for a third day in a row, he swears that the sweet, melodic laughter that graces his is coming from the universe itself.

Despite the stolen kills and strange lack of conversation, Wade quickly grows fascinated by you. As you approach your sixth month of stilted interactions, the last remaining bits of optimism he has leave him wondering if this could potentially be the slowest slow burn of all time, only for those dreams to be crushed by the weight of everything that lies beneath his fancy spandex suit.

Nonetheless, his feelings about you—and how you operate in the field—grow into something far more than a simple curiosity. It becomes a wide-eyed admiration with an increasingly lewd undercurrent. You're everything he’s not. Clean and efficient with a one-track mind that never strays from the mission at hand.

Or at least that's what he tells himself.

It took exactly three meetings with the spandex clad mercenary to realize he might be the single most obnoxious person on the planet, and another five before you were willing to admit that he was also the single hottest.

You had always been someone who built their walls high and kept their defenses higher. It's why you found it so strange that the first crack in your emotional fortress was brought on by a mouthy mercenary taking a bullet for you without a second thought and making a joke about pegging with what should have been his dying breath.

His strange effect on you was something you used to justify your actions over the past several months. Frequenting his favorite bars and choosing to pursue the targets you knew he'd go after was simply just reconnaissance. You needed to know the why and how of what he made you feel, and getting close to him—while swearing it was for professional reasons only—felt like the best course of action. Sure, your heart raced every time you spotted him across the room, but that was only because you were satisfied by getting the timing of your meeting right. Maybe you let your eyes wander a little when he sunk his baby knife into the neck of your target, but you kept your thoughts of what else he kept hidden in that suit of his to yourself like any other well respecting person.

You weren't a stalker.

This wasn't stalking.

A grey area? Maybe. But definitely not stalking.

Or at least that's what you told yourself.

It was during your eighth month of silent observation that Wade realized that wherever he went, you were his sweet little shadow that kept him distracted. You had spoken to him barely a handful of times, yet you were always there to listen. You didn't care that he couldn't sit still or that he quite literally never shut up. No, you—his silent but darling angel—laughed at his jokes and brought him fidget toys. Alternatively, he never pressured you to speak up or forced you (too far) outside of your comfort zone.

The mutual respect between you grew larger and more profound until you were practically attached at the hip, becoming an unofficial duo both in the field and not. He'd always feel like he didn't deserve you, but at this rate, you were practically all he had left.

Logic—along with everyone in your lives—said that you should hate each other's guts. Yet from the first moment you met, You both just made complete sense to each other. You didn't ask to see what he hid underneath his mask and he didn't ask why you bought your groceries at the shop by His and Blind Al's apartment even though it was 45 minutes away from your own place. Things were simple. Good, even. But they still weren't enough for either of you.

He thinks about you constantly.

Thinks about you so much that he finds himself googling 'Can a person be a hyperfixation?' and 'signs you've found your soulmate' at 3am. Yet as much as his feelings for you have grown, whatever you had felt in return seemed to have disappeared along with your presence in his life.

Now what little focus he had was slipping. All because you had pulled away.

He'd taken more than a few knives to the skull over his last several missions, but the target he'd been tracking all year had finally made a home of an unmarked grave. He should feel excited—or at least somewhat satisfied—but he just felt numb. It'd been weeks since he'd last heard from you, but that didn't stop him from feeling phantom buzzes from his phone or searching crowds for your lovely, angelic face.

He'd even stopped by your place a few times. He forced himself to knock before picking the locks and entering your home. His genuine feelings of concern and abandonment were replaced by a gnawing pit in his stomach when he realized that your cozy apartment had become sterilized and vacant. He stayed there, frozen in place, for far longer than he would ever care to admit.

Deep down he'd always known this would happen. He was a depraved fuck up at best, and nothing good ever stuck around for him. But he thought—no, he knew—you were different. Only then did Wade admit that he was obsessed, if not teetering on the edge of stalkerish. He knew this was a glaring sign that he should back off, but Deadpool is anything, he is a man of maximum effort.

So he started waiting. Hoping that maybe you'll miss his unending self-deprecation and come back for him.

You promised to keep your distance. Wade was a good, albeit complicated, man who deserved something better. Someone who completed him. Who matched his energy and didn't forge a friendship based on an act of failed reconnaissance.

You'd been clean and clear of anything regarding him for over a month and were finally feeling good enough to head back to your old apartment and turn in your keys.

If you hadn't stopped in the hallway to reread the text from your landlord stating to leave the keys on the kitchen counter, you would have never noticed the shiny metallic scratches around the lock. Your line of work ensured that you knew instantly that it'd been picked, but you still moved in closer for a better look.

Whoever had broken in was either too inexperienced to know how to cover their tracks or brazen enough not to care. Given that the apartment was tucked away on the sixth floor with a freshly posted 'for rent' sign on the door, you couldn't see why this would be a random attack. You'd kept to yourself while living here, and you didn't have any valuables your more shady friends could be searching for. These were the facts you told yourself as you slipped the keys back into your pocket and ignored how only the latter, more reckless possibility had your heart racing.

Your typical evening plans were pushed aside in favor of pulling the security camera footage and settling in for an unconventional movie night.

Most of the tape was mind-numbingly boring, but your eyes were glued to the screen nonetheless. Searching for any piece of evidence to confirm your suspicions. Just as tiredness began to seep its way into your shoulders, you spot him. Even if he wasn't wearing the suit, you'd recognize him just by the way he dances into frame and gives a sarcastic wave at the camera. Seeing Wade again—even just in video format—fills you with so much affection that how you managed to leave him alone this long feels like a damn miracle.

The day of your return was unnotable in every way.

The sky is blue, the weather is mild, and you'd been tailing your target since before sunrise.

The job you were currently working requires fast, efficient work with no loose ends left behind. It was perfect for you, but the payout was enough to catch the eye of every mercenary in the local area and beyond. This was something you were banking on—the perfect way to say "I'm sorry" and "let's start over" to Wade without showing up cryptically on his doorstep.

The target pulls into a parking garage, and you know instantly that this is the other opportunity you've been hoping for. You follow them inside and park a few spaces away. You wait for them to walk in view of your rear view mirror before exiting the car. Their pace is relaxed and unalert as you fall in step with them—exactly how you prefer it—which giving you the green light to move in.

Your footfalls are silent as you close the small distance between you, weapon in hand. Hyperfocused and only a step behind them, you nearly run square into their back when they suddenly freeze and gasp.

"I'm on a tight schedule and you know what you did, so let's just cut to the chase, K?"

A second later, a blade lodges through their chest. As it retreats, their body falls limply to the ground, leaving your position completely exposed. Wade's eyes land on you instantly, and the way the whites of his mask widen has something in your chest growing tight.

"Hey," you stutter, thrown off guard by his sudden appearance. Though with everything you know about him, a part of you honestly should have prepared better for this.

"For what it's worth, I've been super busy since you decided to up and abandon me. So busy that I've only had time to cry twice in the last twelve hours," he says, slipping his katana back into place with precision.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're gonna have to do better than that to get back into my good graces, sugar plum."

His humor remains as unwavering as always, but the edge to his usually carefree voice betrays a glimpse of his inner workings. If it hadn't been obvious before, you know now, without any doubt, that your attempt to protect his feelings had only done the opposite.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Wade."

"Well, you failed spectacularly!" He deadpans.

You breathe in sharply and take a cautious step closer to him as his hands rise to rest on his hips. "I like you, you know. Which for me is…a lot."

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he speaks. As if he's holding back his true feelings for once.

"It took me far too long to admit it to myself, but I like you too, Wade." He's shockingly quiet as you speak, and the silence drags on for several seconds afterward.

"Do you maybe… like like me?" He asks in a soft voice that has you gearing up for his inevitable teasing. You sigh, and he takes up a pose that says he's the picture of innocence. Yeah right.

"Against my better judgment, yes."

His hands fly to his face, and he gasps so loud you wonder if your sliced-and-diced target had suddenly come back to life.

"You're telling me—mouthy merc Wade Winston Wilson—that I created such a stirring in that-" his eyes flash downwards before rising back to yours "great chest of yours that the only way you knew how to deal with it was to ghost me like fucking Casper?!"

Your half baked plan honestly sounds stupid when you hear it out loud, but he's undoubtedly right.

You nod in a mix of amusement and defeat, which sends his fists flying into the air.

"YES!" He screams "I'm finally getting my third-act-confession-in-a-hallmark-channel-romance-movie moment! Take that you ableist studio execs!"

You roll your eyes, refusing to believe you're letting his weird quips charm you once again.

"I'm sorry Wade, truly," you say.

Guilt sets in then. While you'll probably always think he deserves better—or at least something different—than what you can give him, you've realized that breaking his heart by leaving hurt you both more than whatever may or may not happen if you let your feelings be known.

You awkwardly poke the stiffening body of your target with the toe of your boot before you take a page out of Wade's book and finally bite the bullet.

"You stole my kill, and that means you owe me dinner," You say with a surprisingly playful air.

Wade shrugs, not missing a beat as he counters you.

"I mean, 'stole' doesn't really apply when it was full on open season for this hit, and you just happened to be too slow."

"Wade, do you want to take me out or not?" You bite back.

"Hold your horses there Dr. House, yes I do!"

"Good." You nod.

"Good?" He questions with mock offense. "That's all you have to say when a handsome man such as I is about to take you out for a candle lit date at the third finest Pizza Hut in the city? I even offered to pay with the dirty money from my most recent kill!" He exclaims, eying the increasingly pale body between of you.

"I should stayed away," you mutter half jokingly under your breath as you turn to leave, knowing that he'd follow.

"What was that, pookie?" He asks, using his gloved hand to cup his ear dramatically as he crosses the distance between you with flourish.

You roll your eyes as he falls in step with you, though it doesn't go unnoticed by the usually unobservant mercenary.

"I saw that, sugarplum," he croons. You snort out an exasperated laugh and nearly repeat your previous eye roll just to stir the pot a little more.

"I know you're probably not as well versed in this whole enemies to lovers, will-they-won't-they dating thing, but I've read enough fanfiction to know that this whole dark and brooding thing you've got going on is supposed to be reserved for others, not you're darling love interest."

"I'm glad that you admit that I'm the main character," You laugh. Wade's eyes widen as he realizes the mistake he's made. Yet instead of pressing the issue, he slips his phone out of his spandex suit—where it's kept is something you don't care to think about—and calls in the kill.

You continue on walking, heading nowhere in particular. You’re just happy to have Wade by your side once again. The call comes to an end quickly, the phone disappears once more, and he loops one of his strong arms around your shoulders.

"So, pookie, about that dinner date…"

You raise your eyebrows instantly, recognizing that his tone of voice as the one he uses right before dropping bombshells.

"The money is on a thirty six hour hold—a surprisingly formal rule given our shady choice of gig—so would you mind paying? I'd tell you I'd pay you back but we both know I won't." He smiles innocently.

You scoff, only for a soft smile to bloom on your own face.

"You better sweep me off my feet," you tease, wrapping your own arm around him as you both make your way through the busy city streets. Cars race by and neon lights flicker overhead, reflecting in the puddles left by the afternoon rain.

He shoots you a sideways grin from beneath his mask, "Sweep you off your feet? That sounds like soooo much work. I'll just stick to charming you with my usual irresistible appeal instead."

You snort sarcastically. "irresistible appeal? You mean being an insufferable pain who always leaves me behind to clean up your messes?"

You turn the corner, arriving at the restaurant Wade had promised. You'd been here together before, though usually after a job gone wrong, and it had become your go-to hideout whenever your paths crossed.

Sliding into your usual booth, you lean back against the cracking vinyl and cross your arms, almost amused by the situation.

"You stuck me with the bill, so you better order something cheap," you joke as he eyes the menu.

Wade leans forward, his elbows resting on the table beside his now discarded red and black mask.

"Best I can do is treat you to dessert if you behave," He smirks, very much not talking about baked goods or confectionery.

You narrow your eyes at him, though he sees the playful spark swimming beneath them.

"Behave? That's rich coming from you. I'll be lucky if you don't have a knife buried in your head by the time the food comes out." He grins, a flash of mischief dancing across his eyes.

"What can I say? I like to make life exciting. Besides, we can't all be dark and brooding on the sidelines, now can we?"

You roll your eyes before looking back at the menu, an action that causes his smile to grow bigger.

The familiar heavy but playful energy between you has returned as if the past weeks had never happened. Things are comfortable, if not easy. It's the kind of rhythm you and Wade always fall into, no matter how long you spent apart.

From across the booth you see Wade's head fall to the side, his eyes examining you closely.

"What?" You ask, your eyes staying on the menu but not really looking at it.

"You seem…excited. Well, as excited as you can get, really." He says in a surprisingly soft tone.

"Me? Excited? Never."

"Perhaps then you just missed this sexy face? You wouldn't be the first…" he smirks as he looks at you with annoyingly innocent eyes.

"Or perhaps I'm waiting on the other shoe to drop. It seems like every time we're together, one of us is getting shot at or double-crossed. I wouldn't call that particularly exciting." You counter, though you know he's got you pinned.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Come on, Wednesday Adams, admit it—You. Missed. Me."

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like you weren't just two messed up mercenaries thrown into the same mess over and over again. Like there was something more to be had than all your teasing and banter. And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You had missed him.

"I missed this place, not you," you deflect, though your smile betrays you.

"You missed this shithole?" he replies, eyes twinkling. "I knew your standards were low—I mean you are on a date with me after all—but holy fuck."

You shake your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles up. "Hey! This isn't a date!"

He leaned in, his voice dropping lower as it fills with that infuriating charm he's known for. "Oh, don't you worry pookie. This is just the first step in my plan to date the hell outta you."

For a moment you sit there, the noise of the restaurant fading as your eyes lock with his wild ones. A truth hangs between you—no matter how many times you tried to downplay it, there was an undeniable electricity that always sparked between you. Something crazy and unpredictable, not unlike your daily lives.

You shake your head. "If it's a date, then you're paying," you say, finally breaking the tension with a happy smirk.

"Fine," he says with a huff, drawing out the last syllable as he leans back in his seat. "But next time, you're buying the drinks."

"Next time?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

"Oh, you know there's always going to be a next time," His eyes gleam as you let out a soft laugh, glancing at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"You're maddening, you know that?" You say, though there's no bite behind your words.

He gasps dramatically once more. "Is this the part of the movie where you say I drive you crazy before we go back to my place and have a heated makeout session?!"

For a moment you just watch him, eyebrows furrowed but a lazy smile hanging on your lips. The noise of the restaurant and the city beyond it fades into the background. It was almost funny how you and Wade always ended up back here, side by side, cracking jokes and deflecting feelings you both refused to admit you had.

Yet as his hand drops onto the table it brushes softly against yours, and you can't imagine a world in which you pull away. He's incessant, annoying, exasperating, along with a million other words, but he's here with you despite everything. A gesture that proves that maybe a bit of humor is exactly what you are missing from your life.

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #deadpool x y/n #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #x men

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stormyoceans · 10 days

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something something neil and xiao hai comparing each other to elements that symbolize life

something something the two of them entering each other’s lives in the moment they needed it the most and helping each other move forward

something something xiao hai thinking he’s been following neil one step behind his whole life and neil thinking he’s been relying on xiao hai to keep going and how they’re actually standing side by side moving towards the future together

everyone interpreted neil's words as him realizing his feelings for xiao hai, but i feel like we're being too influenced by the preview for next episode: both moments aren't about romantic feelings, but about the way neil and xiao hai have shaped and changed each other

#TODAY ON: ANOTHER MESSY POST ABOUT FNOL #TOO MANY THINGS TO SAY NOT ENOUGH THOUGHTS IN MY BRAIN #but honestly i do feel the preview is throwing everyone off #like not about neil's feelings because that man has been gone since day 1 and im gonna die on this hill #but the shower scene is less about him realizing his romantic feelings and more about him realizing xiao hai's place in his life #and being willing to take action because of him #god idk i just love this show so much and maybe im gonna be disappointed once again but rn it's just so good #and it pains me to see the few people watching it saying that this last episode is too rushed or didn't make sense #OKAY SHUTTING UP NOW #first note of love #neilsea #m: txt

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shippy-from-apocalypse · 17 days

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Ok im Very sleepy rn it's 2 am bare with me

What do we think Jon would think of How The fandom sees him? And I don't mean this in a pedantic "oh fandom bad because dumbed down and Insert Petty Headcanon Disagreement"

I mean this entirely in a "How would Jon, The man who believes himself to be an Irredeemable monster who is to blame for everything that ever went wrong, react to Just so so many people listening to his shortcommings and ultimately seeing his side"

Like yeah everyone agrees he's kind of an asshole sometimes but he is so beloved by The fans?

I'm sure some people did but I've never seen anyone doubting his humanity or blaming him for the horrors™ he Just clearly understood as his fault? Like yeah Martin tried telling him it wasn't but what I'm getting at is

I love to think about what Jon would do If he saw just the ocean of people who listened to (what he considers to be)

the most unsympathetic person in the world becoming a monster and making choices that brought the literal apocalypse upon humanity

and pretty much everyone saying "he did the best anyone could reasonably expect and he is not a bad person for being caught in the crossfire of an impossible situation with no good solutions"

remember that time in mag 187 a lady grabbed jon in fear and he shouted and presumably pushed her away? and everyone and their mother defended jon's humanity because that was a textbook trauma response i think he would break down crying if he saw that

#this was brought to you by my sleep deprived brain #im just im like just #everyone is always mad at him for not taking enought initiative or sulking or making decisions for others #and i love him so much #he is probably the character that makes me the most un-normal he is Masterfully written #And he hates himself so much and so many people in podcast feed his insecurities back to him #It makes sense they're all hurt and he doesn't always make the best decisions.#there's nothing he can do to make it right enought by other people #and everyone thinks he is doing a bad job at being an unwilling participant of this fucked up power system #again it makes SENSE they didn't ask for that either and jon is the mascot of the eye #he is both a scapegoat and a sacrificial lamb #if jonah that crusty old man ever did anything truky smart it was making jon eldritch middle management #like yeah everyone hates him more but most of the time he is untouchable so jon tajes all the heat #wich helps isolating him more and making it easier to manipulate him #everyone praised or at least had some resigned respect for gertrude and her actions. but that's because she is almost imaginary to them #the characters obsviously don't enjoy being in the middle of this either and jon is the only one with some form of real power there #(that's more or less on their side at least)#ough #yeaouh #nnahoughh even #we we criticize jon from time to time #but i really love that most people are willing to fight tooth and nail to defend him #he is just such a human character and despiste everything that happens he is so very clearly just a person who is trying #the character ever #all I'm saying is i would like to know how jon would react to not one not two #but thousands of people who are able to see him and understand he shouldn't to be a perfect victim #the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims

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bonnieisaway · 11 months

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seven's the best protag ever because i could make a million "get you a man who" jokes about him. get you a man who looks at him the way thirteen does. get you a man who has undefeated whimsy and love for the world like seven. get you a man who holds his friends above everything else. get you a man who'd rather go broke and hungry rather than tear apart the bonds between people. get you a man who'd get himself killed for someone who barely knows him. get you a man who'd get himself killed for an island which he's barely familiar with. get you a man who'd dress up as you and settle the arguement between you and your girlfriend including a really long serenade. get you a man who could both save the girl in white like that and also let thirteen save him like that. get you a man who's driven purpose in life is loving others

#i think i shouldnt limit it to just “best protag” but im too lazy to think of better phrasing #i know very little medias who would be willing to write a man who's that loving and empathetic and caring and also have him have killed #literal thosuands and those two points of his characters dont contradict his very personality because his actions have genuine sensible mot #a character who is the victim of his own narrative and continues to fight it over and over and over even if he's tired #because being tired does not mean he gets to stop fighting for what he loves #the s4 op lyrics literally say something along the lines of “who's tired of fighting evil?” i cant check the netflix captions of it rn #god i just love seven as a character i love how he's written #i cannot interract with the tiktok side of the fandom because #i feel like i'm pretentous or a gatekeeper when i say this #but some people just wanna see funny badass who should be feared and will not comprehend how empathetic and adoring he is #and that's ok. that's an ok character to want and love #and i will not be the person to burst the bubble but also the bubble chokes me alive LOOK AT HIM /j #explaining the intricacies of his character takes so long and its so fun but also some mfs jsut dont wanna hear it i need mfs who need it #scissor seven #wu liuqi #seven

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happyk44 · 30 days

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It's kinda funny because w/ my Zeus kid OC (who I've been thinking about renaming as Araceli, 'cause it means altar of the sky, apparently, which I like 'cause sky-themed-ish but also like. A little bit I wanted something that meant cloud the way Coral's name means... Coral) the implication is that she takes after her father to an almost mirroring degree because I developed her and my other PJO OCs (who also all got retconned into an OG work) at the same time I was playing around with my ideas on the Big Six, and the gist at the time was supposed to show how the Big Six could've turned out if they weren't so weird.

So the dynamics of the friendship was supposed to be very similar to the dynamics of Big Six's relationship to each other (e.g. Mary having a major crush on Hera's "representative" but also being attracted to literally every other person that walked by, Nico being the soberminded big brother figure, etc). It's also one of the reasons Mary would get angry whenever someone would compare to her dad, because similarly I think Zeus would get angry if someone compared him to his dad.

And then eventually as I got older and the daydream moved around with whatever obsession I had at the time, the characters and general storyline began to change away from that in some ways but core features sort of stayed and so I ended up with a version of Zeus that ignores his daughter's pleas for help because he loves her but her pain hurts him because he can't do anything about it and it's his fault she's suffering.

She got this intensity from him, it's ingrained into the way it's ingrained in him. But he was able to rebuild the world according to his own needs and wants and beliefs. And she can't really do that. So he doesn't have any advice he can give her when she's on her knees begging for help with all the noise and pain in her head. He doesn't know what to do! It's like he can just go and rip it out of her.

But she's suffering because she's different and she's weird and she knows it and she knows it's his fault which is why she's asking but he just doesn't know and he can't handle watching her suffering and listening to her cry when there is no helpful answer to give her because "I don't know" isn't going to fix it.

He's supposed to fix things, he's supposed to have the answers. He's king of the world, by damn! He's a problem solver. He supposed to have a solution, and a million backup solutions. But he doesn't! There's nothing he can do to make the noise stop because truth be told, the noise never really stopped for him! It just got easier and quieter. So he turns away from her because he loves her and he's failing her and he can't handle that.

But also in the same breath, I think he recognizes similar aspects of himself in Jason, who isn't even asking for help, and fucking despises him for it, lol.

✨ Girl Dad ✨

#could be a jupiter vs zeus thing too #zeus is more in touch with his emotions so he's able to love his kids and empathize with their pain #but jupiter eschews emotion to focus fully on logic and rationale and winds up being disgusted by anything that shows he's flawed #like i think zeus definitely hates any implication that he's flawed #but in this case it's more like while his inability to stop his daughter's suffering makes him feel flawed #his love for his daughter takes precedence so he doesn't hate her for it. he just hates himself for not being able to fix it.#but jupiter doesn't really have that affection for jason because maybe he just lacks affection im general #so jason showcasing any behaviour that may indicate an inherent flaw in jupiter is seen as despicable #and so jason and any internal/external pain he may experience because of this flaw isn't viewed favourably #it could also be that jason is more willing to call him on his shit where mary/araceli was just like bitch i hate you so much please kill m #like she definitely doesn't agree with all her dad's actions but she kind of gets where he's coming from with certain things #where i don't think jason is able to view that in other people either #like all three of them view things in a very black and white autistic sort of way #but jason lacks the cognitive empathy to understand why a person may feel or behave a certain way #i love when i go insane in the tags #thats fun #anyway #happy talks about his stories #happy talks pjo #zeus (pjo)#jason grace #i will come up with a tag for my zeus girl at some point #also for araceli the original character has always been seen as hispanic/latino which is why i wanted a name that made that obvious #so if anyone has any hispanic/latino sky-themed names they'd like to share lemme know because the baby name websites were very short

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makoodles · 10 months

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ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head.

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you.

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling.

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying.

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving.

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented.

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac��s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off.

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.

Well. Okay, then.

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk.

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She��s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things.

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice.

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You��re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

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sirgawainofgalifrey · 2 months

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Not to knock on Wrightworth or other Phoenix ships but people like to make most of Phoenix's actions have a romantic undertone and really miss out on the fact that he'll just about die for anyone he considers a friend.

Like he took on a clearcut murder case with zero experience (what's a cross-examination lol) because he was friends with Larry in school.

He STRAIGHT UP ATE GLASS AND METAL for the girl he was dating and was willing to ignore that she'd murdered someone.

He changed his whole ass career to get in contact with Edgeworth again just to make sure he was okay emotionally (and for other reasons that people like to ignore just for making it all about Edgeworth), even though they literally were like in 4th grade together for like half a year.

The first case he defended Maya was almost entirely because of Mia, because he didn't know Maya yet.

Literally EVERY CASE that he defends Maya in he's going above and beyond all reason and logic to prove that she's not guilty.

Him literally going against all reason and evidence and Edgeworth's own admission in the Edgeworth case to prove he's not guilty.

HIM LITERALLY ONLY TAKING ON THE SKYE CASE BECAUSE EMA AND LANA REMINDED HIM OF MAYA AND MIA.

Him literally in the Engarde case willing to compromise all his principles to get a murderer off the hook to save her (they give you the option of going with pleading that Engarde is innocent, even though it doesn't effect the outcome).

Him literally running across a burning bridge at night over a huge cliff to make sure she's alright.

All I'm saying is I think the writers more intended to characterize Phoenix as someone who is willing to do almost anything for people he cares about (even if he acts like a grumpy asshole most of the time), more than emphasizing any one romantic relationship.

(I also think that's why he took Edgeworth faking his death so hard, and was so pissed at him for it. Like he felt betrayed and helpless at Edgeworth commiting suicide, mad (at Edgeworth and himself) that Edgeworth thought he couldn't come to him for help, when he would do anything for him. And then he finds out he was deceived, and couldn't understand how anyone could do that to someone they care about, like it's not in his friendship vocabulary ((also the fact that Edgeworth had confided in Gumshoe and not him that he was still alive, meaning he trusts Gumshoe more than him as a friend.)) It all comes down to Phoenix being betrayed that he's not trusted and his devotion to his friends not returned.)

Anyway sorry this is so long I hope it makes sense.

(also I've only played the original trilogy)

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aliteralsemicolon · 4 months

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We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist.

Not entirely, at least.

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life.

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent.

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at.

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen.

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew.

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often.

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details.

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel.

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter.

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too.

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over.

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces.

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her.

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface.

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking.

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-”

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring.

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response.

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically.

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia.

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly.

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest.

“Okay what would you call it then?”

“I wouldn’t call it anything.”

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive.

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution.

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills.

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you.

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off.

There’s no way.

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way.

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him.

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly.

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry.

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self.

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve.

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of.

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut.

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours.

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company.

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.”

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can.

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you.

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself.

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.”

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat.

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again.

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick.

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs.

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him.

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid.

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later.

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water.

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again.

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle.

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent.

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend.

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction.

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known.

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else.

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing.

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him.

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you.

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible.

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace.

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you.

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do.

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-”

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought.

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you.

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation.

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night.

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-”

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build.

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either.

“You know…”

it’s almost not even a whisper,

“...if I wasn’t who I am…”

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible.

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship.

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back.

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done.

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him.

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now?

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out.

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away.

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes.

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again.

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you.

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back.

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back?

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier.

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel.

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in.

Shit.

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night.

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did.

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did.

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together.

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative.

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world.

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt.

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.”

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you.

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads.

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings.

“Are you hungry?”

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care.

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing.

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further.

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him.

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you.

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble.

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts.

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you.

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around.

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking.

“Where are you going?!”

“Anywhere you’re not.”

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway.

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before.

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!”

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car.

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms.

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never.

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly.

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant.

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling.

“Answering a question with a question.”

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence.

“Spencer, don’t–”

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you.

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration.

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief.

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh.

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life.

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself?

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating.

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response.

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life.

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels.

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him.

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away.

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around.

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist.

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else.

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar.

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee.

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends.

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time.

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand.

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?”

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.”

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!”

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it.

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology.

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life.

Spencer would always impact everything in your life.

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?”

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman.

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down.

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly.

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores.

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him.

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw.

“What more is there to say?”

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him.

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.”

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.”

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type.

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him.

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication.

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that. I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls.

Thank you for reading!

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bbygirl-aemond · 2 months

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okay now that i've slept on this episode (and watched the behind the scenes) i want to talk more about this idea of rhaenyra as a cult leader who has completely drunk her own kool-aid. it's an a+ development for her character and i truly hope the writers continue to lean into it further.

hotd has built up this idea of dragons being a conduit for the divine from the very beginning of season one, when viserys and rhaenyra talk about how the targaryen's perceived proximity to the gods comes via their control of dragons. earlier in season two we also heard the smallfolk describe the dragons as invulnerable gods during the parading of meleys's head. this is a deliberate narrative that the targaryens have cultivated (as jace pointed out) to provide themselves with a divine mandate to justify their rule.

this idea of the dragons as a divine mandate is beginning to intersect with the conqueror's dream for rhaenyra in a fascinating way. rhaenyra has always placed more importance on the conqueror's dream than, say, daemon or jace, but this episode goes much further, and is full of rhaenyra talking about being given signs and instructions from the gods. i think addam claiming seasmoke was a transformation for her- she was smiling and had this look of near elation once he claimed her as queen.

i think she genuinely believes that the gods broke the rules of dragon claiming in order to give her a loyal dragon rider right when she needed one. we then see this same elated smile again when she successfully brings vermithor to heel.

each of these little moments is something she takes as confirmation that she's being aided by the gods. this is why she is so convinced that the dragon seeds who claim vermithor and silverwing will be loyal to her- she has convinced herself that all of this is the gods signaling to her and that they will bring her loyal dragon riders the way they brought her addam. the dragon tamers point out what rhaenyra is not willing to acknowledge; these are not true signs from the gods, but things that rhaenyra herself is reading into and arranging for herself. she is seeing what she wants to see. and this will be proven true when hugh and ulf betray rhaenyra, likely due to rhaenyra's own actions in locking the dragonseeds in to die. they were not loyal believers sent from the gods to serve her; they were just men, and she's given them the fantasy equivalent of nuclear missiles.

a large part of this belief in divine validation is definitely due to rhaenyra's own deep seated insecurity due to viserys neglecting her in her childhood and her small council not taking her seriously enough, but i also think this is a coping mechanism on rhaenyra's part. she has no choice but to lean into this war as fully as she can now, to describe herself as helpless in the wake of what the gods have set before her, because she needs her losses to mean something. she needs visenya's death and luke's death to mean something. she needs the loss of her relationship with alicent to mean something.

but in doing this, she is already beginning to push others away from her. she has lost the support of the dragon tamers, and she has also pushed away jace; when he confronted her about a valid concern about how this would make his own ascension even more fraught, she just parroted more of that divine mandate nonsense back to him, which he is clearly not buying. i'll be curious to see how much deeper she falls into this cultish spiral and how much more it costs her.

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wilwheaton · 1 month

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Hey man, I could use a few talking points to help convince a friend that Musk is horrible. I'm reading 'Think Again' by Adam Grant (good read btws) and he says to help convince people to come to your viewpoint that it can be good to have 2 or 3 strong points instead of 10 mixed points. The counter argument I get from people about Musk being good is that he did spacex and tesla, and without him we'd be decades behind. Maybe, but I don't have good ammo. Please help as I get too angry tobe critical

Well, listen, the fascism, the transphobia, the chaos, and the unwavering support for autocrats all over the planet really ought to be enough to outweigh anything else, if you ask me. It sounds like you know some people who got excited about the companies he threw money at, and they are having a tough time updating their feelings due to current events. Or maybe they share his values and don't want to admit that.

But I'll try to offer some simple facts.

He did not do engineering with Tesla or SpaceX or even PayPal. He is a fraud. He walked into these existing businesses, where people had done actual work and engineering, threw some of his Apartheid money at them, and took credit for their work. He claims, over and over again, to be a founder of these companies, and that's just straight up a lie that is easily disproved.

He literally did nothing except throw money at people and take credit for their work. Look at every Tesla up to the (chokes back laughter) Cybertruck. Those Teslas look like cars, because they were designed by engineers. Look at the Cybertruck. When you stop laughing at what a joke it is, know this: that's what happens when Elon Musk is in charge. It's like a ten year-old with some crayons drew it on a menu at Denny's.

All of the things his weird fans claim he made possible, are things that would have happened, and were in the process of happening, without him. He literally did nothing to advance the technologies or engineering. In fact, SpaceX whistleblowers have told reporters how they had to keep Musk occupied with bullshit, so they could do the real work without him fucking it up all the time with his incompetence.

But even if he were telling the truth, even if the myth were fact, it would not outweigh the damage, the pain, the chaos, and the suffering he has inflicted on millions and millions of people, all over the world with his lies, his spread of misinformation, and his incitement of angry incels.

Also, don't forget, when Ukraine was trying to defend itself, he turned off Starlink access when they could have decisively ended Russia's aggression. A lot of people have suffered and died as a direct consequence of that action, which he took to support his buddy and fellow autocrat, Vladimir Putin.

That's more information than I think your friends will be willing to hear. Studies indicate that people who are heavily invested in the myth of a person will fight hard to hold onto the myth, and reject truth and facts, because it's so jarring to them. Musk has built a cult of personality, and maybe your friends are stuck to it.

I'd gently encourage your friends to consider one key fact: he has lied about his entire origin story, he has lied about his contributions to Tesla and SpaceX. He lies about everything, except when he posts on Twitter like a 12 year-old edgelord, because that's who he is, emotionally.

Finally, and this is for you, specifically: if your friends insist on supporting a fascist, a racist, a misogynist, or a bigot, because they think rockets are cool, maybe it's time to look for new friends.

I hope this helps.

And fuck Elon Musk.

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wonusite · 10 months

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Endless Adoration

❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞

PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

GENRE: best friends brother au, friends with benefits au, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

WARNINGS: bestie’s brother!mingyu, virgin!reader, secret pining, suppressed feelings, discourse of how to pronounce caramel, mingyu is the textbook definition of down bad, loss of virginity, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mirror sex, riding, squirting, multiple creampies, cum eating

A/N: this fic is my contribution to the fall season and part of the fall-ing for you collab! hope you all enjoy! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

It’s no secret that Mingyu is an affectionate man.

Acts of service and giving out his affection is his love language, and everyone knows it. Which is why no one really questions his behavior toward you. If he laughs a little too hard at something you said or always comes to your defense even when you’re wrong, it’s not really suspicious because he’s just a kind and gentle guy.

His little sister, however, does not see it that way.

Minseo knows her brother, and while he may be a walking green flag and a gentleman among beasts, he’s not that nice. Vernon argues that it’s only because you two are best friends that Mingyu treats you just a bit better than anyone else. It’s a viable argument, yet the little telltale signs point to Mingyu’s actions being more than common curtesy.

Like now as you’re arguing with Seungkwan during game night about the correct pronunciation of your favorite candy.

“It’s caramel.”

You scoff, eyebrows furrowed defiantly as you glare at Seungkwan. “No. It’s caramel.”

Vernon and Seokmin watch the exchange with amused smiles while Minseo watches her brother. He wears a similar expression, except there’s a subtle emotion in his eyes as he’s looking at you. It’s been there since you slapped down your last two Uno cards in repulsed shock when Seungkwan mispronounced caramel.

Ten minutes later, neither of you are willing to concede to the other and Mingyu still looks like a lovesick puppy.

“In what world is it caramel?” Seungkwan screeches, rising up from his spot on the couch.

“Mingyu.” You call suddenly. “Is it caramel or caramel?”

Two pair of heated eyes look over to him pointedly. The room goes silent as everyone waits for the answer that will possibly get you two to stop arguing. Minseo watches her brother carefully as he puts down his nearly empty beer bottle. The move seems casual, but she knows he does it to distract himself from the fact that you’re practically saying take my side.

“It’s caramel.”

“Ha!” You yell in victory, pointing a smug finger at a sulking Seungkwan. “I told you!”

Your friend’s pout is bitter. “That’s not fair! You only asked Mingyu because you know he’s going to agree with you no matter what!”

It’s true, and the rest of your giggling friends know it. Minseo doesn’t miss her brother’s bashful smile, and it makes her realize that there might actually be something deeper than just a crush. So she waits until all the guests leave to confront her brother about his not-so-subtle behavior.

“Is there something going on with you and Y/N?”

Now, her brother is naturally clumsy and pretty terrible at hiding his feelings, but Minseo didn’t expect him to drop all the board games he was carrying. He scrambles to pick up all the scattered pieces, pointedly looking at the ground and not up at her with a pout like he would’ve usually done.

“I—” He coughs awkwardly as he haphazardly shoves random pieces into the wrong boxes. “What are you talking about?”

It’s almost insulting that he thinks he can hide the truth from her. “I mean that I already know everything. So quit playing, and tell me how long this has been going on.”

Mingyu’s broad shoulders slump in defeat. He should’ve known that Minseo would find out (she had a knack for finding out everything), but he honestly didn’t expect her to find out this soon.

“Fine.” His tone is resigned as he puts the precariously stacked board games on the coffee table. “It’s true that I took Y/N’s virginity, but I swear that I only did it because she asked—”

“You what?”

His sister’s sharp tone makes him pause. Minseo’s mouth is dropped open and her eyes are almost popping out of her head. Belatedly, Mingyu realizes that his little sister is not referring to the favor you had asked him to do weeks ago. An uncomfortable chill goes down his spine.

Fuck.

You were going to kill him.

It’s not Mingyu’s fault.

When you came to him and asked him to teach you how to have sex, he was rendered powerless to your pretty eyes that shined with so much trust. He knows it’s wrong for him to take his little sister’s best friend’s virginity, but ever since you were kids, he’s never been able to tell you no. Years later, nothing has changed.

“Spread them wider, baby.” His voice rasps as his hands go to pry your thighs apart until he’s left with the sight of your glistening cunt.

Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight of your pretty pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your own arousal, and all he’s done is kiss you and mark up a few places on your body. And yet, there’s already a messy web of arousal covering your puffy lips. His groan is deep and almost animalistic when he sees your pretty cunt clenching with need.

Minseo be damned, he was going to absolutely ruin you.

You mewl softly when Mingyu presses his middle and index fingers against your cunt to spread your lips apart. The heat from his fingers feels different from when you touch yourself. It feels so much better, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moans and whimpers from escaping like they want.

Your best friend’s brother has always been unfairly attractive, but he’s never looked hotter to you than he does now, licking his pink lips while looking at your pussy.

Mingyu glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve really never done this before?”

The beefy puppy between your legs thinks he might actually come untouched when you pout at him. That exact look is what got him into this situation in the first place. Your adorable pout always brought him to his knees.

“Gyu.” You whine, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”

He loves when you call him that, and it takes everything in him to hold himself back from shoving his cock inside you and fucking you roughly like he wants. That would have to be for another time.

“I’m not, baby.” He assures you before he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “I just need to know how far I should take this.”

The frown you give him is oddly determined. “You said you’d teach me everything.”

Fuck.

Mingyu wonders if you actually know what you’re asking for, but then he has to remind himself that you’re only inexperienced, not stupid. You came to him because you trust him, and he wouldn’t ever betray that trust. If you happened to be uncomfortable with anything, he would stop right away. Though, it seems like you have no intentions of telling him to stop.

The soft moan you let out when Mingyu starts to gently toy with your dripping slit is like music to his ears. He thinks you can’t get any hotter, but then you buck your aching cunt into his hand as if to say get on with it. Ever powerless to your desires, Mingyu slips two fingers past your folds. He curls them experimentally, feeling your warm, wet cunt stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought. Virgin tight.

“Fuck.” His growl is deep and has you clenching down on his fingers. “I need to taste you.”

Arousal is clouding your mind and making you feel drunk. The way Mingyu is looking at you like you’re the thing he’s wanted the most in the world has you gushing all over his fingers. His hot mouth latches on to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. You cry out loudly as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, stretching you out to prepare you for his cock.

“Gyu!” You cry out as you arch you back, grinding your cunt into his face in search of release.

Your moans become broken when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The groans he lets out makes you release more juices into his awaiting mouth. It’s almost embarrassing the way his room is suddenly full of the wet squelching sounds coming from your cunt, but you feel too good to actually care.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Mingyu groans into your sopping cunt. “You have the sweetest little cunt.”

All you can focus on is the way his tongue is fucking into you with a force that has you seeing stars. He runs his soft tongue along your aching folds skillfully until all you can do is cry out for him. Mingyu smirks into your folds, fingers slowly massaging deep inside you. The wanton cries you’re letting out make him scissor his fingers so you’ll be prepped enough to take his cock.

When you look down and see Mingyu’s pretty eyes looking up at you with unadulterated desire, the coil building in your stomach abruptly snaps. Mingyu moans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock twitches against the sheets when you keep rocking your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth. With a low groan, he keeps going, using his tongue to fuck you through your orgasm.

You’re a panting mess by the time he pulls away. His chin is covered in your release, and you briefly wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive. Mingyu licks his lips before he smashes them on yours. The taste of your own release makes you moan into his mouth, loving how his lips feel against yours.

You chase his lips when he suddenly pulls away. It’s almost cruel of him to laugh when you whine petulantly after he doesn’t give you what you want. But you can’t truly be mad. Not when it concerns Mingyu.

“Are you ready?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to his throbbing cock. He can’t deny the pleasure it gives him to see you gaping at it. It makes Mingyu think about the face you’ll make when he’s splitting you open.

“It’s...” Huge. You swallow nervously. “Will it fit?”

You can’t take your eyes off his monstrous dick. He’s stroking himself slowly, smearing the precum dribbling from his fat tip all over his veiny length. You can only watch in fascination like you’re in a trance, pussy clenching in desire. The only dicks you’ve ever seen are the ones from porn, but even those don’t compare to how thick and pretty Mingyu’s looks.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” Mingyu licks his lips, mind clouded with a lustful haze. “I’ll make it fit.”

The face you make when he uses your arousal to get his dick wet nearly makes him come right then and there. After years of fucking his fist to the thought of you, he finally has you underneath him looking more irresistible than ever.

“Ready, baby?” The pet name continues to fall from his lips so easily, and it’s making you unreasonably more horny than you already are. “Remember you can tell me to stop anytime.”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation. Instead of being nervous, you’re just eager, and you know it’s because you’re doing this with Mingyu who actually cares about you.

Mingyu shudders in pleasure as he slowly sinks his leaking tip into your tight pussy. Your warm and wet and already gripping him so tightly that he wonders if he’ll come once he gets the rest of cock inside you. The choked gasp of pleasure you let out makes him throb with pride and arousal. Your pretty mouth is dropped open in a silent moan, and he has to swoop down to give you a sweet kiss.

You whimper into his mouth, starting to feel the stretch burn as he continues to slide in deeper. Mingyu pulls away to place tender kisses along your jaw, whispering into your heated skin about how good you’re taking him. A soft moan is pulled from your throat when he rubs gentle circles on your clit. It eases the sting, and soon enough pleasure cancels out the pain.

“G-Gyu.” You mewl as he finally bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass. “Fuck. Your cock is so big.”

Your fucked out whine makes his dick throb. Mingyu only offers you a shy chuckle, thumb still working your sensitive clit. Your hot cunt is pulsing and gripping him so tightly that he knows the slightest movement will have him busting inside you. And while that’s one thing he’s dreamed of for a long time, this was about your pleasure not his.

“Like it?” His voice is seductive and not teasing at all which just turns you on more. “Tell me, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

His hips shift, and it makes his cock curve into your sweet spot that makes you arch your back. The moan you let out is louder this time, hips bucking in need. Your arousal is drenching his cock and spilling down to coat his heavy sack.

“Feels so fucking good, Gyu! Please move!” You whimper desperately as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Mingyu moans into your skin, hips moving upon your command. He starts to thrust in and out of your hot cunt with precise yet slow movements. His hands trail up to your bouncing tits, gently caressing and rubbing your hardened nipples. You moan again, turned on by how tenderly he’s touching you.

“Told you we’d make it fit, pretty.” His grin is so attractive that it makes you tighten impossibly and stain his cock with more cream.

Mingyu’s hips start to snap a little more desperately now. His cock seems to swell when he looks down to see how tightly you’re gripping him. Strings of arousal cling to your skin and his as he continues to stretch out your tight little cunt. His heavy balls slap against your ass as you continue to moan in pleasure.

“You’re dripping all over me, babe.” He grunts, feeling like he’s in heaven. “Am I making you feel that good?”

Just like outside the bedroom, Mingyu likes to be praised. Your heart swells with fondness, unable to believe how cute he can be even as he’s splitting you open on his cock. It makes you want to oblige him all the more.

“So fucking good, Gyu.” You moan wantonly as his cock continues to spear into you.

You’re sensitive, mewling and whining in pleasure as he snaps his hips at the perfect speed and intensity. Mingyu lets out a deep groan when your thighs start to quiver. Your eyes are rolling back as his cock keeps slamming against your sweet spot, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“God, you’re pretty.” Mingyu moans as you squeeze his cock tighter. “Prettiest little thing ever.”

Your entire body heats up, and you can’t help but pull him down for a passionate kiss. Mingyu moans into your mouth. His soft lips move against yours with a need that makes you ravenous. You start to meet his thrusts, eager for more of him.

The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room, and you don’t ever want it to end. Mingyu’s mouth, hands, and cock are too addicting for you to ever want anything else. With the way his throbbing dick keeps fucking into you desperately, you’re pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

When he reluctantly pulls away from your sweet lips, he trails wet kisses down to your neck. You moan out his name when you feel him start to mark you up. The ache in his cock grows when he feels your nails dig into his shoulders. Your sensual moans of his name sounds like music to his ears, and he knows he’ll be fucking his hand to the memory often.

Your orgasm is close, the coil in the pit on your stomach on the verge of snapping. All it takes is for his long fingers to smooth over your wet clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud for you to come undone. Your back arches off the mattress as you gush all over his cock with a loud cry of Mingyu’s name.

The erotic and breathtaking sight of you coming on his cock is something that leaves him breathless. It’s all Mingyu needs for his own orgasm to rip through him. He stills with a low groan of your name. You can feel his cock pulsate inside you as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your pussy. The two of you are moaning and whimpering as your walls spasm around his aching cock.

“That’s it, baby.” Mingyu moans as he rolls his hips to fuck you through both your highs.

You’re whimpering in pleasure, milking him for every last drop of cum he has. The way he fucks it back into you makes you feel delirious with pleasure, and your cunt gets tighter with need at the thought of doing it all over again.

Mingyu holds you close as you both pant—spent and satisfied. He gently coos at you, sweetly caressing your face as he keeps his cum plugged inside you with his still-throbbing cock.

“How was it, baby?” He wonders, big puppy dog eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You wrap your arms around his muscular back, bringing a hand up to gently play with his hair. The gentle hum you let out eases his worries. “You were amazing.”

The smile he gives you is bright and makes your chest jerk with affection. Mingyu gently caresses your body, telling you how good you were for him. It makes you burn for him all over again.

Before you can convince him to fuck you again, he gets up and goes into the bathroom. You watch curiously as he brings back a wet towel. It’s warm against your skin as he starts to clean you up. The act is somehow more intimate than him stuffing you full of cum, but you don’t hate it.

Once he’s done, he gets back into bed with you. It takes you by surprise when he pulls you on top of him. Mingyu caresses your naked back, basking in the feeling of your weight on him. His heart jumps when he feels you start to trace small patterns on his chest.

“Can we do that again?” Your voice is coy, and he really fucking loves it.

“Yes.” He promises. “I’ll order some takeout for us first then we can do it again. Unless you want to do it now.”

You stay silent for a moment before nuzzling your face his sculpted chest. With your eyes closed, you let out a content sigh. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

Mingyu caresses your head with a love stricken smile you can’t see. “Okay.”

In retrospect, Minseo should’ve realized it sooner.

The signs were there—have always been there, apparently. It’s almost embarrassing that it took her so long to realize something was going on. Especially when she thinks back to the annual camping trip that took place a week ago.

It started off like all the other trips, except Mingyu insisted that you drive with him since he wouldn’t subject you to being a third wheel to his sister and Vernon. This was only the start of Mingyu’s unwarranted clinginess toward you. Minseo didn’t think too much of it because no one liked being the third wheel, and her brother always has a way of guilt tripping like no one’s business.

The campground looks beautiful covered in hues of red and yellow. Mingyu has brought along his camera and is already taking pictures and candids of everyone setting up their space. He especially captures some of you taking in the beautiful autumn scenery. You always looked so pretty when you had a look of awe and wonder on your face.

“I didn’t see you taking that many pictures of me.” Seungcheol teases as he peeks at the camera screen Mingyu is smiling fondly at.

His friend’s neck burns, and before he can think to say anything back, your voice grabs his attention. Seungcheol snickers quietly. It’s this simple action that Minseo’s attention again.

“Gyu.” You whine, holding up the tent you brought in frustration. “Help me.”

Her helpful brother goes over to you immediately like a puppy being called by its owner. Minseo should’ve thought more about the way he hands over his prized possession to Seungcheol like it’s nothing. The smitten smile he directs at you doesn’t seem that way to her in the moment, but again—hindsight.

Mingyu’s tone is playful as he asks you what you need. You don’t answer him because in the next second he tells you to follow the instructions in spite of the fact that he’s already starting to put the sticks together to actually lift the tent off the ground. Mingyu goes on to say that you should’ve gotten a smaller, one-person tent instead of a large dome tent big enough to fit five people inside.

“The guy at the store told me it would be easy to set up!” You whine with a frown. “And it’s not my fault the instructions are impossible to understand.”

Mingyu’s laughter is full of affection and adoration. He shakes his head fondly as he continues to build your tent for you. “You need to learn how to do these sorts of things.”

“Why? That’s why I have you.”

Once again, she should’ve thought more about the bashful look on Mingyu’s face and the way his ears and neck turned red. Instead, she chose to make sure that Vernon was setting up their own tent correctly because she had also bought one very similar to yours.

By the time everyone has their tents set up, the sun is starting to set. Mingyu helps Seungcheol start the fire while everyone else helps prepare the snacks and drinks.

The vibe is peaceful as you all settle around the fire. Mingyu claims the spot next to you, and you’re all too happy to have him by your side. It goes unnoticed, but now the image is clear in Minseo’s memories.

“Here.”

You look over to see Mingyu handing you a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow at the end of it. Maybe it’s the way the setting sun hits face or maybe it’s the fact that he was careful not to burn the marshmallow since you didn't like that. Either way your chest throbs with something you’re sure is not appropriate to feel for your best friend’s brother.

“Thanks, Gyu.” You smile at him before you start making your s’mores.

The night progresses like this, with Mingyu roasting your marshmallows and you happily making the s’mores. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s right to keep doing this with him. He’s so sweet and attentive that sometimes this line you’ve drawn gets blurry. The worst part is that you don’t mind if that line isn’t clear because being with Mingyu is like having a cup of hot cocoa when it’s cold—comforting and appealing.

For now, you decide to enjoy the moment. Evaluating feelings and this deep affection you feel would have to wait.

Fall has always been a special time for Mingyu. The leaves always change to beautiful red and golden colors, the weather turns the kind of crisp that’s invigorating, and it’s a time when family gets together. And possibly the most important reason: it’s the season when he met you.

He was only nine years old when you two met. It was a random autumn day meant to uphold the lifetime tradition of his parents taking him and Minseo to the pumpkin patch. Picking out pumpkins was something he looked forward to all year because it was a time where his entire family was together.

Mingyu vividly remembers being caught by surprise when his sister brought along an unexpected guest. She was holding the hand of a girl with a solemn expression that was a great contrast to her own bright one. Minseo cheerfully introduced the unknown girl as her best friend. You had offered him a barley-there wave that had him wondering how his sunshine of a sister could possibly like someone so closed off.

It was a misconception on his part because on the car ride to the pumpkin patch, he realizes his sister couldn’t have found a better friend. Minseo talks possibly more than he does, but you listened to every word attentively, like actually listen. Also, you offered her (and Mingyu after some shy contemplation) the snacks in your bag.

Your overly cautious attitude reminded Mingyu of his cousin’s unfriendly cat. Trying to get you to open up was a challenge, but you slowly started to warm up to him as the evening went on. He truly won you over after he offered to carry the heavy pumpkin you chose. The unsure pout you directed at him was adorable, and his heart just soared when you quietly thanked him.

“Here.” You huffed out, feeling embarrassingly shy as you stuck out your small hand.

Mingyu’s grin soothed the bashfulness. He thanked you for the candy you gave him, claiming that the caramel you put in his hand is his favorite.

Looking back on it, that was the first time you tugged on his heartstrings.

Of course, it was completely innocent back then. There was no way you could’ve known that Mingyu held on to that piece of candy for as long as he could until he forgot it in a pair of pants that his mom threw in the washer. Nor could you have known that as you two got older, it killed him just a little bit every time you referred to him as Minseo’s older brother.

These feelings don’t make sense in his mind, but it all becomes clear to him the fall of his junior year.

Just like all those years ago, you found yourself at the pumpkin patch. Except this time you don’t have either of the Kim siblings by your side. Minseo was hanging out with her almost-boyfriend and of course Mingyu hadn’t joined you two at the pumpkin patch for years now. You weren’t uncomfortable being alone, but it did feel odd picking out a pumpkin without Minseo inspecting it to make sure you picked one suited for carving.

In your lonely search, you meet Lee Chan. He too had been left alone after his friends went off with their respective partners. What you don’t realize is that your resident puppy boy is watching this kindred meeting from afar. Unbeknownst to you, Minseo had texted her older brother asking him to keep you company because she still felt sorry for leaving you alone.

At the time, Mingyu can’t explain why his chest feels strangely heavy. It feels like he can’t approach you despite knowing you wouldn’t be unhappy to see him. So he doesn’t even though it’s arguably one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Later that night, his mom helps him come to the conclusion that this icky feeling is none other than petty jealousy.

As a teenage boy who loved his little sister more than anything, this realization was devastating. It was very likely that Minseo would be upset if she ever found out her brother had a crush on her best friend. The fear of what would happen if his feelings ever came to light was the reason Mingyu decided to keep it a secret.

After all, it was just a small, harmless crush.

Unfortunately for Mingyu, this teeny tiny crush soon blossomed into something more intense that he’s not ready to acknowledge. Time goes by, and yet his feelings haven’t gone away even when he starts to date. It makes him feel icky, and most likely the reason why none of his relationships ever last.

When it’s time for him to leave for college, he thinks that maybe he can move on. Only, you never give him that chance.

“Why don’t you ever bring enough clothes?”

It might seem like Mingyu is scolding you, but he’s actually only worried that you seem to value fashion over practicality. Your heart jumps when he takes off the scarf he’s wearing to put it around you, making sure it covers your neck and looks pretty with the outfit you’ve chosen. He doesn’t seem to notice that your eyes shine with endearment as he adjusts it to cover your mouth.

“Come on.” He absentmindedly grabs your hand, not realizing his touch is making your heart pound. “The cafe is only open for another hour.”

Mingyu had insisted that this new cafe had drinks to die for. So he waited until you got off work to go with you together. You’re glad his scarf covers the lower half of your face because you’re sure every single emotion you feel for him would be very obvious as he hands you a warm cup.

Walking in silence with Mingyu isn’t ever uncomfortable, but it does leave you to contemplate how you’re going to confess to him. He’s been nothing but sweet to you, and you hope he won’t be upset at your sudden feelings since you’re the one who insisted the sex between you two would be strictly platonic.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

It kills you that Mingyu can look so pretty while he’s tilting his head at you curiously. You let out a nervous breath. It was now or never.

“You told Minseo you took my virginity.”

The air goes still, and you feel like smacking yourself because that’s not at all what you were planning to say—not like that, anyway. Mingyu’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he feels a blush crawl up his neck and suffuse throughout his face. You don’t seem angry, but he can’t really tell with his scarf covering your face.

“I’m sorry!” He rushes. “I didn’t mean to, but—”

“I’m not mad.” You assure him with a laugh.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You let out a fond laugh. “And Minseo isn’t either.”

Before Mingyu can fully process your words, you crush him with a hug. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and press himself closer to you.

“I like you, Mingyu.” You confess, feeling like your heart is on the verge of exploding. “I like you so much.”

He stills in your arms. Slowly, he pulls away to look at your face. His expression is one of pure shock, and before you can brace yourself for any kind of rejection, Mingyu is kissing you.

The movements of his soft lips are needy and full of undeniable want. You moan into his mouth, returning his kiss with just as much vigor. It all feels like a wonderful dream, especially when you whisper against his lips that you want to go back to your place.

If this is a dream, Mingyu wishes it could go on forever.

Having you kneeled between his parted thighs, worshipping his cock in the exact way he’s shown you how has him coming apart quickly. You’re slobbering all over him, saliva slipping down the sides of his dick to lubricate him.

“Fuck, Gyu. You have the prettiest cock ever.” You gush, entire body hot with arousal and want.

The way he actually blushes as you praise him has your cunt dripping with more juices. You can’t wait to wreck him and have him writhing in pleasure. His cock is throbbing as you continue to lick and stroke him with your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip, licking into the slit which causes him to let out a guttural groan. The moans you let out run through the length of his dick in the most pleasurable way.

Mingyu feels completely fucked out at this point. He can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at sucking his cock. And now, he’s going to be the only man to experience what that pretty little mouth can do.

“Y/N, fuck.” He cries out as his orgasm abruptly hits.

As always, Mingyu looks absolutely breathtaking when he comes. His mouth is dropped open as a pretty blush covers his entire face. Dark eyes are unfocused and dazed as he keeps releasing thick ropes of cum into your mouth. The way you keep pumping and sucking him to squeeze more cum out of him is starting to make him tremble.

You pull off his cock with a satisfied grin. Mingyu’s chest is heaving as you go to straddle him.

“Wait!” He pants out, slowly coming out of his euphoric bliss. “It’s your turn—”

“I want you to fuck me now.”

Mingyu groans when he feels your creamy folds slide over his twitching cock. “But I really want to taste you.”

He’s so cute, you think as your cunt leaks with arousal. You hum in pleasure as you rub your aching cunt over the length of his dick. His fat tip is enveloped between your warm lips every time you grind forward while his heavy sack is slowly getting soaked with your arousal.

“Tell you what, puppy. After you fill me up with your cum I’ll let you eat it out of me, okay?”

You feel his cock throb at your words as your cream covers him entirely. Mingyu nods cutely, and that’s all you need to grab his pulsing cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you tease him by circling his tip against your slick entrance.

Mingyu moans loudly when you sink down. A choked whimper is forced out of him as you take him entirely, puffy lips brushing against his pelvis. His thick veins drag against your hot walls deliciously until his heavy balls are flush against your ass. It’s like all the air is being shoved out of your body to make room for his cock.

“God, Y/N. I need you to move. Please.”

You slowly grind on his cock, juices dripping down to his big balls and making a mess all over him. It’s probably really hard for him not to fuck his cock up into you, and it really turns you on that he’s trying so hard. You can tell he’s on the verge of breaking. Literally you can feel it. His cock keeps throbbing inside you like it’s on the verge of exploding.

“Show me what I’ve taught you, baby.” His voice is sultry and tempting—something you can’t say no to.

Immediately, you start to gyrate your hips. You two moan in sync as your pussy clenches tightly on his cock. Mingyu sucks on his bottom lip, completely beginning to lose his composure. His hands go to your waist, slowly guiding you as his imploring eyes gaze up at you with unmatched desire.

“Fuck, Gyu!” You cry out. “You’re so deep!”

The sound of your pleased cry, Mingyu starts to move his hips to thrust up into you. He groans lowly because it feels like his aching cock is hitting the hilt of your sopping pussy. Your soft hands smooth over his naked torso, crying out his name as you feel every inch of his muscular chest.

“Mmmh, pretty girl.” Mingyu hums in pleasure as his big hands smooth down your body to grab your ass. “Fucking my cock just right. Feels so fucking good.”

When he starts to kiss and suck on your neck as his cock spears into you, the coil in your stomach snaps. You moan his name loudly as you come all over his dick. Loud squelching fills the room as he continues to bounce you on his lap. His thickness is stretching you deliciously, the unmistakable sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass mixing in with your moans of pleasure.

Mingyu fucks into you a few more times before you feel his hot, thick cum spurt inside you. His euphoric moan is as pretty as ever, and you can’t help but move your hips to fuck him through his high.

You sag against him, and it’s silent for a moment until you bring your lips to his ear. “I want more of your cum, puppy.”

That’s how you find yourself on your side with Mingyu behind you. Your back is pressed against his beefy chest as he lifts your leg up to expose your soiled cunt to the cool air. He nuzzled his nose into your neck before he trails it up to your cheek. Your body shivers as his arm breath fans against your ear.

“Watch how your pretty pussy stretches open for me.”

You wonder what he means until his other hand lifts up your chin delicately to look at the full body mirror he bought for you a week ago after you told Minseo you wanted it. His fat cock is teasing your entrance, and the filthy sight makes your cunt flutter in need.

Without a word of warning, Mingyu thrusts his thick dick inside you, heavy sack flush against your creamy cunt. You whine out in pleasure, feeling completely full and stuffed to the brim. It’s impossible to look away from the mirror because you can see how tightly your pussy is gripping him.

Mingyu’s cock throbs inside you as his skin tingles with desire. He starts to thrust slowly. The lewd wet sound coming from your cunt is erotic as it fills your room. You moan again when the hand that isn’t spreading you open comes up to play with one of your tits. The sensations of his cock hitting your sweet spot while his fingers pinch and pull on your erect nipple have you close again.

If you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure Mingyu’s throbbing cock is providing you with, you’d tell him to let you record because the sight of him doing you like this is one you want to remember forever. His thrusts start to pick up as your moans get louder. He’s groaning into your ear as his fat tip slams against your cervix.

Mingyu pounding into you while in this positions feels like he’s tearing your pretty little pussy apart. He messily kisses your jaw as start to tremble in his hold, grunting when you tighten around him once again like you’re trying to milk him.

“You look so pretty like this, baby.” Mingyu’s moan is low, but you hear it perfectly. “Sweet little pussy was made to take my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you whimper out a nearly incoherent agreement. So lost in pleasure, you don’t realize your second orgasm is one thrust away.

“Mingyu!” You moan as your orgasm hits.

Juices spurt out obscenely and cover his entire cock and the sheets bellow you. Mingyu groans as he holds your legs wide open. He keeps fucking your messy cunt as you squirt all over him. All you can make out in your euphoric haze is Mingyu calling you pretty while his twitching cock keeps ramming deep into you.

“Fill me up.” You manage to mewl out as you turn your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

Mingyu moans into your mouth, thrusting into you deeply before he stills. He forces his tongue into your mouth as he floods your sloppy cunt with his cum. You swallow each others moans as he stuffs you full to the point where you can feel it leak out of you. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside you is one of your favorite feelings which is why you’re eager to feel it at least one more time.

It’s why Mingyu is quick to put you into a different position, your legs pressed into your chest as he rams his aching cock inside you once again. Your fucked out eyes are the prettiest, and he knows that he’ll never get tired of that stare. He loves how your gaze never loses the affection you feel for him. It makes him feel like you’ll never leave him.

“You feel so good, Gyu.” You whimper as his big cock spears into you.

Mingyu roughly pounds into your ruined cunt, not holding back since he’s determined to fill you up one last time. His cock throbs as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your pretty mewls and whines mix in perfectly with the sound of skin slapping. It only makes him fuck you harder.

His dick forces out an obscene amount of juices from your fluttering pussy. Mingyu is so deep that it almost feels like he’s in your guts. You always feel so full when he fucks you like this, and all you can feel is bolts of euphoria dancing across your skin.

“Come for me, pretty.” Mingyu urges sweetly as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. “Come all over my cock and cover me with your sweet cream.”

Somehow he feel just as deep from this angle. He keeps railing your tight cunt, splitting you open to fully claim you as his. Your senses go into overdrive when he slips his fingers down to your puffy clit to rub gentle circles. At this point you’re trembling beneath him, all thoughts gone as he thrust harder and deeper inside you.

Mingyu’s eyes are locked on the way your tight pussy swallows his thick cock. The way your cream covers him completely make him more ravenous. He’s hitting your spongy spot with mastered precision, and it only takes a few more thrusts for the coil in your stomach to snap.

Your moan is pornographic as your walls contract and your juices squirt out everywhere. Mingyu’s pace doesn’t falter as you cover him with your orgasm. He groans loudly, loving how you can only seem to chant his name.

“God, you look pretty when you come on my cock. So pretty. Every. Fucking. Time.” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls.

Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around the thickness of his cock. Mingyu slowly releases your legs and goes to give you a passionate kiss. His hips move slowly as he fucks his cum back into you. With one last peck he pulls away and slowly eases his cock out of your messy pussy.

You moan again when he suddenly starts to lap up the mess between your legs. You’re too fucked out to stop him. That, and you did say he could eat his cum out of your pussy after you were done (plus it just feels so fucking good). He licks and sucks on your clit until there’s nothing left to lap up.

When he crawls back up your body, your insides clench at the erotic sight of him licking his lips. “So fucking sweet.”

You pull him down for another kiss. The taste of you two mixed together is so filthy yet so addicting that you have to lick every inch of his mouth. Mingyu pulls you flush against him as he continues to kiss you like he never wants to breath again.

Minutes later, you two are still in your bed, cuddling and unwilling to separate from each other.

“This feels like a dream.” Mingyu sighs into your hair.

You hum, running your finger tips along his biceps. “It’s not a dream. I really do adore you, Kim Mingyu.”

He buries his face in your neck, mumbling into your heated skin that the adoration he has for you is endless.

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7s3ven · 9 months

Text

ONE CUP OF COFFEE. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a series of rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?”

Warnings: Smoking, mentioning of throwing up, mentioning of weed, swearing here and there, mentioning of hooking (pretty tame for a Theodore Nott fic tbh)

—

“One coffee. Black. No milk or sugar. Make it hotter than usual.” Theodore Nott wasted no time in repeating his order to the worker behind the counter. A new coffee shop had opened inside of Hogsmeade and in the Slytherin’s opinion, their drinks were better than any muggle one.

He tossed a few golden coins onto the table before walking away and taking a seat in a deserted corner. He liked to be away from people because despite being part of a popular Slytherin group and partying often, he wasn’t a social person.

The quiet lulling of muggle songs played around in the cafe, bouncing off the walls. Theodore pulled his turtle neck up higher, covering his bare skin from the cold air. It nipped at his slim fingers and he wished he had taken a pair of Draco’s Dior gloves now.

The rusted bell attached to the door dully rang as someone else entered. The cafe wasn’t too crowded. There were a few other students scattered here and there but not many people were willing to freeze just to grab a coffee.

Melted snow dripped off Theodore’s boots as his observant eyes followed the actions of the newcomer. He couldn’t tell what house she was in because she was wearing all white, but she definitely wasn’t a Slytherin. The girls clad in green and silver had a certain aura; an unfriendly, poisonous, and addictive one.

This girl radiated off sunshine and daffodils and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Theodore guessed she was in Hufflepuff because she had a certain charm to her bright smile.

“One cinnamon chai latte.” She ordered, kindly handing the cashier a few coins. She was practically the opposite of Theodore.

“Name?” The cashier asked, much comfortable in her presence as opposed to the Slytherin who sat a few feet away.

“Y/N.”

Her name jogged Theodore’s memory. She was the girl Lorenzo had been paired with in herbology. It was quite a long and dragged out assignment so whenever Lorenzo wasn’t hanging out with his friends, he was with her.

Theodore subconsciously sat up straighter and leaned forward to get a better look at Y/N. Lorenzo described her as a pretty and bright girl with a warm perspective on life. Instead of saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” She always said “what’s the best that could happen?”

Theodore was somewhat impressed by how positive a person could be.

He didn’t notice he had been staring until Y/N turned her head, innocent E/C eyes burning holes into his. Theodore almost jumped. He quickly adverted his gaze, clenching his jaw.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Y/N sit at the table beside him. She sat with her legs oddly crossed and her body was turned so she could look at him.

“Theodore Nott, right? Enzo’s friend?” Her voice was gentle, like a meadow full of daisies and glittering ponds of water.

Theodore thickly swallowed before he nodded. “Yeah. Lo’s talked about you. You were his partner for potions.” The brunette had never heard anybody call Lorenzo by Y/N’s nickname, but maybe that was because he didn’t allow anybody to call him that. Unless it was Y/N, of course.

The poor boy was smitten with her during fifth year but he shyly backed off when he realised he had too much competition. To this day, Draco was still trying to convince him to man up.

“He talked about me?”

“Only once or twice.” Theodore lied through his teeth. He may be a tease, but he refused to out his friend.

“The assignment we did was so annoying. I’m glad I had him as my partner. If it was anybody else, I would’ve gone mad.” Y/N signed and a small laugh slipped past her pink-tinted lips.

“You practically saved his herbology grades. Lo is smart but his plant knowledge is in the negatives.” Theodore huffed in amusement, his mouth curving into a sly smirk.

“He’s good with everything else, though.” Y/N uttered. Out of the whole Slytherin group, Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy had the highest grades. Blaise couldn’t care less; he still scored pretty high but grades weren’t his whole life. And Matteo and Theodore, the players they were, didn’t even bother studying for exams.

“Black coffee.” The barista suddenly called out, making Theodore realise he had never given the worker his name.

“That must be your’s.” Y/N said, nodding over at the steaming drink. She smiled, which almost set Theodore’s heart alight. It was already drowning in gasoline and her damn grin may as well be the flaming match. “Theo?” She waved a hand in front of his face as he spaced out.

“Huh?” Finally, his blank eyes shifted to stare at her.

“Your coffee.” Y/N reminded him.

“Oh. Right. I’ll see you later.” Theodore was quick to stand up and grab his drink, the paper cup burning the palm of his hand.

“See you later, Theo!” Y/N called out, not seeming to notice his uneasy mood.

Theodore sped walked out of the coffee shop, holding a hand to his chest. His stomach sank as dread overwhelmed him.

Him and Matteo were like two peas on a pod. They shared the same habits too, like drinking their sorrows away and smoking until their lungs burned. And let’s not forget their infamous reputations as playboys. Theodore Nott didn’t do relationships so he refused to let a soft Hufflepuff change his mind.

Despite shoving down whatever warm feeling he felt when he was next to Y/N, Theodore couldn’t help but crane his head in search for a certain flash of H/C hair.

“Black coffee. Extra hot.” He muttered absentmindedly to the same cashier who had served him a week before.

“Name?” She asked, bored eyes gazing up at him.

“Theo.” He quickly replied, turning his head again when he thought he saw Y/N. He felt disappointed when it wasn’t her. The worker seemed to notice.

“Are you looking for that Hufflepuff you were talking to last time?” She questioned, arching a thin brown eyebrow. Theodore glanced down at her name tag that read Eulia.

“No.” He quickly denied her inquiry, wrapping his long Slytherin scarf tighter around his bare neck.

“She comes in every week around this time. She’ll be here soon.” Eulia said, glancing over Theodore’s shoulder to take in the growing line. She cleared her throat, reminding Theodore of where he was.

As usual, he threw some coins onto the countertop and walked away to the same table he sat at before. His head perked up when he heard the sound of familiar laughter.

Y/N walked in, waving good-bye to her Ravenclaw friend. “The usual, Y/N?” Eulia asked, already typing her order into the monitor.

Y/N practically bounced over to Theodore, taking a seat in front of him. “Hey, long time no see. I thought I’d see you at school but I guess not.”

“I was busy.” Theodore lied. In truth, he had been hauled up in his dorm and listening to Draco rant about Pansy.

“Doing what?” Y/N innocently tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious.

Theodore, as blunt and brainless as ever, blurted out the first thing he could think of. “Weed, drugs, and smoking.” He wanted to bash his head into the table. What kind of response was that?

Yes, he used to do all those things but he had toned it down. The only addiction he had was smoking now.

“I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that popped up in the mind.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Y/N laughed, “By the way, your cigarettes are about to fall.” She pointed to the packet that was lazily shoved into Theodore’s pocket. He quickly caught it.

“I don’t do weed or drugs anymore.” He uttered, “Just so you know.”

From the coffee machines, Eulia rolled her eyes. “Coffee for Theo. Cinnamon chai latte for Y/N.” She called out, placing the drinks down.

Theodore quickly stood up. “I’ll get them.” He offered, not waiting for a response.

“Smooth.” Eulia said as he grabbed the drinks.

“Cut me some slack. I’m used to hooking up with toxic girls, not chatting over coffee with a sweet Hufflepuff.” Theodore lightly scoffed.

“So, Theo, what do you want to do when you graduate?” Y/N asked as soon as he sat back down again.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” In all his years of Hogwarts, he had never thought about it. “What about you?”

“I want to open a bakery.” Y/N said like she had been waiting the question to come up.

Theodore raised his eyebrows. “You like baking?”

“Yup! I’ll bake you something next week. Do you like chocolate?”

“Who doesn’t?” Theodore only knew one person who didn’t like chocolate, and that was Pansy. But to be fair, she had gotten food poisoning from spiked chocolate in third year.

It was safe to say that she spent most of that day hunched over the toilet while Matteo held back her hair and Lorenzo gently got her to drink water, which she threw up too but it’s the thought that counts.

“Great! I have to go now. I’m meeting up with another friend. See you at school, Theo!” Y/N effortlessly chugged her scorching hot drink. She slammed the cup against the table, grinning.

“What the…” Theodore was still trying to process what had just happened as he watched Y/N run out of the cafe and into the arms of her friend

The next week, Y/N arrived earlier than Theodore. He had been held up by Blaise, who was curious as to why he was visiting the same coffee shop three times in a row.

Theodore entered the store after managing to shake Blaise off. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the atmosphere being warm.

Eulia, who seemed to be on duty every day, had already made his drink and placed it in front of Y/N. She was too busy doodling on his cup with a permanent marker to notice his sudden appearance.

“Cute outfit.” He said as he sat down, the legs of his chair scraping against the tilted floor. Y/N’s face visibly lit up at his small compliment. Theodore observed her pink sweater with little bows sewn on it and her short white skirt with fleece leggings lining her legs.

“As promised, your cookie.” Y/N slid the box over to Theodore, smiling. “I would recommend heating it up. A warm cookie is better than a cold and hard one.”

“Do you bake often?” Theodore asked, taking the box and letting it rest on his lap.

“I try to bake as much as I can. I like helping the house elves too.” Y/N began to fondly talk about her love for baking and as much as Theodore tried to focus on her words, his gaze wandered to a suspicious group huddled in the opposite corner.

Once Theodore looked past their dark sunglasses and large coats, he recognised them as his friends. He saw Draco shove past Pansy and he surely pointed at Y/N then at Theodore before slapped his hands together.

Theodore stared at him, puzzled. And it showed as he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Y/N didn’t seem to notice his wavering attention, much to his relief.

“Do you want to bake together sometime, Theo?” Y/N asked, bringing him back to their conversation. He felt a little guilty because he hadn’t heard another word of what she had said.

“Sure. Though, I don’t think I’d be much help. Matt and I tried making edibles once and we messed that shit up.”

From behind Draco, Matteo glared at Theodore. It was your fault, he mouthed. He wasn’t lying, Theodore had gotten just about every ingredient in the recipe wrong.

“Edibles?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.

“Weed brownies.” Theodore elaborated, “But that was last year. I don’t do that anymore, remember? I only party and smoke.”

“I know. You told me.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Y/N’s gaze flickered to his packed of cigarettes that always looked like it was about to fall out.

“Would you like to come to a party with me?” Theodore asked, leaning forward. There was one in the Slytherin common room next week. Normally, people from other houses weren’t invited but if you had the right connections, you’d be let in.

“Parties aren’t my thing. I… don’t like the vibe. You know?”

“That’s fine. You ever tried smoking?”

“No. Cedric offered to teach me but I declined.” Y/N frowned at the lost opportunity.

“I’ll teach you.” Theodore said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you keeping me company wouldn’t be so bad.” He grabbed his packet, sliding it across the table. “These are my good ones. Keep ‘em and whenever you’re having a bad day or just wanna have a smoke, find me. I’ll light one for you.”

From across the room, Matteo lightly gasped. Theodore never ever shared his good cigarettes with anyone, not even him.

“Really?” Y/N picked up the worn-out box, staring at it.

“Yeah. I gotta get going. My friends are probably wondering where I am.” Theodore, once again, lied through his teeth. He knew his friends had questions and he didn’t want to keep them waiting. He stood up, feeling Pansy’s gaze burn a hole through him.

“Enjoy the cookie!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning and waving him off.

Theodore smiled. “I’m sure I will, love.” He walked out of the cafe, his friends following close behind and bombarding him just like he had predicted.

“You clearly have some sort of feelings towards her.” Panay said as she poked the brunette beside him. All throughout breakfast, Panay had been trying to get Theodore to admit his growing affection for Y/N. He denied it every time.

“I don’t.” He said for the third time, leaning down to stuff some bacon into his mouth. As he quickly chewed, his gaze flickered to Y/N.

“You’re looking at her again!” Pansy exclaimed, huffing. “It’s so obvious you like her!”

“Where’s Lo and Draco?” Theodore changed the subject, realising the two boys were missing.

“You can’t change the topic. You like her and you know it.” Unfortunately for Theodore, Pansy was persistent. Maybe a little too much.

“Theo likes who?” Lorenzo tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The whole group, even Blaise who laughed at awkward situations, froze.

Nobody responded for a moment before Blaise put down his fork. “Y/N. He likes Y/N L/N.” Theodore glared at the boy, wondering why on hell he’d even tell Lorenzo the truth.

“… Oh.” Lorenzo didn’t say much as he sat down, glancing over at Y/N. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”

“I don’t like her. End of conversation.” Theodore groaned, taking a huge gulp from his goblet.

“I don’t believe you.” Lorenzo uttered, pointing his fork at Theodore’s eyes, “Your eyes say it all. You keep looking at her every minute and when you do, your eyes soften.”

Pansy snickered, nudging Theodore. “Told you.”

“If you don’t like her, then you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out, would you?” Matteo piped up.

“You aren’t her type.” Theodore immediately replied, scoffing.

“We’re practically the same, Theo. If I’m not her type then you aren’t. She’s pretty and all but I don’t date. That guy, on the other hand, seems like he does.” Matteo pointed over to a Ravenclaw boy approaching Y/N. The whole Slytherin group watched as he nervously asked her something and when she slowly nodded, his face lit up.

Theodore clenched his hands into fists. “Did he just ask her out?” He seethed, clenching his jaw.

“You don’t like her, remember? You shouldn’t care.” As usual, Matteo had that same infuriating smirk on his face. “Anyway, what are we doing for the party tonight?”

Theodore had forgotten all about it. He faintly remembered Y/N saying parties weren’t her thing. Did she like guys who didn’t party? That Ravenclaw boy looked like he didn’t. Is that why she said yes?

“I’m not doing. Not really my thing.” He uttered, shrugging. His friends looked at him in disbelief.

“Not your thing?” Matteo stammered, “Mate, the only thing you do is party! What’s gotten into you?!”

“He’s trying to turn into Y/N’s ideal type.” Pansy snickered, “He knows he isn’t the blueprint and he can’t see her with anyone else so he’s improving himself.”

“Respect, bro. But what about Izzi?” Matteo motioned to the Slytherin girl down a few rows who was Theodore’s favourite hookup.

“I don’t care about her.”

“What about the drinks?”

“I need to cut my alcohol intake.”

“Smoking? You can’t give up smoking! You’re addicted!”

“Y/N has my cigs. When she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”

“And if she never wants to learn?”

“Then I won’t pester her. Not smoking for a while might do me some good.” Theodore on the brink of giving up smoking for some girl was a huge deal.

Matteo leaned over to Draco, “Is he sick?”

Pansy lightly snorted and she teasingly grinned, “If you mean lovesick, then yeah.”

To be honest, Theodore didn’t even know what he was doing. His head tried to convince him to return to the common room and drink like he usually did, but his heart said no.

That’s how he ended up in the courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze.

“Theo?” An all too familiar voice called out. He practically spun around, facing Y/N. “I thought you’d be at your party.” She stared at him, confused.

“I’m taking a break from all that.” He said. Y/N silently sat beside him on the stone bench.

“I still have your cigarettes if you want them.” Y/N said, handing the packet over. “I thought about it and I don’t think I want to smoke just yet.”

“Thanks, love.” Theodore took the box, shoving it into his pocket without hesitation. Normally, he’d take one out and light it up but tonight was different.

“So, that Ravenclaw boy.” Theodore drawled. “He asked you out, huh?”

“Hm? Oh, Rowan? Yeah. I only said yes to be nice though because he helped me with some work last year.”

“You’re too kind, love. You need to know your boundaries.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated up at the sound of his endearing nickname. “I can’t say no now. It’ll just be one date then I’ll say it didn’t work out.”

“What if he wants a second date? What will you do?” Theodore moved closer to Y/N so he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. His heart jumped at their close proximity.

“Then I’ll tell him I don’t want one.” Y/N whispered, staring up at Theodore with those gentle eyes he liked so much.

“I liked your cookie, by the way.” Theodore slowly smiled, “It was good.”

“I’ll bake you a few more next time.” Y/N beamed. “I’m trying a new recipe for a brownie so I’ll give you one too!” Theodore smiled as she jumped into another rant about baking. This time, he could actually listen without being pestered by his friends.

Theodore, as usual, walked into the cafe around the same time he usually did. Eulia spotted him and subtly waved. “Has Y/N come in yet?” He asked.

Eulia hesitated before she pointed over at Y/N and Rowan. Theodore visibly deflated. He knew Y/N was only being nice to the Ravenclaw but he still felt a twinge of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Theo. If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t looked like she’s enjoyed the date. She looks much happier talking to you.” Eulia handed him his coffee.

“Right.” He sat down at a nearby table, glancing over at Y/N every so often. The slight pang in his heart reminded him of why he never dated in the first place. He quietly cleared his throat, deciding that whatever butterflies he felt for Y/N had to be drowned.

He stood up and Y/N immediately caught his gaze. She smiled and waved when Rowan wasn’t looking, but Theodore ignored her. Slowly, she lowered her hand.

As Rowan ranted on about how Ravenclaw was the best house, Y/N couldn’t help but think of what she had done to possibly anger Theodore. So much that he ignored her when he usually enjoyed her small smiles and secretive waves. She blocked out Rowan’s voice, frowning. He couldn’t grab her attention like Theodore could.

If only she knew that Theodore was simply trying not to fall in love.

Theodore avoided her for the rest of the week. Whenever she tried to approach him, he’d walk away. Even his friends were puzzled. After another failed attempt of trying to talk to Theodore, Pansy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll talk to him.” She said.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. He’s been acting so moody all of a sudden.” Y/N sighed and pouted.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Matteo snickered at his own joke but immediately stopped when nobody else laughed with him. “I mean, Theo hasn’t had a good drink, fuck, or smoke since Monday. And all he did on that day was smoke for five minutes before he got caught.”

“I thought he liked doing all those things. Why’d he stop if it’s just going to make him grumpy?” Y/N murmured, playing with the hem of her blouse. Matteo and Pansy exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn’t expose Theodore so early.

“He’s just being unreasonable. Don’t worry, we’ll get through to him.” Matteo grinned, his eyes flickered to the box in Y/N’s hands. “More cookies for him?”

She nodded. “Could you give this to him? It might make him feel better.” Matteo lowly hummed, taking the box. He and Pansy walked off after Theodore, muttering to each other about what could possibly be wrong with their friend.

“Theo.” Matteo called out as they entered the Slytherin Chamber. They found him sprawled out on the couch, a burning cigarette in his mouth. “Y/N made you cookies.”

Theodore looked at the box in Matteo’s outstretched arms. “I don’t want ‘em.” He said with a lazy flick of his hands.

“But you said you love her cookies. Jeez, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Matteo scoffed as he grabbed one, shoving it into his mouth. “If a girl made me cookies like these, I’d fall in love.”

“That’s the problem!” Theodore exclaimed loudly. “I’m Theodore Nott, Hogwarts resident fuck boy. I don’t do relationships! But Y/N- Y/N is making me feel things I shouldn’t!” He groaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“That’s the problem?” Pansy huffed, taking a seat beside him. “Theo, look at yourself. You haven’t partied in ages, you haven’t drank, you haven’t had sex with any other girl since last month. And you haven’t been smoking up until now! If you’re willing to stop all that shit for Y/N then you obviously like her!”

“What if I’m just concealing it, huh? What if I haven’t changed and if I date Y/N, then I hurt her? I don’t care about any other girl’s feelings but Y/N, fuck. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Figure your feelings out then decide what you want to do. Easy peasy.” Matteo shrugged, eating another cookie. Theodore clicked his tongue, snatching the box out of his hands.

“It better be easy or I’m going to smoke all your favourite cigs, Matt.”

Matteo was lying. It was not easy to figure out how he felt towards Y/N. Every time he got close to her, he changed his mind last minute and rushed off. It earned him some weird looks but he couldn’t care less.

“Have you even slept lately?” Matteo questioned, slamming a cup of coffee in front of Theodore. He groaned.

“Do I look like I’ve slept?” He muttered, glowing at Matteo.

“Like a baby.” His friend teased, cruelly laughing. Lorenzo glanced over Theodore’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

“Y/N’s coming this way.” He whispered, kicking Theodore.

“What?” He looked around, panicked. Y/N was indeed walking towards him. He grabbed his coffee, splashing it onto Matteo’s wrinkled blouse.

“Yo! What the fuck, dude? That’s hot!” Matteo seethed, resisting the urge to peel his wet shirt off. Some girls hoped he would.

“Sorry, Matt. It was an accident. I’ll help you clean up.” Theodore tried to play his stunt off as an accident while practically dragging Matteo out of the hall.

“Okay, seriously, what was that all about?”

“I needed an excuse to get away.”

“So you spilled hot coffee on me?!”

“I would’ve let you do the same.” Theodore glared at his friend as he sat down and slumped. “She’s everywhere. How is she so social? I can’t get away from her.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Have you been running away from Y/N this whole time?” Matteo questioned, arching an eyebrow. “It’s hilarious to imagine you running away from a girl.”

“Shut up. I’m processing things.” Theodore sighed.

“Just talk to her, Theo.” Matteo lightly nudged his leg, “What else can you lose? You’ve already lost your dignity.”

It had been a few weeks since Theodore had returned to the coffee shop. But finally, he strutted through the doorway with his usual uncaring demeanour.

Someone else entered as Theodore stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything he had missed about this cafe.

“Theo?” Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stiffened and slowly turned around. “Are you having a coffee?”

“I’ve already had one, actually. I was just seeing if this place had changed.” Theodore wanted to walk away but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, there’s no harm in having another one, right? It’s on me.” Y/N smiled at Eulia, “One cinnamon chai latte and…” She thought for a moment, glancing over at Theodore, “You’ve already had a coffee so one cream latte as well!”

Y/N paid and brushed past Theodore.

“Kiss her.” Eulia hissed, harshly poking Theodore’s shoulder.

“I’m not kissing her.” Theodore replied back in a hushed whisper.

“Theo, you coming?” Y/N called out, looking over her shoulder.

There was barely anybody in the cafe and even if there was, Eulia would’ve ignored their drinks to make Y/N and Theodore’s.

Theodore reached out to grab his but Y/N was quicker. She grasped both drinks, smiling at him. “We don’t have to be back at school for a while so let’s sit here.”

Theodore nervously followed behind Y/N to their usual table. He sat down, rigid and stiff. He saw his cup and glared at Eulia, who laughed. She had written a message on the cardboard, kiss her, and Theodore was quick to cover it.

He looked out the window, almost jumping with joy when he saw Matteo. “Oh! Matt! I need to talk to him! Sorry, Y/N. I’ll see you later!” He ran out of the cafe, crashing into his friend.

“Matteo! Quick! Do something!” Theodore shook his friend, urging him to create a distraction.

“Is this about Y/N?” He asked.

“She’s in the coffee shop- don’t look!” Theodore shoved his friend.

“And you need me to something stupid?”

Theodore eagerly nodded but was unprepared when Matteo pushed him forward and down a snowy hill. “Theo! Sorry! My hand slipped! I’m coming!” Matteo yelled out in a fake worried voice as Theodore rolled and got a mouthful of snow.

Y/N watched their strange interaction as she sipped on her drink. “… He didn’t call me love like he usually does.”

Y/N hummed to herself as she slipped on a pair of mittens and took out a tray of cookies. She placed the hot metal tray on the counter, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air.

She poured herself a cup of light coffee and sat down, swinging her legs. She lifted her head when she heard the sound of quiet swearing and smelled the scent of cigarettes and cologne.

“Theo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. It was silent for a moment before the boy sheepishly pushed the kitchen doors open.

“I was looking for a snack for Pansy. She’s not feeling well.” He looked around, staring at everything but Y/N.

“I would offer her a cookie but she doesn’t really like chocolate, does she?” Y/N circled her finger around the rim of her cup, “Would you like some coffee? I made it myself.”

Theodore found himself sitting across from her against his will. He watched as she poured him a cup, softly smiling.

“Thanks.” He stammered, grabbing the white mug and gulping it down.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Careful! Isn’t it hot?”

Theodore slammed the cup down, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. “No.” He wheezed, his vocal cords threatening to give up on him, “I’m fine. Tastes great.”

“You’ve spilled some.” Y/N said. She leaned forward, pointing at his collar. His top two buttons were undone and hot coffee trickled down his skin. “That must hurt. Here, let me help.”

Y/N dabbed a tissue against Theodore’s collar and he flinched as her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin. She noticed, peeking up at him through her lashes.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?” She asked, taking a small step back.

“What?” Theodore choked. He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite to be honest.

“You keep running away from me. And you left me in the cafe the other day. And you didn’t wave back. Do you hate me?”

Theodore hated how he could see her E/C eyes glass over. He fiddled with his mug, tapping his nails against the porcelain.

“I… have to go. Pansy needs me.” He stood up, leaving without another word. He was doing what he did best; running away from his problems.

With Theodore out of the picture, Y/N felt lonely. She dug around in her pocket, confused when she fished out a cigarette. “Oh… it must’ve fallen out.” She murmured.

She was on her way to the cafe, but not to meet up with Theodore. The day after he had walked out on her, again, a Gryffindor had approached her and asked her out. She said yes in hopes this date would be better than her date with Rowan.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. In fact, she felt like it was worse. Y/N stared at her cup as the boy beside her talked on and on about his love for quidditch.

“What’s your hobby?” He suddenly asked.

“Baking.” Y/N answered absentmindedly.

“Oh, that’s kind of boring. Quidditch is better, don’t you think?”

Y/N resisted the urge to sigh. Theodore never insulted her love for baking.

“Do you do anything else?” The boy questioned.

“I study.”

“Jeez, you really are boring. You wanna come to a party with me? I know a guy who’ll hook us up with some coke.”

“No thanks.” Y/N rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, watching the clock closely so she could dart away as soon as the date was over.

Someone suddenly pulled up a chair in front of Y/N. “Coke is boring.” Theodore uttered, “Baking is better.”

Y/N tried to conceal her smile since she was still upset with him, but when he winked at her, she couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” The Gryffindor sneered.

“I’m here to thank you for keeping my girl company.” Theodore grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Y/N by the wrist, tugging her out of the cafe.

“Why do you choose the shittiest guys to go out with?” Theodore asked.

Y/N lightly huffed. “It’s not like I mean to. At least they don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk, though.”

“You still upset with me, love?”

“You hurt my feelings, Nott.” Y/N pulled out the lone cigarette, shoving it into Theodore’s hand, before hurrying off.

He quickly placed it between his lips and lit it. “Let me explain, love!” He exclaimed, chasing after her. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke.

“Okay. Then explain.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest.

“What? Here? Now?” When Theodore saw the unamused look on Y/N’s face, he sighed. “Fine, but this is going to sound stupid.” He took another hit from his cigarette, needing all the courage he could get.

He took a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful person and I didn’t want to risk hurting you so I tried to distance myself but that backfired and I was trying to process my feelings because I’m Theodore Nott. I don’t do relationships. But you made me want to give it a go so I got scared and that made me do stupid shit like spilling coffee on Matt or running away or allowing Matt to push me down a hill.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Y/N! I like the way you smile and the way your eyes light up and I like how you look and me and how fond you are of baking! I like how you take the time to make me cookies because it makes me feel special! You treat me so differently from other girls and that’s how I know you aren’t just around for a hook up! I like your perfume and your hair and your outfits and the way you skip when you’re happy and how you read classic Muggle books because you want a cute teen romance!”

“You noticed all of that… about me?”

“How could I not? You have such a charming aura and I can’t stand it because no matter how much I try to deny it, I like you.”

“You really like me?” Y/N knew about Theodore’s reputation and she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. But what if he was just toying with her?

“I do.”

“Okay then. Hug me!” Y/N exclaimed, confident he was joking. Theodore shrugged before embracing her tightly. “Uh… hold my hand!” He intertwined their fingers without hesitation. “Kiss me!” Y/N was sure he wouldn’t do it but when he leaned down and pecked her lips, she froze.

“Are you done? There’s a lot more things I’d do for you, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you like me? Like, really? Because what if we get married and you decide you don’t like me but we already have two kids and a cat together? Who will keep the cat? Or will we have shared custody over it?” Y/N spoke so fast Theodore could hardly understand her.

“What about the children?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What about the cat, Theo?”

“I really do like you, Y/N. Believe it or not. I’m willing to give dating a try… if it makes I can date you.”

“Please don’t break my heart, Theo.”

“I won’t.”

“Can we finally drink coffee together without you running off?” Y/N questioned, which earned her a small chuckle from Theodore.

“I won’t run away this time, love. I promise.”

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