#and then to have it happen to someone close

[princesssmars]

better leave your man at home!

mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.

wc : 7.306

contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!

a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.

VIOLET ꨄ

ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.

ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.

ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.

ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?

ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.

ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.

ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.

ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.

ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.

ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.

ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.

ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.

ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.

ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.

ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.

ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.

ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”

SEVIKA ꨄ

ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.

ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.

ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.

ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.

ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.

ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.

ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.

ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.

ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.

ʚɞ she is so screwed.

ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.

ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.

ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.

ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.

ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.

ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-

ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.

ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.

ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.

ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.

ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”

ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)

ABBY ꨄ

ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.

ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?

ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.

ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.

ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.

ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.

ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.

ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.

ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-

ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.

ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.

ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.

ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.

ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.

ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.

ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.

ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.

ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.

ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.

ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.

ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.

ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.

ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.

ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.

ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.

ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.

ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.

ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.

ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.

ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”

ELLIE ꨄ

ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.

ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.

ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.

ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.

ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.

ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.

ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.

ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.

ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.

ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.

ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.

ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.

ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.

ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.

ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.

ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.

ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.

ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.

ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.

ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.

ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.

ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.

ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.

ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.

ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.

ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.

ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s

ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”

[myglittervoid]

I worked at my college bookstore. One day, someone came in and tried to return an overdue rented textbook. Even if I wanted to help them, the rental system was an entirely seperate system that I had no access to. Overdue books would pop up a thing on our screen telling us that the window for that return had closed. I explained to them and told them who they would need to contact and that they could try the buy back program.

They responded by throwing the book in my face and storming out. They had been charged almost $200 for this stupid book and I wanted to help them. But I couldn't, so instead I had to deal with their violence.

I didn't even get to take five seconds to process it because I had to just go on and help the next customer. When I told my boss, she said that it happens all the time and I would get used to it. And I did get used to it. Nobody was calling the police to protect me. Nobody was being arrested. And I wouldn't have wanted them to.

We were both being fucked by the same system, just in different ways. And I was the face they hired to stand there and accept the abuse the system caused.

I was making $12/hr to have candy, books, and stationary thrown at me. I didn't make the rules. But when those rules impacted others, I was expected to accept all responsibility for that persons discomfort and anger. $12 to be called a cunt everyday.

I think there's something to be said that saying the words "Deny, Defend, Depose, you're next" to an insurance sales rep can get you arrested for 'threats of mass homicide' or whatever with a threat of 15 years in prison

But when I was a manager in a fast food restaurant I've had customers throw food at me, demand for my personal phone number with an added threat of "Well I'll just have to FIND it", customers charging past the front counter to physically intimidate me and my coworkers, screaming and swearing, demands to know what time I get out of work, demands to know when my manager would be at work as a threat, people sitting in their car waiting for me to finish closing because they were angry at me, causing me to stay in the office watching the camera waiting for them to drive away...

But none of those incidents are arrest-able offenses, not one, any time I called the cops on any customer I would just hear excuses like " "there isn't anything illegal about calling a restaurant", that nothing physical happened and therefore there's nothing they could do, to call back and let them know if anything else happens

Idk, just think it's A TEENY TINY BIT ODD

Cop in the news goes "words have consequences" as if people don't berate and threaten fast food and retail workers every day

[cherryblossom-heart]

Responsibilities (6.5/?)

bestfriend!Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

Content warning: ANGST, Toji Fushiguro is his own warning, Kento having something with an unknown female character.

A/N: I am soooo sorry for this angst but is necesary so we understand everything that happened at the party. Don't worry, part 7 will be fully smau and its coming soon. If this is the first you see of this series please go to the previous parts to catch on. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. Also if I missed anyone in the taglist let me know 😊

Word count: 3.2 K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

“Shot, shot, shot.”

A small smile spread across Kento’s lips, his eyes focused on your display. Glass after glass, you emptied all six of them in front of you with a grin on your face. The small group of people that surrounded you cheered, the echo of their acclamations competing with the bass of the tacky house party playlist Gojo had put on.

Nanami stayed by the sidelines as always, never a fan of crowds or even reunions like this one. But every rule has an exception and to Nanami’s life you were the exception for everything.

He hadn’t noticed when it had begun. Maybe it had been when you were kids, your hand covered in dirt touching his clean and polished one to drag him out to play with the other kids. Or in your teenage years, your fingers entwined with his as you dragged him to another house party he hadn’t intended to go. Perhaps it was in college when he let you sleep at his place when you had been assigned a roommate from hell and every now and then you would end up falling asleep on his shoulder as you tried to finish whatever assignments you had.

The truth was, no matter how much he tried to explain it, there wasn’t an exact logic to his actions. He hated parties but he enjoyed going with you, your carefree dancing always igniting something deep in his chest. He hated loud music, but he loved the way your eyes would close as you sang to the top of your lungs as he drove you around.

He hated immature personalities, Gojo’s antics only being tolerable for minutes. And yet he found himself amused by your quips and shenanigans you would drag him along with, his heart beating out of his chest as the mischievous grin you wore tore his defenses away.

Nanami couldn’t say when everything had begun, but he knew exactly when he first noticed it. The harsh, undeserving words that had drifted you apart for weeks had been enough of a wakeup call, the pain in his chest had left him in a panic at the moment. Once you had given him a second chance his lungs could finally take a deep breath, free from the strange constriction your apathy gave him.

He had tried getting you out of his head to the point he had downloaded a few dating apps hoping he could find someone else to occupy his thoughts. The second he had matched with someone his fingers quickly deleted the app leaving him with the realization he tried to avoid.

He was in love.

No, it was more than that. Your name was carved in his heart, his soul belonging to the set of bright eyes that laughed at his dry humor as if he was the funniest man on earth. It belonged to the smile that would always welcome him whenever he entered a room or the soft fingers that would run through his hair as his head laid on top of your lap

Nanami had never been a man to believe in soulmates, but if fate would have it and they turned out to be true he believed you were his. And not even then he could explain the extent of his emotions, the crushing weight of his love for you could simply not be measured.

Loving your best friends carried its consequences as Nanami would find out sooner than later.

Green eyes and a scar had become an instant sign of anger for him. The broad, tall, muscular man always carried his characteristic smirk, a trait that also bothered Kento to his bones. But perhaps the thing that he hated the most was the way his hands would wander along your body, fingers always finding a patch of uncovered skin where he could trace senseless figures. Your lack of a negative reaction was enough to tick him off.

He saw it the night he had ended up intoxicated and crashing at your place, the almost too insignificant glint in your eyes as you looked at the blacked haired man. Your smile was almost as bright as the one you always wore when you talked to him.

Kento hated the pit that formed in the bottom of his stomach every time you would mention him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Beautiful, Kento’s mind recited as his eyes met yours

Your breath was raggedy, beads of sweat trailing down your cheeks. Your makeup was no longer intact, a couple of smudges trailed down your eyes, mascara specs darkening your eyes. The lipstick shade you wore was almost gone, a faint tone left behind.

“Keep your penny, it’s nothing too interesting.” Nanami’s answer came as you scooted over next to him, his right arm surrounding your frame.

“I highly doubt that. Everything about you is interesting, Nanamin.”

Kento’s breath got kicked out of his lungs. How was it possible for you to make him feel this way without even trying?

Were you aware of the effect your words, your soft touch, your sweet glances had on him?

Were you aware of his love for you?

“I believe I owe you a dance.” You extended your hand gesturing for him to take it.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me as many as I want.” Kento said, fingers entwining with yours.

You smiled, a bright beautiful smile that made his world stop.

“Well, let me start paying my debts.”

Minutes later Kento found himself in the middle of Gojo’s house, surrounded by the same crowd he had been trying to avoid as he held your body against his. You had guided him through the crowd of people, several of them stopping you along the way to congratulate you on your birthday. You would acknowledge them, perhaps exchanging a couple of words with them along the way, but your attention remained on him, your hand squeezing his every now and then to make sure he was alright.

Your hips moved to the rhythm of the music, the tune belonging to a song he hadn’t heard before, your arms were up in the air, fingers dancing along the air as if somehow you were making the most beautiful painting with them. Watching you dance was like staring at a work of art, every little movement you made was a sight to be seen.

Nanami’s body wasn’t sure how to move, his feet didn’t seem to want to follow the beat of the music, his arms felt uncomfortable as he tried to move them around. His body had begun to tense up the more he analyzed his own movements. You must’ve noticed it as well as you had stopped your movements only to get closer to him, your hand finding his again.

Cold fingeres reached to caress his face, carefully putting back in place a strand of his hair out of place. With a tenderness so foreign to him yet so familiar when it came to you, your hand cupped his cheek.

You looked at him and suddenly everything was alright.

“Relax, Kento. Just grab my hand and follow the music.”

Nanami’s left hand held onto yours while the right one fell on your waist, pushing you against his chest. If someone else would’ve seen, you two it wouldn’t have made sense to them. You two weren’t following the music, your pace not even close to what the rest of the people around were dancing to. Yet it didn’t matter, it was as if a bubble had appeared, separating you from the rest. Kento and you were following music that no one else around could hear, your head falling to his chest as the song changed.

For a moment, Nanami felt braver than ever. Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment what fueled him as he was convinced you had never looked at someone else the way you looked at him. Or maybe it was the fact that, as he pushed you closer to him, the more you seemed to nestle on his chest having caught you smelling his favorite cologne that you had gifted him.

Whatever it was, it made Kento brave enough to make you look at him. The hand that held onto yours lifted your chin, his touch leaving goose bumps on your skin. He stared into your eyes, for the first time not being shy of appreciating your beauty. Your eyes held galaxies of thoughts and emotions, and he was more than happy to explore all of them.

“Thank you for this, Ken.”

Ken.

A nickname he hated but he loved the rare times you’d say it.

He wanted you to say it forever.

“Don’t thank me, it’s the least you deserve.”

Your arms surrounded his neck.

“Be careful, Ken or I might start thinking you like me.”

Your name left his lips in a whisper, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. He was surprised when he found you doing the same, your eyes lingering longer on his lips.

“Kento…” you whispered, inches away from his lips. “I— “

“Happy birthday, party girl!”

Gojo’s words rumbled across the room, bringing attention to you. Nanami’s hands fell to his side as you jumped away from him looking like a deer caught in headlights. Satoru made his way to you along with Shoko and a cake he wasn’t sure was enough for everyone in the room.

Nanami made a mental note on researching what the easiest way was to get rid of a 6’3 body.

The crowd pushed you away from him, guiding you to the table where Satoru had placed the cake. You tried talking to them, your eyes searching for his in the sea of people. When you finally found him, Nanami just gave you a small smile and a nod, gesturing you to enjoy your celebration.

You mouthed a small “I’m sorry” to him as you turned your attention to the cake.

Kento let out a sigh as he made his way back to the kitchen bar, leaning against it. A gigantic sparkling candle decorated the middle of the cake making your eyes open wide in surprise. The tune of Happy Birthday started playing, everyone around joining in the celebration making you cover your face in embarrassment.

Adorable.

“How long have you been in love with her?” A deep voice asked next to him.

Kento looked at the green-eyed man that had silently slithered his way next to him.  Fushiguro carried a solo red cup in his hand, his face still carrying that same awful smirk that irked Kento. Toji’s eyes were focused on you, but Nanami could tell his attention was on him, expecting a response.

“I– “

“Don’t try to lie, it’s written all over your face.”

Kento sighed, he was right. There was no point in lying, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to him. Not before he could tell you.

“It’s none of your business.”

Fushiguro laughed as he took another sip from his drink

“It is when you’re trying to get with my girl.”

The flames of anger began rising in Kento’s chest, a bitter taste settling in the back of his tongue.

“I believe she isn’t aware she is ‘your girl’.” He quipped. “I don’t think she wants the title, or else she wouldn’t keep insisting your relationship is casual.”

Toji’s grip tightened around his cup, the sides of it cracking slightly at the pressure. Now it was Nanami’s turn to sport that idiotic smirk.

“Well, you certainly got me there.” Fushiguro conceded. “But it has to hurt still, doesn’t it?”

“You– “

“I mean, you guys have known each other for how long? Over fifteen years and nothing has ever happened. Not a single kiss, nothing even close. I’ve known her for less than two months and I’ve already fucked her all over her apartment.”

Nanami could count with a single hand the number of times he had restored to violence; the last time he had gotten into a petty fistfight being when he was still in high school. Afterwards he would compose himself and regret his actions, embarrassed of such a public display of his anger.

None of those times Nanami had ever felt such rage, the only thing holding him back being your birthday celebration. As much as he hated the man, he would hate it even more to ruin the night for you.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut about her private life.”

Toji snorted. “What? You’re going to play the “best friend” role again? Come in your white horse and defend her honor? Try to woo her with your gifts and hope she fucks you?”

“Better than playing the role of a man with two kids who can’t seem to find a stable relationship at his age or keep himself out of jail. Are you trying to get her to play the stepmother role as well?”

“Well, it seems that’s what gets her going, isn’t it?”

Finally, the two men faced each other, both scrutinizing each other under their gaze. Kento knew as much anger as he held inside, he could see his feelings reflected on the other man. He couldn’t blame him, any man would be lucky to get your attention, let alone a man like him.

The crowd cheering drifted away the men’s attention, your wide smile as you blew out the candles reminded Kento the reason why he was there, the flames of anger beginning to dwell as the warmth of his chest expanded through his body. He had already wasted enough time with Fushiguro.

“I don’t intend to ‘steal your girl’ Fushiguro, I cannot steal something that isn’t yours to own. She’s grown enough to know what she wants and that’s not for us to decide. Whether it is you or whoever else she is with I will always respect her choices.” Kento looked back at the man next to him, his eyes darkening with his last words. “But I will tell you that if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your stay at prison will feel like a spa visit, do I make myself clear?”

A moment went by without an answer and Kento thought the conversation was over, but as it is with a man with Toji’s personality, he always had to have the last word.

“Understood, boss.” He crashed his cup in his hands, throwing it away in the can behind the kitchen bar. “You know, I asked her once if anything had happened between you two. I mean, I had to make sure you weren’t an ex or something, especially with all the gifts and how close you guys are. You know what she said?” Kento didn’t give an answer, knowing well he was going to talk anyways. “She laughed. You should’ve seen her, it was as if I had asked the funniest question ever. I swear I saw tears in her eyes.” He chuckled. “She said there wasn’t and there never would be anything between you. That you were like the brother she didn’t have and dating you would almost feel incestuous.”

Toji’s attention went back to you, as everyone started to clear off from you as they got a slice of cake. His hand brushed his hair in place as he passed in front of Kento. “I think you have more of a shot with her.” He nodded to a girl Nanami hadn’t noticed before, her gaze turning as his hazel eyes connected with hers. Toji patted him in the shoulder before he left, not before getting his last lick. “I’d take it if I were you champ, it’s not like she’s going to care if you sleep around with other people.”

The green-eyed man made his way to you, his hand falling to your hips as he brought you in for a kiss.

For the first time in his life, Nanami felt his heart breaking. The longer your kiss lasted the more he felt a wave of unknown emotions drowning him, tearing every part of his heart that you ignited.

Fushiguro might’ve been a bastard, but he was right. There was never a time you had looked at him in any other way other than a best friend, let alone a romantic partner. He was an idiot for thinking your words meant anything, that your flirting was anything more than friendly, as it was you had always been a flirtations person. He wasn’t especial.

In an attempt of self-preservation for what remained of his heart he took a shot of vodka, hoping the burn would be enough to make him forget for a little while. He looked around the room, looking for anything that could help him, an easy way of distracting. That’s when he saw her again, the unknown girl he had never seen before.

Nanami didn’t remember how he had gotten himself in a bedroom in Gojo’s house, or when he had taken his shirt off as a girl whose name couldn’t even remember straddled him. He didn’t remember how her lips tasted or the tone of her voice as she had introduced herself to him. He couldn’t even remember the color of the girls’ eyes as she kissed him.

Her hands traveled along his body until they found his crotch making his head roll back. He allowed his hands to explore the girl’s body, slowing cupping her ass as she tried to undo his pants. This situation should’ve brought him some comfort, the sensations of every kiss, every touch should’ve been enough to help him in some capacity. Yet the only thing on his mind was you and the guilt building up in the back of his throat.

Everything about this felt wrong and he couldn’t explain why until he opened his eyes and the person in front of him wasn’t you.

Every time he kissed her, he pictured your lips, soft and delicate against his. Every time he touched her, he pictured your tender skin against his expecting the smell of your body wash to linger on his nose, instead a foreign scent invaded his nostrils. He expected to hear your voice with every pant of his name, but the unfamiliarity of the girl’s tone made his muscles tense up. This wasn’t what he wanted, he couldn’t fool himself into do it.

Then, the unthinkable happened—the very thing he had feared all along.

The light and commotion from the hallway caught his attention as he realized someone had opened the door. He pulled himself apart from the girl, moving his face to the side so he could see the uninvited guest. He only had a second to react before you shut the door with a slam, it’s echo filling the room.

He pushed her away, not caring for pleasantries as he scrambled to get his things together. He could hear the girls angry tone complaining, undoubtedly labeling him as an asshole. None of it mattered though. Not when he had seen the pain in your eyes as you saw the scene in front of you.

When he finally found his phone, he saw the plethora of messages you had sent him, all of them relating your trial until you finally found him. Before he could start typing, two new messages popped up.

Oh

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Vile rose to his throat as he pleaded you to come back.

It’s ok Nanami, I’ll catch you later.

Have fun

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist

@ermbehindyou @totallygyomeiswife @ash4ree @lov3vivian @namjooningera @sleepykittyenergy @silllly-jokesterr @shigarika @7haze @lizzie3d2y @jaybirdluvr73 @sweetdreams-inumimi @anuncalledbridge @troyesivanfrl @lavenderdaydream97 @n4tr3ad5 @aldebrana @erintaro @deegausserr @animemensblog @tqd4455 @jellyfishlord123

[sidekick-hero]

A Leash, a Van, and a Christmas Plan

steddie | rated teen | 3.7k | tags: Christmas fluff, Nurse Steve, meet-cute, Bear the dog | Read on AO3

Steve had always wanted a dog—ever since he could remember. As a kid, he would beg his parents endlessly, swearing up and down that he’d take care of it. He’d walk it, feed it, clean up after it.

Despite all his promises, a dog remained one of the few things he didn’t get as a child, right alongside the attention and affection he truly craved.

So, the moment he could afford his own flat, he knew exactly what to do. Together with his best friend Robin, he made his way to the local shelter in search of a furry companion. Robin, a self-proclaimed cat person, indulged him in this quest to fulfill his childhood dream.

They wandered the shelter for what felt like hours. Even Robin started to joke that they should just take all the dogs home. Steve, however, found the decision nearly impossible. How could he pick just one? They all deserved to feel safe and loved.

Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Anyway, just as they were about to give up, they passed what looked like an empty kennel. A faint growl stopped Steve in his tracks. Curious, he stepped closer and found a small black bundle cowering in the far corner. The dog was young, terrified, and yet somehow still looked like it was ready to take on the entire world.

“Robin!” Steve called over his shoulder. His friend was busy fussing over a golden retriever a few kennels ahead. “Can you get someone from the staff?”

A week later, after passing all the background checks and paperwork, Steve brought Cerberus home.

The name wasn’t his idea. That credit went to Dustin, one of the kids who worked at the shelter. Dustin had taken one look at the little dog and declared that it would grow into a huge, black monster, making “Cerberus” the perfect name. Steve hated it—but he liked the kid enough to keep it.

Besides, they ended up calling him Bear anyway.

That had been three years ago. Since then, Bear had grown into the huge, black monster Dustin had predicted—well, minus the monster part. Unless, of course, you counted being a total cuddle monster.

Still, Bear was a big guy, and his size alone was enough to make most people wary. It didn’t help that he was fiercely protective of Steve, growling at anyone who dared to come too close. He always needed time to warm up to new people, but once you were accepted as part of his pack, you had a loyal friend for life.

Steve didn’t mind Bear’s intimidating presence, though. If anything, it made him feel safer. As a nurse at the local hospital, his unpredictable shifts meant late-night walks were a regular part of their routine. Bear’s size and low, rumbling growl made it easy for Steve to wander through quiet streets at night without a second thought.

It was on one of those walks—a bitterly cold December night, just two days before Christmas—that everything changed.

Months of working with Chrissy, his dog trainer, had paid off in more ways than one. Steve ended up with a kind-of-well-behaved-but-stubborn dog willing to (mostly) cooperate, and Robin got herself a girlfriend who was every bit as amazing as she deserved. Even if it meant that Steve would have to spend Christmas alone this year, while Robin took Chrissy home to her parents for the first time.

Usually, walking Bear was uneventful—a blessing, considering Steve, despite being fit and regularly working out at the hospital gym, was no match for 145 pounds of determined dog. Bear stayed close to Steve’s side, happy to keep watch, growling menacingly at any perceived threats but always trusting Steve to handle things.

That’s why Steve wasn’t gripping the leash as tightly as he should have been. His thoughts were far away, preoccupied with a little boy he’d been tending to—a boy stuck in the hospital over Christmas and heartbreakingly sad about it. Steve was busy planning ways to make the holiday festive for the kids in his ward when it happened: a sudden, sharp tug on the leash.

The leash slipped from his fingers before he could react.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking with shock and just a little more panic than he’d like. “Come!”

Bear, however, had other ideas. He bolted, disappearing into the dense trees at the edge of the park.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Steve swore as he took off after him, already regretting not listening to Robin when she suggested a cat. A cat, after all, wouldn’t have him tripping through brambles and stumbling over undergrowth, with only his runner’s light bouncing wildly to guide him.

Finding a black dog in the pitch-dark night was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Impossible.

“Bear!” Steve called again, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice further. “Come here, buddy!”

He stopped, straining to hear anything—a rustle, a bark, a clue—but all he got in return was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the distant hoot of an owl. The silence felt louder somehow, now that one of his senses was compromised.

The realization crept in slowly, chilling him even more than the night air: he was alone, in the dark, with his dog gone and no one else around.

His breath came in visible puffs, clouds of mist dissipating into the cold. A shiver ran through him, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was from the cold or the unsettling weight of his surroundings. The trees loomed, their shadows stretching longer than they should, and everything felt just a little off.

He was on the verge of giving up—tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, frustration mixing with fear—when a loud snap echoed through the stillness.

Steve flinched, his heart leaping into his throat.

Then, a deep, rumbling growl broke through the stillness, followed by a sharp bark.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, bolting toward the sound. More barks followed, their tone higher and lighter—not aggressive, but curious.

“Good boy,” a voice called out, shaky but trying for calm. “Or—uh—good girl? I don’t want to assume, man. Or… woman. Shit. Please don’t eat me?”

The voice sounded young, male and unmistakably terrified. Steve couldn’t blame him. Anyone would panic if they were cornered by 145 pounds of black fur and sharp teeth.

Forcing his legs to move faster and silently praying he wouldn’t trip over a stray root or branch, Steve barreled toward the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest. Bear was obviously holding someone hostage, and Steve had no idea what he was about to find.

He burst through the trees and stumbled into a clearing. There, parked at the edge, was an old van—and standing on top of it was a man.

The guy had his hands raised in a desperate, placating gesture, his voice trembling as he pleaded with Steve’s dog.

“Easy, big guy. Good boy. Or girl. Seriously, no need for violence here—”

Steve couldn’t tell you why, but the whole thing was so absurd, so completely surreal. Bear, massive and proud, sitting at the base of the van like some four-legged guardian, and the poor guy perched on the roof like he’d been treed by a bear. The adrenaline coursing through Steve’s veins, paired with the overwhelming relief that Bear was safe—and that no one appeared to be bleeding—hit him all at once.

Steve doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing in near hysteria.

Both Bear and the guy turned toward Steve’s laughter. Bear let out a low whuff, the canine equivalent of “Look what I found!” Meanwhile, the guy, clearly panicked, shouted at him.

“Run! There’s a wild beast—it’ll tear you apart if you don’t move! Hurry! I can try to distract it, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

Another wave of laughter threatened to bubble up, but Steve managed to swallow it down. The poor guy was terrified, and yet he was still trying to save Steve. It was kind of adorable, in a completely ridiculous way.

Instead of laughing more, Steve decided to end the guy’s suffering. He walked toward them, shaking his head.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” the guy yelled, eyes wide. “Don’t come closer! I—I don’t think I can stop it!”

Steve smiled up at him, though in the dim light—provided by the van’s headlights and his bouncing runner’s light—he doubted the guy could see it. He kept walking until he was right beside Bear, the dog’s massive head level with his waist.

Calmly, he reached down to scratch behind Bear’s ears and said, loud enough for the guy to hear, “What do you think you’re doing, huh? We talked about this. No running away, and definitely no hunting down poor, innocent people.”

Bear responded with another satisfied whuff, his tail wagging furiously despite the fact that he was still sitting.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” The voice from above sounded incredulous. “Are you some kind of dog whisperer or that your beast?”

Steve looked up at Bear’s hostage, and upon realizing that his runner’s light was blinding him, turned it off. He could still see well enough with the headlights casting a warm light close by after his eyes had adjusted. The first thing he noticed were the guy’s eyes. They were huge and almost black in the low light, sitting atop full lips on a pale face framed by dark curls. He was adorable and hot.

“Sorry,” Steve began, running a hand through his hair. “Not a dog whisperer, or this big guy wouldn’t have bolted the second I got distracted and loosened my grip on the leash. In my defense, though, he’s never done that before. You must smell pretty incredible for him to chase you all the way down here.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Steve wanted to slap himself. Once upon a time, he had game. Real game. But apparently, those days were long gone, and now he was reduced to this—word vomiting as soon as he came face-to-face with a hot guy.

The guy—whom Steve had silently dubbed Bambi because of those wide, enchanting doe eyes—blinked at him, utterly speechless. Steve dared to hope he was overwhelmed by Steve’s suave charm, but that hope was dashed by the guy’s next words.

“Are you for real? You’re telling me it’s my fault for smelling like dog food that your… your beast chased me down?”

Something about the incredulous tone, coupled with the faint tremor in his voice that betrayed more lingering embarrassment than true anger, lit a spark of mischief in Steve. He wanted to make the guy laugh, to banish the last traces of fear, and—let’s be honest—to see how those full lips would look wrapped around a smile.

“Not dog food, no,” Steve said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Bear here is a professionally trained drug detection dog. So he must’ve picked up something really interesting to go off the rails like that.”

It was meant as a joke—obviously, Bear was no such thing as a professionally trained anything. But at Steve’s words, Bambi’s eyes widened to cartoonish proportions. Before Steve could assure him he was kidding, the guy scrambled to climb down the other side of the van, his movements jerky with panic.

“Whoa, hey—wait!” Steve called out, stepping forward, but it was too late.

There was a sharp slip, followed by a dull thud and a pained groan.

Steve hurried toward the spot where Bambi had hit the ground with an alarming thud, but Bear was faster.

“Please make it quick, big guy. Haven’t I suffered enough already?” came a slightly wheezing voice, followed by another soft whuff.

When Steve rounded the corner of the van, he stopped dead in his tracks, the scene before him equal parts surreal and hilarious.

Bambi was sprawled on the ground, spread-eagled, his head tilted to one side. Bear sat beside him, their faces mere inches apart. Bear’s loose fur and skin hung comically, his head tilted in a way that screamed curiosity, as if he were silently asking, “What are you doing down there?”

Steve considered taking a picture. Robin and Chrissy would never believe this otherwise. But a low groan from Bambi snapped him out of it.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Steve asked, quickly crossing the remaining distance. He dropped to his knees on Bambi’s other side, mirroring Bear’s concerned expression as he leaned over him.

“This is hell,” Bambi muttered, his voice heavy with dramatic despair. “The hellhound Cerberus has chased me to my demise, and now Charon’s coming to ferry my soul to Tartarus.”

Steve blinked. Was this guy serious? A concussion seemed likely at this point. But it was hard to ignore the weird coincidence that Bambi knew Bear’s namesake.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Steve said, raking a hand through his hair. “It was just a joke—I didn’t think you’d believe me. Robin’s right. I’m hopeless.” He let out a frustrated groan. “I mean, who almost gets someone killed trying to make them laugh?”

To Steve’s surprise, a hand reached out and found his, squeezing it once.

“You wanted to make me laugh?” Bambi asked, his voice soft.

“That’s what you’re focusing on? Not the ‘almost got you killed’ part?” Steve sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. You looked so scared and embarrassed. I just wanted to see you smile. So I made a dumb joke… and ended up getting you hurt instead.”

Bambi—he needed to find out the guy’s name, Steve reminded himself—hummed softly, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “So, just to be clear: You’re not a cop, and he—” he gestured toward Bear, still sitting like this was all a casual hangout in the park—“is not a drug detection dog?”

Steve let out a rueful laugh, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as warmth crept up his cheeks. “Nope. Not a cop. Not a drug detection dog. Just a pediatric nurse with a terrible sense of humor and a dog who’s usually better behaved.”

Eddie’s tentative smile grew into something full and radiant, so dazzling that Steve momentarily lost track of everything else. It was the kind of smile that made you think cheesy things, like comparing it to the sunrise—hopeful and brilliant, warming something deep in Steve’s chest.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked, shaking himself back to reality. “I keep calling you Bambi in my head, and I’m pretty sure that’s not it.”

That did it. Eddie burst into surprised laughter, his head tipping back as his eyes crinkled at the corners, the sound bright and unrestrained. It sent a wave of smug satisfaction through Steve, though it didn’t last long. The laughter soon faded into a low groan, Eddie wincing as the movement jostled whatever injury he’d sustained.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve blurted, words tumbling out as his concern surged. “Are you okay? God, I didn’t mean—”

Eddie’s hand found Steve’s again, squeezing it firmly. “Shhh,” he soothed, his voice low and warm. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. I mean, your sense of humor might be the death of me, but what a way to go, huh?”

Steve barked a startled laugh at that, though it quickly gave way to a more serious tone. “I’d really prefer you don’t die on me,” he said, pausing deliberately for the guy to fill in the gap.

“Eddie,” came the soft reply.

Steve smiled, relief and something else he couldn’t quite name washing over him. “I’d rather you don’t die on me, Eddie.”

They were both smiling at each other, the night cold and silent around them, as if the world had paused just for this moment. And then, as if the universe wanted to underscore how surreal and cinematic everything felt, it started to snow.

Big, soft flakes drifted down, landing on Eddie’s long eyelashes and melting on his nose and cheeks. Eddie’s smile widened, his expression pure delight as he laughed softly, tilting his face up to the sky. Without hesitation, he stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes, his laughter bubbling up again at the absurdity of it.

In that instant, Steve felt very much like one of those snowflakes—falling, utterly and irrevocably.

“So, Nurse—” Eddie’s voice broke through the quiet, pulling Steve from his rose-tinted thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

Eddie grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his face. “I was being sneaky, trying to find out your name,” he explained, “while also asking for a little help here. As much as I’m enjoying the view, it’s getting kind of cold down here.” He shifted slightly, wincing before adding with a smirk, “I thought I’d be clever and ask Nurse Prince Charming—that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head since we cleared up the Charon situation—to help his patient off the ground.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. He couldn’t help but feel charmed by Eddie’s offbeat but endearing mannerisms. In all his life, he couldn’t remember meeting anyone quite like him—and they’d only known each other for a few minutes.

“It’s Steve,” he said finally, his smile lingering. “And I’d prefer to check you out real quick—” he paused, realizing how that sounded, and tried to recover, “—to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too badly before helping you up. That okay?”

Eddie’s grin turned sly. “Oh, darling, you can check me out as much as you want,” he replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Heat flooded Steve’s cheeks at the innuendo, even as he tried to stay professional. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, though he couldn’t deny that having an excuse to touch Eddie wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s nothing life-threatening if you can joke around like that,” Steve said, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Eddie snorted—a sound that shouldn’t have been cute but somehow was—while Steve carefully began to palpate his ribs.

“My uncle always said my last words would be a joke,” Eddie mused, wincing slightly as Steve pressed on a tender spot. “Probably after my big mouth got me into trouble.”

Steve chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light as he continued his examination. “Well, I’m not letting you test that theory tonight, so sit tight.”

Eddie’s ribs were bruised, and he’d probably be sore for a few days, but thankfully, there was no serious injury. Steve helped him up carefully, Bear trailing close, unusually subdued but steadfast. The dog stuck by their sides as Steve walked Eddie around the van to its rear. Following Eddie’s quiet instructions, Steve opened the door and helped him settle inside.

The interior was cramped but functional. A mattress with a thick sleeping bag was tucked in the back, surrounded by scattered clothes, empty bottles, a bong, a pizza box, and an acoustic guitar propped against the passenger seat. The van had the unmistakable feel of a makeshift home, and Steve’s heart sank.

Eddie caught him staring, and a nervous laugh bubbled out as he rushed to explain. “It’s not what it looks like... God, I can’t believe I just said that. Jeez—” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, grimacing from the strain. After a moment, he added, quieter, “I know it looks bad, okay? But it’s just for a few days. Until I get back on my feet. It’s fine. Just a hiccup.”

The words were defensive, but the shame lurking beneath them hit Steve like a punch to the gut. Eddie was trying to downplay it, but the tightness in his voice gave him away. Steve wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Bear whined softly, breaking the silence. The big dog nudged Eddie’s thigh with his muzzle, his soulful brown eyes a perfect mirror of Eddie’s own.

Eddie, who’d been so terrified of Bear earlier, now reached out instinctively, stroking the thick fur of his head and neck. His fingers found the sweet spot behind Bear’s ears, and the dog leaned into the touch, letting out a contented huff.

“You were planning to sleep here tonight?” Steve asked softly, the question heavy with concern.

Eddie didn’t look up. He just nodded, his hand still moving absently through Bear’s fur.

Steve cursed silently. The thought of Eddie spending the night in this van, in freezing temperatures, sent a chill down his spine. Even if he kept the engine running, the risks—carbon monoxide poisoning, frostbite, worse—were too high. Steve couldn’t stomach the idea.

“Come home with us,” he said, the words tumbling out before the thought had fully formed. He just knew he couldn’t leave Eddie here.

“What?” Eddie blinked, his hand pausing mid-stroke. Bear, displeased by the interruption, let out a soft, insistent whuff and nudged Eddie’s hand again.

Steve forced a smile, trying to sound casual. “Bear and I both want you to come home with us. I can bandage your ribs properly, and you can keep petting Bear. Clearly, he’s touch-starved and desperately needs some affection.”

Once again, Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Eddie raised an eyebrow, scanning his face carefully. "Oh, so Bear needs some affection, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating. “Look, are you coming or not? Because I’m not leaving until you agree, and I’ll have you know Bear can be very persuasive.”

At that, Bear whuffed again, his tail thumping lightly against the van floor, as if to second Steve’s statement.

Eddie’s lips twitched, and for a moment, Steve thought he might actually laugh. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really,” Steve admitted, his tone softening. “But seriously, Eddie. Let us take care of you. Just for tonight.”

Eddie hesitated, his gaze dropping to Bear, who was still gazing up at him with unrelenting devotion. Finally, he sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. But only because your dog’s giving me the eyes.”

Steve grinned, relief flooding through him. “Smart choice. Bear’s impossible to say no to.”

Bear, as if understanding, let out a low, approving bark.

As Eddie took the hand Steve offered, his fingers cold but steady, Steve felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the touch itself. It was the kind of warmth that came with hope—the quiet, surprising hope that maybe neither of them would have to spend Christmas alone this year.

[mmso-notlikethat]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3400 Ι Christmas fic Ι cw: unintentional self-harm

I might have some kind of fixation with writing them drunk but well... I love seeing them messy and pathetic sue me 😞

also on ao3

"Bar fights on Christmas Eve. Why is this a thing?" Hen muttered.

Eddie adjusted his gloves, surveying the scene. "Maybe Santa didn’t bring what they wanted."

Chimney chuckled. "Or someone sang ‘Last Christmas’ one too many times."

Buck stayed quiet, his mind already churning with a mix of irritation and exhaustion. As they approached, a police officer waved them over.

"This one’s yours... I think," the officer said, jerking his thumb toward someone sitting on the curb. Buck’s stomach sank as soon as he recognized the messy mop of dark hair.

"Tommy?" Buck’s voice came out in disbelief.

Hen tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Oh no.”

Tommy looked up, his face marked with a bruise along his cheekbone and a faint cut near his eyebrow. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp as if someone had spilled a drink on him. Despite all of this, he grinned widely. "Heyyyyy! Look who’s here! Evan! No Buck!! My favorite ex!"

Chimney blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. "Okay, Christmas just got interesting."

Buck groaned, already dreading whatever explanation was coming. "What happened?"

Tommy tried moving, the cuffs clinking as he gestured grandly. "Do you know how great you are, Evan? You’re like—like Santa, but with better arms!"

"Okay, he’s drunk," Eddie said, trying—and failing—to hide his amusement.

Hen smirked. "No kidding, detective."

The officer sighed. "Bar fight broke out. He didn’t throw any punches, but he got hit, refused medical attention, and wouldn’t leave when we asked. Kept insisting he was fine."

"I am fine," Tommy slurred, his voice betraying just how much he wasn’t. "They didn’t mean it. They were just… passionate about pool tables."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "They punched you in the face."

"And the ribs," Tommy added cheerfully. "But I didn’t hit back! Isn’t that the Christmas spirit?"

Chimney snorted, already enjoying this far more than he should. "You got sucker-punched, and your takeaway is holiday cheer?"

"Forgiveness is key, Howie," Tommy declared dramatically. He leaned back slightly, his cuffs clinking. "I’m basically a saint."

Hen crouched in front of him, tilting her head. "How much did you drink?"

Tommy squinted, holding up his fingers. "Two? Maybe four? Could be six. Math’s hard."

The officer crossed his arms, visibly irritated. "He was trying to mediate, but when things got heated, one of the guys turned on him. Said something about him 'looking smug'—whatever that means."

Tommy perked up. "I do look smug! It’s my default face."

"Congratulations," Buck muttered. "You got punched for your great personality."

Hen smirked. "To be fair, it’s a punchable face."

"Thanks, Hen. Love you too," Tommy shot back, swaying slightly. "But seriously, I didn’t even fight back. I just told them to calm down, and, bam, fist to the face. It was… educational."

Eddie crossed his arms. "You learned nothing."

"I learned not to stand too close to drunk strangers holding beer bottles," Tommy said wisely.

The officer announced. "Look, if you can take him off our hands, I’m willing to let him go. Just… keep him out of trouble."

Tommy perked up. "See? I’m very cooperative. Just ask—what’s your name again? Officer Friendly?"

Buck said shocked and unbelieving “Let him go? You said he didn’t even hit back! Why is he even cuffed?? Why didn’t you just let him leave?”

The officer shrugged. "He was being stubborn. Kept saying he was fine, didn’t need help, and that he was 'the spirit of Christmas.' You try reasoning with that."

Tommy nodded proudly. "I am the spirit of Christmas. Forgiveness, love, and mild head injuries."

Chimney shook his head, grinning. "Oh, this is gold. Someone should write this down."

Eddie crouched beside Tommy, examining his bruised face. "Doesn’t look like it’s broken, but you’ll need an ice pack.”

The officer muttered something under his breath while uncuffing him, and Eddie stood up to help Tommy stand.

"You’re lucky they didn’t haul you in," Eddie said, steadying him. "But seriously, you okay?"

Tommy waved a hand, swaying slightly. "Never better. Just a little… dented."

"Dented," Buck repeated, his jaw tightening as he noticed the way Tommy flinched when Eddie accidentally brushed his side. "We’re checking those ribs now.”

Tommy looked at him with an exaggerated pout. "Evan, you’re still bossy. I missed that."

Buck rolled his eyes, biting back the mix of worry and frustration bubbling inside him. "Let’s go."

Tommy suddenly leaned toward Buck, sniffing dramatically. "You smell good. Like cookies. Did you bake? You totally baked."

"Sit down, Tommy," Buck said, guiding him toward the ambulance. "And stop sniffing me."

"Can we keep him like this?" Hen asked. "He’s much more entertaining."

"Yeah, it’s like finding a unicorn," Eddie added. "Drunk, unfiltered Tommy. Never thought I’d see the day."

Once Tommy was helped into the ambulance, Buck followed close behind, his jaw tight with concern. Tommy sat on the gurney, looking dazed but still trying to joke.

"See? I’m fine. You’re overreacting. Classic Evan."

"Take your shirt off," Buck said, already pulling gloves on. "We need to check for bruising."

Tommy leaned back against the gurney, his grin widening lazily. "Oooh you are a medic now? If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could’ve just asked. No need for the whole Christmas emergency."

"Tommy, stop," Buck said, exasperated, his voice sharp with worry. "Just let me check."

Tommy shook his head, folding his arms defiantly. "Nope. Not letting you play doctor."

Hen stepped in, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. "Let the professionals handle this, Buck."

"I can handle it," Buck argued, his eyes fixed on Tommy. "He’s hurt."

Chimney appeared on Buck’s other side, smirking. "He’s always been stubborn. You’re not gonna win this one. Let us do our job."

Buck hesitated, his hands falling to his sides as Hen gently nudged him out of the way. She crouched in front of Tommy, her voice calm but commanding. "Alright, Tommy. You don’t get a choice. Shirt off, now."

Tommy sighed dramatically, wincing slightly as he pulled off his jacket and shirt. Underneath, dark bruises were spreading across his ribs and a faint red mark lingered along his shoulder.

Hen frowned. "That looks nasty. You’re definitely going to the hospital."

"It’s just a bruise," Tommy said with a wave of his hand. "Tough guy stuff, you know."

Chimney raised an eyebrow. "Tough guys don’t take punches like that without flinching. Which you did, by the way."

"That’s because I’m cool under pressure," Tommy said with exaggerated flair.

Buck, standing nearby, crossed his arms tightly, his jaw set. "Cool under pressure doesn’t mean you don’t need help. You’re going to the hospital, Tommy."

Tommy tilted his head toward Buck, his smile turning genuine.

Buck didn’t wait for him to speak, his eyes flicking to the bruises before meeting Tommy’s gaze. "Let’s just get you taken care of."

Hen cleared her throat. "Alright, playtime’s over. Chim, get the monitor. We’re not taking chances with those ribs."

Tommy slumped back against the gurney, his grin faint but still there. "You guys really are like family. Dysfunctional, but family. Awesome."

As Hen and Chimney worked, Buck hovered nearby, his concern palpable. Tommy—even drunk—noticed, his voice softening. "Hey, Evan. I’m okay."

"You don’t look okay," Buck said, his voice clipped.

"But I will be," Tommy murmured. "Thanks… to you and all of you."

The ambulance hummed quietly as it crossed the dark streets, the faint sound of sirens cutting through the stillness. Buck sat on the bench across from Tommy, his eyes fixed on him as Hen drove and Chimney worked on notes up front. Tommy leaned back against the gurney, arms folded across his chest, his bruised face turned toward the ceiling.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Buck asked, breaking the silence.

Tommy tilted his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What? Didn’t the officer give you the play-by-play? It’s pretty simple, guy punches me, I forgive him, everyone moves on."

Buck’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I meant."

"Well, you gotta be more specific, Evan," Tommy said, the grin widening. "I’ve had a lot of adventures tonight. Bar fights, karaoke, getting arrested… It’s been a full Christmas Eve."

Buck leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I mean why you were even there. Why were you drinking alone? Why did you let someone hit you and just—wave it off?"

Tommy shrugged, his expression still light. "Maybe I was spreading Christmas cheer. You know, turn the other cheek and all that."

"Tommy," Buck said, his voice sharper now, "this isn’t funny."

"Neither are you, but we all have our flaws," Tommy quipped, winking. "Come on, lighten up. It’s Christmas."

Buck’s patience frayed. "You’re covered in bruises and sitting in an ambulance, and you’re joking. Why can’t you just be serious now for five minutes?"

The grin on Tommy’s face faltered, and he turned his head away, looking at the far wall of the ambulance. His voice, when it came, was quieter. "Because serious didn’t help."

The tension in the small space grew, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Buck exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to rein in his frustration. His eyes drifted to Tommy again, and that’s when he noticed it—his eyes, red and puffy, like he’d been crying before the fight.

"Tommy…" Buck started, his voice softer. "Have you been—"

"Don’t," Tommy interrupted, his tone flat. "Just… don’t."

Buck fell silent, studying him closer. The faint hollows beneath Tommy’s cheekbones were more pronounced than he remembered, and the way his jacket hung slightly looser over his frame caught his attention. He wasn’t skinny, but he was leaner—more muscular, yes, but not in a healthy way. It looked like someone who’d been skipping meals and pushing too hard.

"You’re not eating enough," Buck said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Tommy glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Didn’t realize you were also a nutritionist now."

Buck’s concern only deepened. "You’re overworking yourself. You’ve always done that, but this—this is different."

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and he looked away again, his voice barely audible. "I’m fine, Evan."

"No, you’re not," Buck shot back, but Tommy didn’t respond. He stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the window as the city lights blurred by.

After a long stretch of silence, Tommy murmured so quietly that Buck almost missed it. "I HATE Christmas. Stupid captain—‘You are taking Christmas off, Kinard.’ Stupid, stupid."

Buck glanced at him, startled by the soft admission. Tommy’s head lolled slightly to the side, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, but the slurred bitterness in his tone cut through the haze of drunkenness.

“Stupid Christmas. Stupid captain made me take it off. What else was I supposed to do?”

"Tommy…" Buck started, but Tommy didn’t look at him. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible and leaned back against the gurney, his expression shutting down entirely.

The ambulance fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the engine. Buck leaned back against the bench, his hands gripping his knees as he tried to process what Tommy had said—or what he didn’t say. He wanted to push, to get answers, but the look on Tommy’s face—the shut-down, closed-off expression—stopped him. For now, at least.

…

The fluorescent lights in the hospital room buzzed as the doctor stood at the foot of Tommy’s bed, flipping through his chart. Tommy sat up slightly, one hand rubbing his forehead as he squinted at the doctor. He was more coherent now, though his eyes still held a hint of fatigue.

“Here’s what we’re looking at,” the doctor began. “Bruised cheek bone, two stitches on the cut above your eyebrow, bruised ribs, and—” he paused, giving Tommy a pointed look, “—a mild concussion. Turns out you did hit your head during the fight. But with how drunk you were, it wasn’t immediately obvious if it was the alcohol or a concussion causing your symptoms.”

Tommy groaned, leaning back against the pillows. “Great. So I’m a walking disaster. Is that what you’re saying?”

The doctor didn’t smile. “I’m saying we’re keeping you overnight for observation. It’s standard with head injuries, and given your condition—”

“I’m fine,” Tommy interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Look, thanks for the concern, but I don’t need to stay here. I just need some water, maybe a snack, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You have a concussion and bruised ribs. This isn’t up for debate.”

“Debate? Come on,” Tommy said, his voice edging on pleading. “I’ve had worse. I’m a firefighter, I know what I’m saying. Just let me go home, and I’ll sleep it off.”

“You’re staying,” Buck’s voice cut through the room before the doctor could respond.

Tommy turned his head sharply, his tired eyes narrowing. “Why are you even here?” he snapped. “Just go. You got me checked in, that’s enough. Thank you very much!”

Buck didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he took a step closer, the tension in his face eased, despite the frustration still lingering in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re staying the night. End of discussion.”

Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing as the motion aggravated his bruised ribs. “Unbelievable. You think you can just waltz in here and—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted again. “You need to rest. Stop arguing.”

For a moment, Tommy just stared at him, his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up the fight. He let out a frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. Whatever.”

Buck nodded once, then turned toward the door. “I’m going to tell everyone your state and that you’re staying the night.”

That stopped Tommy cold. “Everyone?” His voice was sharper now, his head snapping back toward Buck.

Buck paused, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Everyone who needs to know.”

…

When Buck came back Tommy was lying back against the pillows, his face slightly turned to one side. His breathing was slow but uneven, like he was trying to stay awake despite the pull of exhaustion. Buck sat in the chair beside the bed, scrolling through his phone, his leg bouncing slightly in nervous habit.

Minutes passed, the quiet of the hospital only broken by the occasional beep from the monitor. Tommy stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at Buck, who hadn’t noticed he was awake. Tommy’s gaze lingered on him, taking in the familiar slope of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow as he focused on his screen. Finally, Tommy sighed, his voice soft and scratchy.

“Another Christmas at the hospital. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Buck’s head snapped up, startled. “Uh, you woke up.”

Tommy smiled faintly, shifting slightly on the bed. “Yeah, happens sometimes.”

Buck leaned forward, tucking his phone away. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Should I call the doctor?”

Tommy shook his head and immediately regretted it, wincing as pain shot through his temple. “Ow. Nope. Definitely no head shaking.”

Buck stood quickly, his concern sharpening. “You okay? Want me to get someone?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, his voice sharp. He looked at Buck and gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for staying, though. Uh… sorry about your shift.”

Buck moved to stand beside the bed, waving it off casually. “Bobby gave me the rest off. I’ll cover another shift later. It’s fine.”

Tommy winced again as he shifted to sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, sorry… you know you didn’t have to.”

Buck’s expression relaxed, but there was a weight to his gaze as he looked down at Tommy. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, without warning, Buck reached out, his hand brushing gently against Tommy’s bruised cheek.

Tommy froze, startled by the touch. His instinct was to lean back, but instead, he found himself leaning into Buck’s palm, almost without thinking. “Uh, what…”

“Tommy... you’re hurt,” Buck said, his voice quiet and firm.

Tommy blinked at him, then let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Duh.”

Buck didn’t move his hand, his thumb grazing just below the cut near Tommy’s eyebrow. “No, Tommy,” he said, his voice heavier now. “You’re hurt.”

The words landed with a weight that seemed to knock the air out of the room. Tommy stared up at him, his expression unreadable, until his eyes began to glisten. He blinked rapidly, turning his face slightly to avoid Buck’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

“You’re not,” Buck said, lowering his hand but not stepping away. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to push the emotion back down. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

Buck pulled the chair closer and sat down his eyes drifted to the bruises shadowing Tommy’s cheek and the faint red line where the stitches had been placed, “You don’t always have to handle it alone, you know. You can… let someone in. Let me in.”

For a long moment, Tommy didn’t respond. Then he exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the pillow.

“I think I forgot how.” his voice quiet, almost fragile. It was the kind of admission that wasn’t meant to be heard aloud.

Buck’s chest tightened at the words. He gave a faint, sad smile. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

Tommy’s gaze flicked toward him, a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe hope, but definitely vulnerability. It wasn’t a side of Tommy Buck had seen often, and it wasn’t one Tommy would have willingly shown under normal circumstances. But here, under the dim hospital lights, stripped of his usual defenses, he couldn’t hide.

Tommy shifted slightly, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of the hospital blanket, where Buck's hand rested. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he muttered, his tone lighter now, though the exhaustion still lingered.

Buck let out a small laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

Tommy smirked faintly at that, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Buck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because you need someone to be.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

Buck’s response was immediate, no hesitation in it. “You do.”

For a moment, Tommy said nothing, his eyes drifting toward the window, where the faint glow of the city lights filtered through the blinds. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Buck straightened slightly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to be. I told you we’ll figure it out together.”

Tommy looked at him again, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, he nodded—just a small, almost imperceptible movement—and leaned his head back against the pillow once more.

Buck hesitated, then said quietly, “Uh… Merry Christmas…?”

The words seemed to break something loose in Tommy. He suddenly sat up, his movements sharp and panicked, a decision he regretted immediately. His face contorted in pain as he squeezed his eyes shut, a wince escaping his lips. “Shit,” he hissed, his hand instinctively clutching his side. “Shit, Evan, it’s Christmas!”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the outburst. “Tommy—”

“You should be with your family, not in a hospital!” Tommy’s voice cracked slightly, and his hands trembled as he rubbed at his face. His breathing hitched, and for a moment, it looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean to— You shouldn’t be— God, this is all—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted softly, standing and taking a step closer to the bed.

Tommy shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should be with your family. Or—hell, with the 118—they’re your family anyway.”

Buck sighed, ducking his head for a moment as he tried to steady himself. Then, with quiet determination, he moved closer, cupping Tommy’s face with both hands and gently forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Tommy,” he said firmly, his voice steady and filled with certainty. “Don’t you get it? I am exactly where I want to be.”

[hhbluedynamite]

...Oh, dear God...

Do I have some words to say to those people villainizing these characters...

First and foremost, I haven't seen much of Beastars (I think I've only seen the first four episodes), am barely involved in the Sonic franchise, never seen Homestuck, and don't watch...whatever show that lady is in (Doctor Who?), so I can't really say anything for the characters from those shows.

But as for the others...

Mabel: A...CHILD!!! Children are inherently selfish! It makes sense for her to act the way she does (and Dipper's the same way! He's selfish too!). She was also MANIPULATED BY A LITERAL DEMON to give him a very dangerous portal that she had no knowledge of its importance because such knowledge was withheld from her! But what about Dippy Fresh? She's basically replacing Dipper! Mabel didn't make Dippy Fresh! It was Mabelland! And she was also under its influence too! Mabel Pines was a literal child! You are villainizing a kid for being a kid who was scared of change and growing up (something I relate to, honestly)

Rose Quartz/PD: Oh boy...where to start. Before abandoning her old life, Rose was emotionally abused by the very Gems that were basically her sisters/mother! She was belittled, neglected, felt like she had no place there despite wanting to be a part of what was basically the family business. Did Rose make questionable decisions? Oh, yeah. Big time. But, does that make her a bad person? Hell, no. She's just flawed. Which is a very...human thing.

Beatrice: ...Really? People are villainizing her? Have they not played her route? She's frustrated that she's stuck in a small dying town, she lost her mom to cancer like two years before the main story, is basically getting sexually harassed by someone she can't fire, and her dad is kinda neglectful about her needs. I would be bitchy too!

Gangle: ...Are you fucking serious? We're villainizing someone whose dreams were freakin' crushed for being "unrealistic" and spent an entire episode going through mania? The woman whose Digital design is a representation of masking your actual emotions, including depression? And she was told that she was annoying and was better sad?! Who was so, damn close to Abstracting (which can be seen as a euphemism to suicide)??!!!

Did these characters do questionable acts or say things they shouldn't have said? Yes. Does it excuse their behavior? Not really. Does that make them villains? Hell, no. These are flawed characters, like everyone else!

...Sorry for the rant, to the readers and to the person who made this post. I've just seen this a lot with Mabel and Rose Quartz and it pisses me off...and I didn't know that it happened to Bea and now Gangle?!?!?

I have opinions about the recent gangle hate

[sanguineterrain]

holiday spirit | jason todd

Summary: Stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on Christmas Eve Eve, you’re at your wit’s end. The last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the Red Hood.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings/tags: panic attacks, reader has anxiety, creepy coworkers, office party shenanigans, canon-typical violence, jason being both a menace and a sweetheart, attempts at humor, fake relationship, silliness!

the divider

You’re grateful for a reason to escape. Someone announces that the lights on the obnoxious eleven-foot Christmas tree are burned out and you’re already on the elevator, volunteering to find spare lights. 

You hate these office parties. They’re just a way to play politics, show off fiancés, and reaffirm cliques. You wanted to skip it all together. But Mr. Emerson, your boss, had insisted that attending tonight’s party was mandatory.

Alma had told you about a hundred times to skip tonight, but Alma’s worked here since the Reagan administration and has too much pull to be fired. You, conversely, have been here eight months, and if you get fired, your next job is going to be as a henchman for a B-list Gotham villain. 

Being painfully ordinary and anxious is a toxic mix. Your doctor still thinks all your worrying is because of your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t believe in work-related stress.

So anyway. You’re just trying to get through tonight. And find some tree lights that work. 

You unlock the spare office where all the holiday junk is stored and turn on the light. 

The motherfucking Red Hood looks at you, one leg dangling outside of the window and one leg inside the office. He unclicks his harness. 

"Oh my God,” you say, hand frozen on the light switch.

Red Hood pulls his leg in from the window and steps into the office. He puts the harness in a duffel bag and roughly zips it, then tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

"Oh my God.”

He glances at you, helmet eyes glowing. "No God here, just me.”

"Oh my God," you say again, near hysterics. "Oh my God, Red Hood."

"Always nice to meet a fan," he says irritably, brushing snow off of his jacket, flashing his holsters. Oh, fuck. That's a lot of guns.

"What, um—" You close your eyes, lick your lips, try to find your sanity. "To what do I—why—are you gonna kill me?”

"The fuck? You think I'd sneak into an office and kill someone in cold blood? What kinda operation you think I'm running?"

Your mouth opens and closes in horror. "Wh–I... I don't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Hood."

"Please, Mr. Hood was my father."

He laughs. You taste bile in your throat. 

Hood sobers. "Damn. Tough crowd. Look, sorry to freak you out, but I got shit to do. If you'll just point me to Hershel Emerson's office, I'll be on my merry way."

"That's m-my boss. Are you gonna kill him?" You can’t handle murder tonight. You’ll have a breakdown for sure. 

"Literally, what did I just say?" Hood throws his hands up. "Not one minute ago. I'm not killing anyone!"

"Yet?" you ask weakly, mind inundated with too many mob movies to watch your manners. You know what the Red Hood is all about. Everyone does. 

"No. I'm not killing Emerson. But he is a bad dude, so I gotta take care of business. Actually, I should kill him. He deserves it."

You squeak in horror. He raises a hand.

"But I'm not!" he says gruffly. "Respectfully, get a grip. You live in Gotham."

You swallow. "What're you gonna do to my boss if not kill him?"

Hood shrugs. "Eh, maybe scare him a bit. Mostly get intel to take him down. He's currently sitting on five million dollars of stolen life savings from clients."

You blink. "What?"

"Yup. What I really wanna know is which of his employees are in on it. He didn't do this alone."

Hood takes out a small roll-up pouch of what looks like lockpicking tools. You release your sweaty death grip on the doorknob, causing it to squeak. Hood doesn't look up.

five million dollars is ringing in your head. That happened here. Where you work. Your boss is even scummier than you thought.

“Is that a lockpicking kit?” you ask.

“Yup. Good eye.”

"This seems... illegal.”

"Well, I won't lie to you, most of what I do is. You won't be implicated though.”

He looks at you. You flinch. Even with the lights on, the Red Hood is scary as shit. 

"Yeah..." he says, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t do well in prison. I can tell."

Your chest hurts. "I don't think anyone does well in prison," you say, eyebrows scrunching. "Have... you been to prison?"

"Only to break out a friend. You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry. Um, Mr. Red Hood—"

"Ah-ah. Call me Red. Or Hood. No Mister-ing."

"Okay.” You lick your lips, hoping he doesn't go back on his temporary no-kill policy. “Hood, do you think you could come later? After the Christmas party?”

He tilts his head at you. You keep talking. 

“Not that I don't admire what you're doing! Because I think taking down my boss for stealing money is great, eat the rich and all that, but, um, I came up here to get lights to replace the ones that burned out downstairs because that's a normal thing that happens and now you're here, at my job, and I'm freaking out. Oh God, oh my God—”

You grab the wall for stability, feeling like you've been rocking on a boat for hours. Sweat beads on your forehead. This time, you really do feel like you’ll throw up. Throwing up in front of the Red Hood would be humiliating. 

“Look, I got shit to do, okay? I'm sorry you're freaking out but your boss is gonna cash out in a few days and then I lose him and that five million. It's now or never."

You should've just stayed home and baked cookies. Fuck being social! This is what happens when you're social: you meet morally gray vigilantes who force you to be complicit with their crimes.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying? Maybe it’s sweat. 

Hood points to the hallway. "Is there a camera outside?"

"Y-yeah.” Your voice is weak. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you call security on your way out?"

“Does your left arm hurt?”

“No, but—”

“Are your limbs stiffening?”

“No, but—”

“You’re not having a heart attack. Your speech is fine.”

Hood takes out a few more things from the duffel, then kicks it under a desk with his foot. You wheeze and grab onto the doorknob again. 

It’s quiet for a second. Then— 

“Shit. You're having a panic attack,” Hood says.

"Mm, probably," you say, hunched over like an armadillo. Fuck your stupid doctor. 

There's silence as you wheeze quietly. Then something small hits your head. You flinch and squeal.

"You don't need to throw things at me!" you say, beyond defeated, near tears.

"No, I wasn't—sorry. It's a Warhead. I have one when I'm feeling… not my best. They're s’posed to help occupy your other senses so the panic disappears."

You stare at the candy, confused and suspicious at once. "Is it spiked?"

"Again, what sorta operation do you think I'm running? It's not drugs. Look." Hood unwraps a Warhead and sticks it in his mouth underneath his helmet. You hear him suck on it. "Eesh, that's sour. Okay? No drugs."

So you take the candy from the floor, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. The sour taste immediately overwhelms you. It's like your brain resets. You pant through the sour.

"Ough," you say, face scrunching from the taste.

"Yeah, right? Life changing hack."

You suck on the candy desperately and close your eyes, trying to find your breath. 

“It’s okay,” Hood says, stilted and awkward. “Just, uh, focus on your breathing. Exhale longer than you inhale. Breathe through your nose.”

It takes another few minutes, but the feeling passes. Your chest lightens. It’s the quickest you’ve ever recovered from a panic attack. 

“I was just kidding about the prison thing,” Hood says. “You’re not gonna go to jail ‘cause of this, I promise.”

Yeah, but what if you lose your job?

You spit the Warhead into a trash can and smack your tongue a bit. “Are you sure you can’t come back tomorrow night?”

“No can do,” Hood says. “Your boss will be gone by then.”

“It's just that I'm really bad with keeping secrets and according to Google, that's how ulcers form and I really can't afford any sick days off, so—"

You yelp as the door suddenly swings open, hitting your shoulder. You spin around.

"Hey," Bill says, squinting at you. "Where have you been?”

"No!" you yell, and turn off the light. 

Bill stares at you, illuminated by the hallway light. “Uh…”

You clear your throat. "Ahem. I'm fine. It's just taking me a moment to sift through all these decorations. Please return to the party.”

You hate Bill. He’s a sleaze and doesn’t do any work. More than once, he’s trapped you by the water cooler in a conversation about his “smokin’” imaginary lawyer girlfriend.

“If you wanted me to come help you, you could've just said so," he says, reaching for the light, way too close. You don’t like his tone either.

"No!" you yell, blocking the light switch with your hands.

"What the hell? Why not?"

"Because—"

There's a creak from the back. You wince. 

Bill immediately whips his head toward the sound. "Is someone here? Hello?"

He reaches for the light. Again, you block him, swatting his hands away.

"Would you stop—is someone here?"

"My boyfriend!" you blurt.

Bill stops, looking at you. "Your boyfriend? You've never mentioned a boyfriend."

"Well, I have one and he's here."

"Okay. Why can't I turn on the light and see him?"

"Because he's... um..."

You spot the red Santa suit out of the corner of your eye. 

Oh, this is a terrible idea.

"He's changing! He's our Santa for the party. Surprise!" You make weak jazz hands.

Bill looks into the dark where you're pretty sure Hood is hiding. You hope, anyway. Otherwise Bill is going to tell everyone that you're making up boyfriends. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," comes Hood's unmodulated, deadpan reply, and you jump. "Don't turn on the light. I'm naked."

"Oh..." Bill looks queasy for a moment. "Uh—" He looks at you and suddenly grins. "Oh, I get it. You two were having fun before going to the party, huh? Didn't know you were such a wildcat."

"That’s disgusting,” you say. “I would never do that in the office.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows. "Me-ow. Does the Santa thing turn you on?"

"I'm right here, Bill, and naked or not, I'll kick your ass," Hood says.

Bill pales and quickly backs out of the room. "Right. Sorry. Uh, carry on."

He closes the door. You push your back against it and exhale, heart racing.

"Bill is a shithead," Hood says. 

“How… do you know his name?”

“Employee background check,” Hood says mildly. 

"Oh… yeah, he's been written up a bunch of times for inappropriate behavior, but he's close with Emerson, so he never gets fired."

"Want me to kill him for you? Free of charge."

"What? No! Hood—"

"Oh, relax. I was kidding."

"Uh-huh." You turn on the light. Hood has his helmet on, and his voice is modulated again. "What're we gonna do?"

"Well, I'm gonna go make sure Hershel doesn’t fuck off to Bermuda. The lights you wanted are here, by the way."

Hood tosses you a box of multi-colored tree lights. Then he walks toward you. You plaster yourself across the door.

"Wait! You can't leave. I said that my boyfriend is going to be Santa. Bill will tell everyone. They’ll expect you.”

"I appreciate your quick thinking, but that's a hard pass,” Hood says.

"You can't leave now! Bill's gonna tell everyone I'm a liar and they'll think I was up to something worse in here, like snorting coke."

"I mean this gently: I think you should look into anti-anxiety meds. My brother swears by Xanax.”

“My doctor won’t prescribe it to me,” you say glumly. “He thinks my anxiety is made up.”

“Huh. Want me to kill him? I know a better doctor.”

"Well…” You hesitate, then shake your head. “No! No. Hood, please. They’re all gonna expect a Santa. And when I don’t show up with Santa, they’ll remember that I didn’t participate in White Elephant or any of that other office nonsense that I don’t want to waste my money on. I need this job!”

“They’re not gonna fire you for not doing White Elephant,” Hood says. 

“You don’t know them! It’s a popularity contest.”

But Hood is indeed disinterested in the fact that you'll be the office pariah. Probably because he’s never worked in an office. 

Instead, he ushers you aside without a struggle. Then he turns the doorknob.

"Wait! Wait, listen. If you dress as Santa, you'll have access to the party and offices. You won't have to sneak around. And people get really drunk at these. They'll talk. You can figure out who's helping Emerson steal money."

His hand pauses. He looks at you. You look back, wringing your hands.

"You're pretty crafty," he says. 

"...Thanks?”

Hood releases the doorknob. "Alright, fine. I'll do the Santa shtick.”

“You will?”

He tilts his head. “Should I not?”

“No! No, you should. It’ll be a good disguise.”

He hums. “Sure. But we're in this together now, got it? You blow my cover and we both go down."

"Y-yeah, got it."

Hood heaves a gusty sigh. "Next time, I'm sending Roy in to do this shit."

"Who's Roy?"

"Ah." He holds up a finger. "Too many questions."

He makes a beeline for the Santa costume and then looks at you expectantly.

"Yo. Boyfriend or not, you're not watching me change. Guard the door, Mrs. Claus."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

You turn off the light and go into the hall, shutting the door behind you. It's empty, luckily. You rap your fingers on the box of lights, leg jiggling. 

This is insane. You should just tell Hood you can't do this and let him figure out his own plan.

But then... this would make it easier to find Emerson's crime partner. And you're really sick of Bill being a jerk. You don’t want to be called a liar, or get iced out for the rest of your time here because you didn’t bring Santa. Maybe having Hood be your Santa-boyfriend would make people leave you alone. Which is a crazy reason to stick to this plan, but still. You're trying to find the bright side.

And all those people that Emerson stole from... surely, you have a responsibility to help get their money back and bring him to justice, don't you?

The door swings open. You turn around.

“You wear a mask under your helmet?” 

“As a precaution.” He sounds defensive. “Lots of people in my profession do it.” 

You doubt that. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird if Santa has a mask on?” 

He hesitates, evidently debating between protecting his identity and arousing suspicion.

“Fine.” He carefully peels off the mask and tucks it into his pocket. The surrounding skin is slightly pink from irritation. His nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles. 

And wow. The Red Hood has beautiful eyes. So vibrant and clear, like seafoam. And young! How old is he, anyway? He doesn’t look much older than you, if at all. 

His eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and it makes sense, Hood being a brunet.

“What?” he snaps, glaring.

“Nice eyes,” you blurt.

His brows furrow. You remember the guns.

“Um, anyway. Should we go?” you squeak out, backing away.

Hood huffs through the beard. It flutters. "We need to have some ground rules."

"Okay."

"First, you should know that I will shoot if there's a physical threat at this party. Two, you're gonna call me Todd at the party. Three, if you try to tell anyone that I'm Red Hood or that I'm taking down Emerson, I will make your life hell. And if you're his partner, you'd better tell me now or I'm gonna be a lot less jolly."

"I'm not!" you say. "I would never do that. And I won't tell anyone you're Red Hood."

"Good. Let's go. Keep your ears open for hints about Emerson's partner."

He takes off in long strides. You hurry to keep up. The Santa costume doesn't slow him down.

"So how did you find out that Emerson's stealing?" you ask.

"Got a tip. You really didn't know he was stealing?"

“I don’t have access to the finances. I work in user interface. Website design.”

"Yeah? That's pretty cool. I got a brother who's into that stuff," Hood says.

"The same one who takes Xanax?”

“Would you believe it?”

You try to picture Red Hood with a regular family. With a brother or a sister or a father. It's hard to imagine.

“How come you don’t take anti-anxiety medication?” you ask. 

“I have Pit Madness Syndrome, and it has a weird chemical reaction with that stuff.”

“Oh.” Subject change. Quickly! "Do you celebrate Christmas?" 

"Not really. I'm not a believer or celebrator of much. You can see what my plans are two days before Christmas."

"Your family doesn't celebrate?"

Hood just grunts, eyes suddenly stormy. You take the hint and stop talking.

The room where the party is isn't particularly special. It's big enough to fit about a hundred people. For all the money the company makes, you'd thought that they could afford to splurge a little and rent an actual hall. Now you know what the profits have been going toward. But the decorations are decently lavish.

"Oh, wait." Hood leans in to speak in your ear. Lightning shoots down your spine. "I don't know your name."

You give it. He repeats it, and you shiver, like your boyfriend just said your name.

"'Kay. Stay in this room. We don't know how much Emerson or his partner knows, but assume they’re willing to do anything to get away with the money."

You nod. “Got it.”

“Hey, it’s Santa!” Bill shouts from across the room. “He made it!”

You smile tightly. “As promised.”

A few people wave. Others cheer. 

“These people really like Christmas, huh?” Hood asks.

“You have no idea,” you say, hyperaware of his hand brushing your back.

“Don’t think I got your name, man,” Bill says as he approaches. He sticks a hand out. “Bill.”

“Todd,” Hood says, taking his hand and shaking. Bill winces at the handshake. You hide a smile.

“Ah, Todd. Right.” Bill looks at you, trying to subtly soothe his hand. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

You shrug. “Never came up.”

“I’m pretty private,” Hood says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “But we’re very much in love. Ain’t that right, baby?”

“Th-that’s right… honey,” you say, face going hot.

“So what do you do for work?” Bill asks. “My girlfriend’s a lawyer.”

You roll your eyes. Hood snorts.

“There’s no way you’re dating anyone. You look like you got dressed in the dark, Billy.”

You cough your laugh into your arm. Bill’s eye twitches.

“Enjoy the party,” he says icily. He glares at you, then stomps away.

“That was amazing, but I think Bill might retaliate,” you say. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Hood says. “I’ll take care of it.”

You look at him with big eyes. “Hood—”

“Not like that. Just… it’ll be handled. Okay?”

You nod. Maybe it’s insane, but you trust him. “Okay. Want some punch?”

Hood hums. “No alcohol. Thanks.”

You go to the punch bowl, a little relieved to escape Hood’s piercing ocean-eyed stare. He’s intense. Whoever dates him for real is in for a ride. 

Then again, you can’t imagine Hood meeting someone for coffee or dinner. You giggle at the image of him showing up with his guns and helmet. 

“Hey, IT.” A woman in a white sweater you’ve seen maybe once waves at you. “Cool idea, bringing a Santa.”

“Yeah, Emerson’s too cheap to,” the man next to her says. They laugh.

You smile. “Glad you like it.”

You serve yourself two cups of the alcohol-free punch. Then you turn. 

Your smile falls. Across the room is Hood and Tanya Donaldson, resident shit-stirrer. She’s trying to cozy up to him. You sigh and walk over, bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” Hood says, practically dragging you into his side. He takes a cup of punch. “Just met Tanya.”

You can guess exactly how he feels about that.

"Oh, is he your boyfriend?" Tanya asks, eyeing Hood like he's a slab of steak. “I had no idea!”

"Uh-huh," you say. "This is Todd."

She wiggles her fingers, grinning. “So how often do you go to the gym, Todd?” She rests a hand on Hood's arm. "I didn't know Santa was so big and broad."

Your gaze drifts to where you're pretty sure Hood has a gun strapped to his ankle, and the temptation does appear, you won't deny.

But you need this job and it's going to be really hard to explain why Santa's armed and dangerous, so you just grit your teeth. Tanya's the worst for this kind of behavior and she doesn't respect you, so bringing your hunky boyfriend is like dangling a bunch of carrots in her face. 

And it’s not like Todd is actually your boyfriend. 

"Are you flirting with me in front of my girlfriend?" Hood asks, prying her hand off of his arm.

"Flirting?" She claps a hand over her mouth, the movement slightly delayed from all the wine. "No, oh my God! I was just saying—"

"That's really pathetic," Hood says. "Don't do that."

He walks away and you follow, leaving a wobbly Tanya on her own. You smile to yourself.

"Thank you for that," you say.

Hood gives you a thumbs up. "I can plant evidence on her and get her fired if you want."

"No, I don't want to feel damned for eternity. Thanks anyway."

"You have a lot of assholes at your job," Hood says. "But you're not one. I admire that.”

You sigh. "They're not all bad. Alma is cool. She keeps me from quitting.”

"And where is she?"

"At home. She's a sixty-two year old accountant who doesn't care about these parties. Her hip aches when it's cold."

"Mm. Maybe you should follow her lead," Hood says.

"But then who would help you with your spycraft, Hood?"

He allows himself a tiny laugh at that. You wonder how often he laughs. If ever.

“Well, suffering Tanya wasn’t in vain. She said this whole party cost twenty grand.”

“So?”

He gestures grandly. “Does this look like it cost twenty grand to put this together?” 

It's true. The alcohol is the most expensive thing here. No food, except for some people that participated in the potluck, but you don't trust anybody's food here. The decorations are old. Not to mention the Red Hood as your Santa. Your boss might have spared a thousand for tonight. No more. 

“So where did all that money go?” you ask. 

Hood snaps his fingers. “Bingo.” 

“That is so shitty. I got a chocolate-covered pretzel as my Christmas bonus,” you say. 

“A bag of ‘em?” He shakes his head. “Pretty cheap.”

“Ha, no. No, I got one big pretzel. In a box. The box cost more than the pretzel, I think.”

His eyes widen. “Jesus. Even I give more than that to my guys.”

“Got any openings?” you ask, half-joking. 

Hood snorts. “Don't think you'd like what we do. Why d’you stay?” 

You shrug. “Nowhere else to go. I have to eat somehow.” 

“Crappy boss, crappy coworkers, no Christmas bonus. Hell, I feel sorry for ya.”

The Red Hood feels sorry for you. Perhaps you've reached a new low. 

He drinks the punch and coughs. “Ahem, wow. Did you make the punch?”

“No, some people mixed it here.”

“Oh, then I'll be honest. Tastes like a flavor that's not found in nature.” He throws his cup away. You trust him and set your still-full cup on a table.

“I won't even mention the potluck,” you say. 

“Yeesh. Can't eat at everyone's house.” 

“That's what I say!” 

He winks at you. You look away, flustered. 

The crazy thing is, you could get used to this. Well, not specifically Red Hood, but having a boyfriend to bring to these functions, who’ll warn you against gross punch and defend you against Tanya. 

And Hood is surprisingly good at this. If you forget the past hour, you can almost pretend that this is just another office party that you happen to be spending with your new boyfriend. 

"Hey, look! It's Santa! Dude, check me out with Santa!"

One of the finance guys who's very drunk—you want to say that his name is Matt—bounds up to you and Hood. Hood tenses, reaching for his hip (gun!) and you touch his elbow, reminding him to relax. He drops his arm. 

Matt reeks of alcohol, the front of his shirt stained with bourbon. He laughs, forehead shiny with sweat.

"Santaaa, hey, Saint Nick, take a pic with me, man!"

Matt throws his arms around Hood. Hood does not like that and shoves him off accordingly. But Matt doesn't seem to notice and holds up his phone, camera facing front. Hood slaps the phone out of his hand.

"No pictures," he says.

You wince. The guy stares and blinks, taking three to five business days to process what just happened.

"What the fuck, man? That was my phone!"

"Sorry. I'm drunk." Hood sighs like he's physically in pain, then leans back and makes drinking motions with his fingers. "Fuckin' wasted! Did you try those rum shots? Lit, dude!"

The guy cheers up, forgetting all about the phone. "Oh, yeah, for sure! I'm gonna go get one right now! Thanks, Santa!"

"You do that!" Hood says cheerily.

As soon as the guy leaves, Hood returns to his resting scary face.

"Wow," you say.

"I know. I threw up in my mouth a little."

You laugh. Hood grins. Then it fades.

"Damn it. We're getting no closer to finding Emerson's partner. I should just interrogate Emerson until he tells me."

Interrogate makes you feel woozy. You're pretty sure you know what Hood's idea of an interrogation is.

"Wait! We just need to lure them out. If they think their money might be in jeopardy, they'll sneak out of the party to go check on it, right?" you ask.

"Potentially, yes. But how do we lure 'em?"

"There's an alert if someone withdraws more than ten thousand dollars from the company. But I don't have access to the accounts," you say.

Hood smiles slowly. "You don't need it. Remember I mentioned my computer whiz brother?"

"Yeah…” You grimace. “This sounds illegal again.”

"Hell yeah it is. He owes me a favor too. Lemme call him."

You two go off to the side while Hood dials.

"Yeah?" comes a voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound at all like Hood, more like a one percenter from the Diamond District. This is Hood’s brother?

"Aliases only. I need you to withdraw fifty grand from Emerson Corp,” Hood says. 

"Why?”

“‘Cause you owe me a favor. Just do it.”

“Zombie breath.”

“Shortass,” Hood says, voice taking on a distinct older brother tone. 

“You’re such an asshole,” the voice says. He yawns. “B’s wondering if you’re coming tomorrow.”

“I’d rather die again,” Hood says. “And you can tell him I said that.”

“The broody emo bullshit is getting old, dude,” the voice says.

You giggle. Hood looks at you sharply. You press your lips together, properly chastened. Sorry, you mouth.

"Who's that?" the voice asks.

"No one," Hood says. "Did you do it?"

"Chill out. I'm getting past their firewall. So who is that?”

“It’s the TV,” Hood says.

“No, it’s not. That was a lady's laugh, IRL. And you wouldn’t lie if it was someone we know…”

“Mind your damn—”

“I’m helping him with a case,” you blurt. 

Hood throws his hand up, glaring at you. It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a solid ten seconds. Then…

“Holy shit,” Hood’s brother says. “You do have a girlfriend. Wait. Hold on. This is wild. You don’t even have a social security number.”

“I do not have a girlfriend!” Hood snaps, drawing the attention of some coworkers. You nudge him. He exhales through his nose.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, you little fucker,” he says, quieter. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Can I ask your girlfriend a question? Respectfully, what were you thinking? You can do so much b—”

“Text me when it’s done,” Hood growls and hangs up.

You look at each other for a moment. 

“You didn't hear any of that,” Hood says. “Got it?”

“Got it.” 

“Good. Let's see who gets scared. He should do it right about…” 

His phone beeps. You look around the room. 

Soon, your culprit reveals himself. Matt!

Holy shit. 

"He didn't want a picture," Hood says slowly. "He was frisking me! Motherfucker."

"But isn't he drunk?" you ask.

"No." Hood sighs in disgust. "How did I miss that? Br—someone I know does that all the time, spilling alcohol on himself so he smells like he's been drinking. God. Oldest trick in the book!"

"Do you think he knows you're the Red Hood?"

"No. But he might suspect something. Let's go.” 

You follow Matt out of the party. He's walking fast. Yeah. Definitely your guy. 

Down the hallway, Matt turns around and makes direct eye contact with you. You panic. 

“Hood!” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says. “Follow my lead.” 

Loudly, he laughs and puts an arm around your waist. “C’mon, baby, no one’ll know.”

And then you're being herded into a janitor’s closet. 

You stumble in, confused and reeling from how easily Hood plays the affectionate boyfriend role. He follows you in, shuts the door, and pulls the chain dangling from the ceiling. The single light bulb turns on. 

You take care to not knock over any cleaning supplies. You don't see the mop on the floor, however, and you trip backwards on the handle. 

Hood's reaction time is impeccable. He jerks forward to catch you, tugging you back on your feet with his hands on your arms. 

“Y’alright?” he asks. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, mildly mortified. “Thanks.”

He lets go. You shift on your feet. 

“How long are we gonna stay here?” you ask. 

Hood checks his phone. “Well, he should've moved on by now. Let's—”

The doorknob jiggles. You look at Hood in fear. His expression is similar. 

“Pretend!” you whisper, and that's all he needs to understand and move. 

You're expecting your arms around Hood, maybe exaggeratedly feeling him up. You are not expecting Hood to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs and press you against the wall. You squeal, arms shooting out to hold onto his neck. Hood's beard ends up in your mouth and you spit it out. 

The door swings open, revealing a very tipsy couple. 

“Oops!” the woman says, grinning. “Sorry. Carry on.”

The guy gives a thumbs-up. “True love.”

You smile awkwardly. Something is pressing into your hip.

“True love,” Hood deadpans. “Rock on.”

As soon as the door closes, you're squirming. 

“What is that?” you hiss. 

“My gun! Oh my God, it's my gun,” Hood says, quickly setting you down. “It's not…”

He trails off and backs away. You stand there, processing what just happened. 

“That wasn’t—”

“I didn’t—”

You both stop. Hood adjusts his beard. 

“You're really strong,” you say, wringing your hands. 

Hood nods. “Sorry about the, uh…”

“Yeah, let's just not talk about this.”

“Yup. Find Matt?” 

“Absolutely.” 

You open the door and peek out. The hallway is empty. Glory be.

“All clear,” you say, and Hood is on your heels as you sneak out. 

“Any ideas on where he'd go?” Hood asks. 

“Matt works in a cubicle like the rest of us. Emerson’s office is on the twelfth floor.” 

“Fine. We'll hit Emerson's office first. More privacy, and maybe they'll both be there. Two birds.”

“Emerson's office is protected by a password lock. He changes it every night,” you say, scurrying to keep up with Hood. 

“That's fine. I got a key right here,” he says, patting his holster.

“Wait! If the lock is tampered with, it sets off an alarm and security will come. You can't shoot it, Hood.”

He stops and sighs. “Why is everything so goddamn complicated? Alright, new plan. I'm gonna get my stuff from where we were and I'll break in the old-fashioned way.” 

Fifteen Minutes Later.

“This seems really unsafe!” you say, watching Hood dangle outside a three story window on a wire. He's attached to a grappling hook but still. Still! 

“Eh, I died once. Didn't stick. Hold the hook.” 

“I am!” As if you'd do anything but. You don't want the Red Hood to become Red Goo. 

Chilly December wind makes your eyes water and your nose cold. Still, you hold on. 

“Almost there!” he says. 

“Hey! What're you doing?” 

You whirl around and close your eyes due to the flashlight shining at them. Even though the lights are on. 

An elderly security guard glares at you. It's a good thing you're not an actual criminal… though after tonight, you're not so sure. 

“Um.” You try to hold onto the hook while hiding it behind your back. “Bird watching?”

The guard turns off the flashlight and tucks it into his belt. He slowly walks to you. 

“If you're doing something illegal, Miss, you're in big trouble.”

Well, this is fantastic. Of course it would be you that gets caught. 

The guard is getting closer. Your grip is sweaty. He peers over your shoulder. You let go of the hook, praying to every spirit out there that Hood is as good as everyone says he is. 

The guard looks around and scratches his head. You shrug, heart in your throat. 

“See?” you say. “Bird watching.”

He frowns at you. “I've got my eye on you.”

“And I commend you for that.” 

“Are you sassing me?” 

Are you? You might be. You've been spending too much time with Hood. 

Hood! You turn and look out the window. You don't see any red goo below, but it's also cold and foggy. Shit. You hurry to the elevators. 

“Okay, happy holidays, bye!”

The elevator doors open. You press twelve and close the door before the guard can consider getting on with you and shooting you a hairy eyeball all the way down. 

You hurry out and run down to Emerson's office. The door has been left ajar, which is good, right?

Bang!

You throw yourself against the wall. Shit. Maybe not. 

Ugh, you told Hood no shooting! Son of a bitch. 

“We're doing this tonight!” That's Emerson's voice. “I don't care if I have to shoot my way out.” 

Shoot? Oh no.

You carefully peek through the crack. Hood is standing with his hands behind his head. His beard has blood in it. Emerson is in front of him, gun to his head. 

Hood catches your eye. He gives you the tiniest head shake. You swallow. 

You can't just leave him there. 

Okay. Think. Emerson's back is to you. You can't see Matt, but you figure he's far enough away to not immediately shoot you. Hopefully. 

Anyway, what's your other option? The feisty relic upstairs? You can't risk any civilians getting hurt. 

Technically you're also a civilian but not tonight. Tonight you might as well be Batman. 

You slowly pull the door open further. You sneak in, then hide behind the secretary's desk.

“Is it done?” Emerson snaps.

That's when you see Matt in the corner on a laptop. 

“It takes time,” Matt says, obviously stressed too. 

“Well, hurry up!” Emerson looks at Hood. “Then we'll dispose of Santa here.”

Hood shrugs. “You can certainly try. Many have. ‘M still here.”

“Lots of bravado for a man in a costume,” Emerson sneers. “What are you, police?”

Hood groans. “As fucking if! I'm not a cop.” 

He hums. “Perhaps not. Otherwise this place would be crawling with them already. But you're alone.”

“How d'you know I'm alone?” Hood asks. 

You're glad he's calm because you're feeling the beginnings of another panic attack. But you can't panic, not now. The adrenaline pulsing through you is the only thing keeping you from going catatonic. 

You have no weapon, no plan. How the hell are you supposed to help Hood?

“You're bluffing,” Emerson says. 

“He has a girlfriend,” Matt says. “Some IT girl. She might come looking for him.”

“Then we'll take care of her too.”

Matt looks uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything. Hood is still cool as a cucumber. 

“She won't look for me. We had a fight. I forgot to buy the candy she likes.”

Candy? Why would—oh!

On the secretary's desk is a glass bowl filled with mini candy canes. You wrap your hands around it. 

“She knows my favorite,” Hood says, locking eyes with you.

You throw the bowl with all your might. Emerson is too slow—Hood grabs the bowl one-handed and swings it, knocking the gun from Emerson's hand. The candy explodes into pieces. Hood swings again, this time into Emerson's head. The bowl cracks. Emerson crumples to the floor. 

“Are you o—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In a blink, Hood wraps one arm around your waist and yanks you to the floor, covering your body. You curl into him on instinct. 

“I got you, I got you,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nod, words not coming right now. You squeeze his hand. Hood seems to understand and he scoots you both behind Emerson’s desk. Then he loads his gun and cocks it.

“Stay here,” he says, then fires six shots. 

“Goddamnit!” Matt yells across the room. “This wasn't the plan! You're not supposed to be here!”  

Hood laughs, which is absolutely terrifying. “Don't talk to me about ruined plans, buddy. I've been waiting all night for an excuse to shoot somebody. Please make my night.” 

Matt fires four more shots. 

“Fuck you, cop!” 

“What the fuck? Fuck you more! I'm not a fucking cop!”

“Maybe it's the way you stand,” you say, teeth chattering from anxiety. 

Hood squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “I stand like a cop? Gross. I gotta work on that.” 

“You're somebody!” Matt yells. “You're not just some guy, Todd, don't lie to me. You and that chick from IT are in cahoots.”

You huff. “He knows your name but not mine?”

“I’d take it as a compliment.”

Matt fires again. Hood tucks you behind him. 

“He won’t kill anybody,” he says, with way too much confidence, in your opinion. 

“Oh, is that why he's peacefully shooting at us?”

“He's scared, sure. But he can’t kill. Trust me, I know. Hey, Matt!” 

“What?”

Hood stands up. Your eyes bug out of your head. 

“Hood!” you hiss. “Hood!”

He ignores you, of course. 

“You won’t hurt anyone,” Hood says. He starts walking toward Matt. “You're not a killer, Matt.”

And all this time you thought Hood was sort of sane. Nope. 

“I will shoot you!” Matt warns. 

“Aw. You wouldn't shoot Santy Claus, would you?” 

Matt pulls the trigger. You gasp. It clicks. The magazine is empty. 

Hood closes the distance between them and grabs the gun, then elbows Matt in the face. Matt sprawls onto the floor. 

“Yeah, I don't risk my life on human emotion,” Hood says, loud enough so you can hear. “People can be so unpredictable. I will take a chance on a gun that only fires seven rounds, though. For a guy in finance, you're not very good with numbers, Matty.” 

You sigh in relief, slumping against the desk. After tonight, you're retiring. 

“Y'okay over there?” Hood asks. 

“Yeah.”

It's quiet for a bit. Then Hood returns and offers you a hand to help you stand. You do so on shaky limbs. 

He's got a cut on his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek. You frown. 

“I'm sorry I let go of the hook. I thought—”

“You let go of the hook?”

You stop. “Um. No?” 

Hood squints at you. “Choosing to forgive you for that.” 

“I knew you were inside the office!”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I'm not the only one taking risks,” you say. “Matt still fired at you.”

“Eh.” Hood shrugs. “He’s a crap shot. And I counted the rounds. I maintain my point. Factually, he could not shoot me.”

“You could've told me the gun was empty,” you say. 

“I wanted you to think I was cool and brave.” 

You laugh. “I already think that.”

Hood looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to see right down into your soul. Intense. You cross your arms.

“So, um, ready to ditch this party?” you ask. 

“With pleasure.”

“What about them?” you ask, pointing to Matt.

“I have backup arriving soon. Let's get your coat.” 

You get your things while Hood changes back into his usual garb. He meets you at the back exit, the one that leads to an alleyway, Santa suit gone. The party's winding down and most are getting into their cars. You're grateful no one stops to ask where you disappeared to. 

There's police outside, but they're not here for Emerson. It's Bill that's being questioned by Commissioner Gordon. You stop short at the sight. 

“Hood… what did you do?” 

“Hm? Oh! There might have been some discrepancies in Bill's finances and he might have committed fraud to pay off his gambling debts. All circumstantial, though.”

“Please don't tell me you framed my coworker because he's a jerk,” you say. 

“No, but I'm not above that, for the record. I recognized Bill from when I was casing the Iceberg Lounge. That's where he racked up all that debt.”

You nod slowly. “That's how you knew his name.”

“Yup. He was a nobody, so I didn't bother with him. Had I known he was such a menace at work, well…”

You grin. “It's okay. I appreciate it now.” 

Hood nods. The silence is awkward for a few seconds. 

“So—”

“You don't have to keep working here,” he says. “You can leave if you wanna.”

“Hood…”

He puts up a hand. “Hear me out. I have a contact at Wayne Enterprises. I can get you an interview. Hell, I can get you the job.”

“And what would I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Think of it as a thank you for tonight. You didn't have to help me but you did.”

You open and close your mouth. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”

“Don't gotta say a thing,” Hood says quietly. “If anyone deserves a new year, it's you.”

“Oh.” Your throat feels tight suddenly. “Oh, Hood, that's really—that's nice of you.”

“It's been known to happen. Don't spread it around though.”

“But I don't want the job without interviewing!” you say. “I want to get it on my own.”

Hood nods. “Deal.”

You want to hug him but that seems like too much, even with all you’ve done tonight. So you take out a candy cane instead.

“I salvaged one from the bowl,” you say. “Merry Christmas, Hood.”

He takes it, tucking it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas. Need a ride?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine. See you around?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Stay safe, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Will you?”

He laughs. “No promises.” 

Then you blink and he's gone. You shove your hands into your coat pockets. 

In each pocket, there's a handful of Warheads. You smile.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

nsfw. ellie fingers you on patrol to help with your cramps. 1.4k words.

Never in your three years of residency in Jackson would you ever predict this–Ellie’s fingers deep inside of you, stroking the soft, sweet spot swollen by your own arousal. You would never have been able to predict actually crying out for her touch, hips bucking up to meet her palm like it was nothing. It was truly everything, because this was never supposed to happen.

You and Ellie had a strong distaste for each other from the start.

You liked to go to parties and drink, be reckless during patrols, and (at least attempt to) sleep with anyone who you thought was even slightly fuckable. Ellie was a wallflower, so maybe her distaste for you was plain jealousy. For you, your dislike for Ellie was much more than just something solvable with a little chat.You really resented her, and maybe it was because she actually made you feel things.

It was just another patrol like the rest, Ellie being quiet around you, and you refusing to make your usual conversation. Ellie was the only person you didn’t chat up a storm with when it came to these long patrol shifts, this one even lasting two days and requiring a camp set-up. If the two of you had really thought it through, you would’ve been more careful. Two people who have that obvious and yet annoyingly oblivious tension? It should’ve been predictable.

It started with the growing of blood in your underwear. The perfect time to be on your period, huh? You only let out a little huff to which Ellie ignored, setting off into the forest to put on a pad. When you returned, it was like fate that hit you, much like a lightning strike. Literally a strike of pain in your lower stomach signifying cramps to come, and on the one patrol you before to bring a bottle of Ibuprofen on.

You laid in your sleeping bag in pain, not wanting to even complain to Ellie, as much as you were the whining type. It’d be real nice to have someone to listen to you express how badly this cycle was, how your body was doing you dirty. You weren’t expecting Ellie to speak to you first.

“You okay over there?” not the usual irritated tone she liked to use with you, but not the most empathetic. Just slightly softer, but that was a mercy due to the strain in your relationship.

“Cramps.”

“Just take an ibuprofen and lay on your side.”

“Gee, thanks. I would’ve never thought to do that,” you bit, making Ellie glare. “I don’t have anything on me. I forgot I was close to my period.”

“Damn,” a not so sympathetic, and possibly indifferent curse from her.

“Yeah, damn is right. I feel like I’m being stabbed in my uterus repeatedly.” 

Silence went on for a few more minutes, but it was visually obvious that you were in a lot of pain. Despite her dislike for you, she didn’t like seeing you suffer. There was a small flutter of empathy deep inside her that made her suggest something she probably shouldn’t have.

“Physical stuff can help cramps, you know.” Quiet, and yet the implication was clear.

“You mean like..sex?”

“Don’t think of it as actual sex, obviously. Just me helping you.”

“If we do this, we aren’t having sex. I’m not moaning for you or telling you how much I want you, so don’t expect that shit. You’re simply giving me an orgasm, and then it’s done.”

“Agreed. No kissing, and as soon as you..finish, we stop.”

And it started just like that, as sexual act of non-sex.

Ellie didn’t warm you up with neck kisses or sloppy love bites like your usual partners did, and partially, you were glad. This was just supposed to be an orgasm, and you didn’t need to like each other to appreciate a good orgasm, right? A simple pain reliever. Anytime your brain would bleed with thoughts of Ellie doing those things for you, however, you’d block them out as soon as they entered into your mind. The imagery was more difficult to get out of your head, though. Just simply picturing her plush lips trailing over your neck, breath ghosting over…

You snapped out of it, and just focused on trying to cum so that this would end, and you and Ellie could go back to hating each other.

One finger slipped inside of you, and you bit back a gasp. You were wet enough to take it without much at all, and you hoped Ellie just assumed that was just because of your period and not actually because you were turned on.

Ellie started out slow, just rubbing your g-spot with her finger, providing some direct stimulation. It made you realize how different the act of sex itself was from sex with all of the other stuff. The teasing, how your typical couple would build up the moment to make it the best possible experience. That wasn’t what this was, though. So, why were you biting your lip to stifle moans when Ellie slipped in another finger into your increasingly wet hole, and even padded over your clit with her thumb?

Your head was spinning, and you were starting to lose your focus on just having that orgasm, the aid to your cramping. You were already too distracted to think about the pain, too focused on trying your hardest to pretend like Ellie’s calloused fingers curling into your pussy wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve felt in a while. 

Ellie didn’t complain when you instinctively bucked your hips up into her touch, and she had to try really hard not to lean down and kiss you when the occasional moan slipped past your lips. She couldn’t blame you, it was a natural reaction.

So, why was it that you were now begging for more when she curled right up into your sweet, tender spot?

“Ellie,” you breathed out, eyes fluttering open to meet hers. The scrunch of her nose that was usually present when you were around faded away, and her eyes were lidded, her lips parted slightly. A delicious, rosy tint set across her freckled face.

“Is it helping?”

“Please. Please, fuck me..just like that, I need it,” you begged, making her stomach do summersaults. It couldn’t be helped, though. Ellie took note that you shed off a little bit of your dignity when she slid her fingers slightly out and shoved them back into your hole, just to slam into your g-spot. She liked the way you sounded, the way your usual walls built around her crumbled when she fucked you good. Even though she didn’t (or at least tried not to) care to observe you enough, she noticed that you were different when at parties dancing with random people, more inauthentic. Something was ironically beautiful about the rawness to your voice that hit hard when she did something particularly mind-blowing to your pussy.

A mix of blood and your juices were dripping down her knuckles, and she really wanted to taste you. It would probably be something she would regret later, but Ellie decided to sate herself with a soft kiss to your lips instead. She felt warm and tasted like the rations from earlier, but you kissed her back fervently. The needy sounds coming from your throat were swallowed by her own mouth.

The orgasm that hit you was mind-blowing enough to aid with the cramps, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. Instead, it was the way Ellie’s tongue coaxed your lips apart, and the scent of her hair against your nose when she buried her face into your neck to taste your pulse. You felt every tremor run through you like lightning, and it was unlike anything anyone else could give you. It wasn’t forced, and the passion there was real. You actually felt something with her. 

As you came down however, the moment dissolved into awkward silence and the careful removal of Ellie’s fingers from you. You swallowed, holding back your words. You wished to forget it all now, not because you wanted to deny it ever happened, but you were scared of what it meant if you got attached to someone in Jackson.

Just like that, it was over, and you and Ellie didn’t go quite back into disliking each other dynamic but rather an awkward limbo. You left that patrol and spent the next few weeks sleeping with people, pulling all-nighters trying to make yourself feel what you did on that patrol, but you never could find the same peak in every single category of feelings that Ellie gave you.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

[ID: The first image is a movie poster for the Dreamworks movie Home, showing Oh, a Boov (a wide, short, purple creature), Tip, a black girl, and a calico cat. The rest of the images are screenshots of sections of The True Meaning of Smekday, by Adam Rex.

In a ridiculously short amount of time, the Boov determined that humans were unwilling to mix peacefully into their culture. They pointed out all the people who fled instead of welcoming their new neighbors, even those whose homes had been taken outright. Captain Smek himself appeared on television for an official speech to humankind. (He didn't call us humankind, of course. He called us Noble Savages of Earth. Apparently we were all still living on Earth at this point.) "Noble Savages of Earth," he said. "Long time have we tried to live together in peace." (It had been five months.) "Long time have the Boov suffered under the hostileness and intolerableness of you people. With sad hearts I now concede that Boov and humans will never to exist as one." I remember being really excited at this point. Could I possibly be hearing right? Were the Boov about to leave? I was so stupid. "And so now I generously grant you Human Preserves—gifts of land that will be for humans forever, never to be taken away again, now." I stared at the TV, mouth agape. "But we were here first," I said pathetically.

The tent was strung with white Christmas lights and packed with people, all facing a stage on one end. And on the stage stood a redheaded man in a wifebeater with a Viking tattooed on his chest. People were booing him. "Shut up!" the redhead was saying. "I have the stage! All I'm saying is, now that we've all had to leave our real homes, we got a chance to get America right! There can be a place for the Saxon Americans, and a place for the coloreds, and a place for—shut up!"

"So every place has some kind of leader?" I asked. It had all happened so fast. "Sure. Most of them are former state governors, or senators, or whatever. The president runs a little town called Rye." "Just a little town?" "Yes..." said Mitch. "He's not very popular anymore, because of the invasion. People assume it was his fault somehow. But we have to have leaders. We have to have government." "I guess," I said. "Daniel Landry's district is far south of here," he said, "on some former Indian land." "Indian land? Like a reservation?" "That's right." "Is this Dan guy an Indian?" "I don't think so, no. I'm pretty sure he's white. He wasn't a governor or anything before, but he's really rich, so I imagine he's a good leader." "Uh-huh. But he's white," I said. "The Indians elected a white guy?" "Well...I don't know. I imagine all the other people elected him. It's mostly white folks living on the reservation now." I frowned. "And the Indians are okay with this?" "What do you mean?" "Well...it was a reservation," I said. "It was land we promised to the Native Americans. Forever." Mitch looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. "But...we needed it," he said.

"Mr. Hinkel," said the Chief, jerking his head toward the sleeping man. "He thinks Indians like me ought to live somewhere else. Likes to tell me about it a lot." I didn't really want to talk about Mr. Hinkel. "Well, maybe they'll let him go soon." "Doubt it," said the Chief. "Got beat up pretty good by someone who thinks gay people like him ought to live somewhere else."

The last excerpt from the book is in comic format, divided into four main panels. The first is captioned, "2,000 (two thousand) years ago - Many schools closed by the HighBoov, because Money is Needed Elsewhere. Boov are told not to worry about learning unimportant things. Boov are told to learn one useful thing that may be done over and over again and give their life meaning. HighBoov devise clever tests to find which Boov should be taught more, and which Boov should not be taught because Money is Needed Elsewhere." Boov are shown doing things like guarding, serving food, and taking care of children.

The second panel is captioned, "1,150 (one thousand, one hundred and fifty) years ago - Certain Boov who were taught many things announce that industry is polluting the waters of Boovworld." Boov in uniforms point to a chart of their world and gesture to something outside a window, presenting this information to other Boov in fancy outfits. "These scientist predict that the oceans soon will no longer be able to sustain life, unless things are changed."

The third panel is captioned, "1,149 (one thousand, one hundred and forty-nine) years ago - HighBoov declare that these warnings of pollution cannot be proven, so therefore nothing should be changed. The scientist Boov who gave these warnings are declared evil-evil that they should call our God unclean. These Boov are named the Forgotten and sent onto land into exile forever. Some of them die of asphyxiation. Most don't." A line of Boov trudge out of water onto land.

The fourth panel is captioned, "1,003 (one thousand and three) years ago - God dies of asphyxiation." There are many skeletons with lots of darkness in the background.

Plain text: "1,003 years ago, God dies of asphyxiation" End ID]

like the most politically neutered movie of all time unironically

[lowkeyerror]

Just Hold Me

Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Notes: Fluff x 100, comfort x 1 million, very soft

Summary: You had a rough day and Rio wants to comfort you, but she wonders if she's doing enough.

An: The yearly fluff I post after Christmas. Soft as a bunny's tail.

Masterlist

Love was such a strange thing. Tangled up in emotions like hurt, betrayal, and longing, but also bathed in happiness, care, and optimism. It was complex enough with normal people, but you had fallen for Death itself.

Loving Rio was like loving a hurricane. It was wild and even if some things were predictable, you couldn’t always prepare for what was to come. Having a trail of destruction behind her was a part of her job.

It was something she only found shame in when she was with you. She didn’t want you to think that of her. The truth being, that you never could. It was what had drawn you to her in the first place. Death didn’t scare you, not at all. Falling into her embrace felt like destiny. You’d tell her, but Rio was never one for fate, she said if anything it was an omen.

She was so scared of the consequences when it came to being with you. She tried to go against her urges, but you were patient. In her mind you’d forget her and move on with someone more suitable, but you never did. You knew what you wanted and it was her.

There would never be anyone to come close.

Rio was a good girlfriend. She was affectionate, and as attentive as she could be. There were still some things that she was uncertain about when it came to her emotions. After all she had only learned them from her limited experience in other relationships and observing others. She had seen a lot, but that didn’t mean she understood it all.

So when she appeared in your home to find your curled up on the couch, hidden by a blanket, she simply tilted her head to the side before approaching you.

“Love?”

You heard her voice, but felt like you couldn’t move or speak. Instead you let out a soft hum in response. It caught Rio off guard, she was still assessing the situation, but it wasn’t looking good.

She stepped into your point of view, crouching so that she could meet your eyes. She was taken aback by the sadness in them. The bags under your eyes were dark and heavy. Rio pouted seeing the red hues scattered in them.

She reaches out cautiously to hold your face in her hands. Her touch was warm, it made you briefly close your eyes.

“What happened?” Rio’s voice was soft, as if she was scared of pushing.

However you weren’t like the lovers of her past. You wouldn’t push her away, so you took a deep breath trying to muster up your voice.

“Hold me,” you managed to murmur.

Rio was quick to shed her work clothes and create more comfortable attire for the sake of both of you. You briefly sat up on the couch, only enough for the Green Witch to slip behind you. Once she was behind you, you tugged her arm over your body. You held it in place keeping her hold on you tight.

Rio places a delicate kiss on the back of your neck, “I'm not going anywhere."

For a while you stay in that position silently. Neither of you break through the quiet. Rio thinks she’s eventually going to hear your breathing level but it doesn’t.

“Long day,” you mumble against her hand.

“I think I know something about those,” Rio threaded her fingers through yours.

You let out a small laugh, “I bet you do.”

You feel the time shift again. You turn to face Rio who scans over your features again.

“Is there something I can do?”

You see the worry in her eyes and it makes your heart swell. The smallest furrow in her brow, the usual mischief in her eyes is gone, her tone is missing the teasing edge.

“Just this,” you bury your head in the crease of her neck.

You inhale deeply, her scent always grounds you. That specific scent of earth freshly hit with rain. You could get lost in her aroma, it almost makes you feel like you’re outside. You can feel her skin cooling, which only submerges you deeper into the fantasy.

Now both of her hands hold you. She kisses the top of your head. Rio is still uncertain about it she should be doing more for you. This didn't feel like enough. She wanted to destroy whatever it was that made your day so hard. Seeing you in this state was tugging at her heart strings.

She began to trace patterns into your back. You didn't mind, you like having her hands on you, being this close together. It helped you feel safe.

“Are you sure it’s enough,” Rio whispers, insecurities gnawing at her.

You pull back just enough to look at her, “Rio Vidal you’ll always be enough for me.”

Your words knocked the wind right out of her, she felt her face getting warm under your gaze, but she wasn’t trying to hide it from you.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that? Legal or illegal. If I need to go fuck up your boss I will. If I need to pop your annoying coworkers tire, I will. If you needed me to hunt down a Karen I-"

“I know,” you cut her off.

“All of the above?” Rio wriggles her eyebrows playfully.

You move to sit up and she sits beside you.

You rub a hand over your face, “Work was fine, I guess. A few difficult customers, but nothing out of the ordinary. I don’t really know why, but today just felt harder to get through than other days. Nothings wrong, I just feel a little… down.”

Rio listen intently as you speak. When you finish she nods slowly, “I think I know what you need.”

“You do?”

Rio nods with a little more certainty, “Let me cook for us. We’ll order some snacks and pop in a movie. We can keep cuddling too. And tomorrow, I think you should call out. We’ll spend the whole day together, I know all the best parks for walks. How does that sound?”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That sounds perfect. I love you.”

Rio places a gentle kiss on your lips, “I love you too.”

Rio reluctantly begins to stand, but you pull her back down, “Just hold me a bit longer?”

She lays her back flat on the couch and pulls you on top of her, stealing another peck.

“Always.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Call Me Dad

Summary: You take Spencer home for Christmas.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, comfort

Warnings/Includes: use of Y/N, you have a mom and a dad, airplane

Word count: 8.7k

a/n: i literally wrote this dinner the summer and just remembered it lmaooo NOT PROOF READ

Spencer and you have been dating for six blissful months. You are his first girlfriend at 25 years old, and while he is still anxious he could do something wrong, you prove time and time again that he has nothing to worry about. You've already told him you love him, and he treasures the way you feel. He hasn't returned the sentiment yet, but you're not upset about it. You understand that he needs his time, and you're more than willing to give it to him. 

With Christmas approaching, you ask him to come home with you for the holidays. His mom is on a Caribbean cruise with her residents and caretakers, and you can't stand the idea of him being alone during this special time of year. Spencer hesitates at first. Memories of his dad leaving him when he was young, combined with his mom not often being in a state to parent, have left him unsure of how to navigate familial interactions. 

Despite his nerves, Spencer accepts your invitation, knowing how much this means to you and wanting to be a part of your world. He's never been good around parents, but he knows this is a chance to experience something he's always wanted: a warm, loving holiday with someone who truly cares for him.

Spencer's anxiety was at an all-time high as the two of you made your way through the bustling airport. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his shoulders hunched and eyes darting around as if he were expecting something catastrophic to happen at any moment. His usual calm demeanor had all but disappeared, replaced by a bundle of nerves that made him appear more like a skittish cat than the brilliant profiler he was.

Recognizing his unease, you took the lead, gently guiding him through the labyrinthine halls and throngs of people. Your hand wrapped securely around his, you navigated the chaos of the airport with practiced ease. Spencer was content to let you take charge, grateful for your steady presence beside him.  

Once you reached security, Spencer fumbled with his belongings, his fingers trembling slightly as he removed his shoes and placed them into the plastic bins. The noise and commotion seemed to blur together, creating a cacophony that only heightened his nerves. 

"It's okay," you whispered reassuringly, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. "Just breathe. We'll be through this in no time."

He nodded, taking a deep breath and doing his best to focus on your calming words rather than the endless line of travelers. With you by his side, he managed to get through security and baggage checks without too much trouble, though he was visibly relieved when the ordeal was over.

As you settled into your seats on the plane, Spencer finally seemed to relax, even if just a little. The roar of the engines and the hum of people boarding around you faded into the background as he focused on the comfort of your presence. He clasped your hand tightly, resting it in his lap as if it were a security blanket. 

Despite his well-documented aversion to germs, Spencer was willing to overlook the potential contamination of the airplane seat if it meant keeping you close. In truth, he needed something tangible to hold onto—something that reminded him he wasn't alone in this unfamiliar and slightly terrifying journey. 

"I'll definitely need a hot shower once we arrive at the hotel," Spencer muttered with a half-smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

You chuckled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, if that’s the price of getting to spend Christmas together, I think it's worth it. Besides, the hotel has great water pressure."

Spencer managed a genuine smile at that, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as the plane began to taxi down the runway. The steady thrum of the engines provided a soothing background noise, and he found himself focusing on the rhythmic sound of your breathing instead of the clamorous thoughts still circling in his mind.

As the plane ascended into the sky, Spencer gave your hand a gentle squeeze. He felt a warmth spreading through his chest, grateful for your unwavering support and the way you always seemed to know exactly what he needed. 

The steady hum of the airplane engine and the gentle warmth of the cabin worked their magic on Spencer, lulling him into a deep sleep shortly after takeoff. The tension that had gripped him so tightly began to ebb away as his eyelids grew heavy, and soon he was slipping into a much-needed rest. His head rested comfortably against your shoulder, a soft snore escaping his lips as his breathing evened out. You watched him with a fond smile, glad to see him finally relax.

—

The flight seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as Spencer remained blissfully unaware of the turbulence or the occasional announcements crackling over the intercom. When the plane finally touched down, the jolt barely registered in his sleepy daze. 

You gently nudged him awake, whispering, "Hey, sleepyhead. We've landed." He blinked groggily, trying to shake off the remnants of his nap as he stretched and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"Mmm," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "We're here already?"

You chuckled softly, helping him gather his belongings. "Yes, we are. Come on, let's get through the airport."

In his post-nap haze, Spencer moved almost on autopilot, following your lead as you navigated the bustling terminal. The world around him felt surreal, the bustling crowds and overhead announcements fading into a distant hum. He kept a firm hold on your hand, trusting you to guide him through the maze of travelers and luggage carts.

Picking up the rental car was a blur. Spencer watched as you handled the paperwork, his mind still foggy from sleep. He leaned against the counter, blinking slowly as if trying to process everything happening around him. Once the keys were in hand, you led him to the car, and he gratefully sank into the passenger seat.

"Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit while I drive us to the hotel?" you suggested, glancing over at him with a smile.

Spencer nodded, resting his head against the window. The rhythmic motion of the car soon lulled him back into a state of semi-consciousness, where he drifted in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of the passing scenery.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, Spencer was roused once more, his sleepy daze still clinging to him as you checked in and made your way to your room. He stretched as he stood in the elevator, trying to shake off the last vestiges of slumber.

Once inside the hotel room, Spencer looked around with bleary eyes, taking in the cozy atmosphere. "This looks nice," he mumbled, a hint of appreciation in his voice.

"It does," you agreed, dropping your bags and heading toward the bathroom. "Why don't you take that shower you were looking forward to? I'll unpack while you do."

Spencer nodded, grateful for the suggestion. The promise of a hot shower was too enticing to resist, and he quickly gathered his toiletries and a fresh change of clothes. As he stepped into the bathroom, the sound of the rushing water immediately filled the space, creating a soothing ambiance.

He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped under the showerhead, the water smoothing over him with an invigorating force that seemed to wash away the last remnants of travel fatigue. The hotel, as promised, had excellent water pressure, and Spencer couldn't help but revel in the sensation. He closed his eyes, letting the steam envelop him as he began to feel truly awake for the first time since they boarded the plane.

With a renewed sense of calm, Spencer finished his shower and emerged from the bathroom, feeling refreshed and ready to embrace whatever came next. He found you unpacking and couldn’t help but smile, appreciating the small but significant act of settling into this new space together.

"All clean?" you asked, glancing up from the suitcase with a knowing grin.

"Yes," Spencer replied, running a towel through his hair. "And you were right. The water pressure is fantastic."

You chuckled, walking over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Told you so. Now, are you ready to explore? I figured we could take a walk, get some fresh air, and maybe grab something to eat."

Spencer nodded, feeling more at ease than he had all day. "That sounds perfect," he said, slipping his hand into yours as you both headed out into the world beyond the hotel, eager to make the most of this special time together.

— 

That night, Spencer found himself lying wide awake in the darkened hotel room, his mind racing with thoughts that refused to quiet down. The shadows danced across the ceiling, and the gentle hum of the air conditioning did little to soothe the anxious thrum of his heart. His anxieties swirled relentlessly, fueled by the thought of meeting your family for the first time. 

He couldn't help but wonder what they would think of him. The prospect of meeting your parents was daunting enough, but what about your siblings? Did they have partners? How many people would he have to interact with? Spencer's mind spun with hypothetical scenarios, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. He feared making a poor impression or saying something that would betray his social awkwardness. Would they see him as the socially awkward genius he often felt like, or would they recognize the man you loved?

He turned slightly, glancing over at your sleeping form beside him. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a soft glow on your peaceful face, and Spencer felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. You looked so serene, so completely at ease, and he envied your ability to find rest so effortlessly. He couldn't help but feel a deep appreciation for your invitation to join him for the holidays. It was a significant gesture, a sign of trust and affection that meant more to him than he could easily express.

As he watched you sleep, he couldn't shake the guilt that crept in alongside his fears. You had been nothing but supportive and understanding since the day you met, always knowing how to ease his worries with a kind word or a gentle touch. And yet, here he was, plagued by doubts and insecurities. It felt unfair, especially when he knew how excited you were to introduce him to your family.

"If this family raised you," he mused to himself, "they couldn't be all bad." The thought lingered, providing a small comfort amid the turmoil of his mind. After all, if they were responsible for shaping the incredible person you had become, surely they possessed qualities worth admiring.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling once more. He tried to focus on the positives—the fact that you wanted him there with you, that you believed in him enough to introduce him to the people who mattered most. It was a gesture of acceptance, a sign that he had become an integral part of your life, and that alone was enough to make him feel a little braver.

In the quiet stillness of the room, he closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing thoughts. He reminded himself that he was not alone in this. You were there, right beside him, and that was more reassuring than anything else. As he listened to the gentle rhythm of your breathing, he slowly began to relax, the warmth of your presence wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

—

The next morning, Spencer awoke to one of his favorite sights: you, comfortably nestled against the pillows, your hair tousled from sleep. The sun filtered gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You were sitting up with a book in your hands, your glasses slightly askew, an endearing nod to your dedication to the story that had captured your attention even this early in the day.

He watched you quietly for a moment, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took in the familiar scene. There was something immensely comforting about the way you immersed yourself in your book, completely absorbed in the world the author had crafted (he doesn’t know you’re reading smut). It was a reflection of the curiosity and passion that he admired so much in you, a trait that you both shared and often bonded over.

“Good morning,” he finally murmured, his voice still a bit husky from sleep.

You looked up from your book, your eyes brightening as they met his. “Morning, sunshine,” you replied with a playful grin. “I didn’t want to wake you. You seemed like you needed the rest.”

Spencer stretched, feeling the remnants of sleep ease out of his muscles. “I appreciate that,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t sleep much at first, but I feel better now.”

You set your book aside, giving him your full attention. “Were you up worrying about today?”

He nodded, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “A little bit,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about meeting your family. It’s kind of a big deal.”

You reached over, gently adjusting his hair, which had gone a bit wild during the night. “I get it. It is a big deal, but I promise it’s not as scary as it seems. They’re just people who love me, and they’ll love you too because of that.”

Spencer felt his heart swell at your words. Your unwavering confidence in him was like a balm to his nerves, calming the storm of anxiety that had plagued him. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably stay home and read all day,” you teased, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “But you’re here with me, and that’s what matters.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling some of the tension lift from his shoulders. “True. I’d much rather be here with you than anywhere else.”

“Oh, just a little fantasy novel,” you replied, holding the book to your chest with a private smile. “Faeries, creatures, magic, the lot.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a look of genuine curiosity crossing his face. “Really? I didn’t know you were into fantasy.”

You shrugged playfully, a mischievous glint in your eye. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Doctor Reid. I have a soft spot for worlds where the impossible becomes possible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I suppose that makes sense. You’ve always had a knack for finding magic in the mundane.”

You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I think you’re the one who does that, Spencer. You make even the most ordinary things seem extraordinary.”

He felt a flush of warmth spread across his cheeks at your words. It was moments like these that reminded him of how lucky he was to have you in his life. Despite his initial hesitations, you had shown him a world full of wonder and possibility, much like the stories you loved to read.

As you both settled into the morning, Spencer felt a renewed sense of hope for the day ahead. He knew that with you by his side, he could face whatever challenges awaited him, including meeting your family. Your presence was a reminder that he was not alone in this journey, and that thought brought him more comfort than any reassurance ever could.

With a deep breath, Spencer pulled himself up to sit beside you, the two of you leaning against each other as you shared the quiet morning together. The world outside might have been bustling with holiday cheer, but inside this little bubble, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and understanding.

“Ready to start the day?” you asked, glancing over at him with a smile that made his heart flutter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Spencer replied, feeling more confident than he had the night before. He was ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that he had you to guide him through it all.

And so, with a sense of excitement and a touch of nerves, Spencer prepared to meet your family, his heart full of hope and gratitude for the love that had brought him here.

—

As you turned onto your family's street, Spencer's fingers fidgeted nervously in his lap. The drive had been filled with light chatter and music from the radio, but now that you were only moments away from the meeting he had been anxiously anticipating, the familiar weight of worry began to settle back into his chest. He watched the rows of houses pass by, each one decorated with festive lights and wreaths that hinted at the warmth within.

When you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home, you noticed Spencer take a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the cozy-looking house adorned with strings of colorful Christmas lights. You could feel the slight tremor in his hand as you reached over to give it a reassuring squeeze.

Turning to him, you offered a soft smile, trying to ease his apprehension. "Spencer," you said gently, "are you sure you're ready for this? We can always take a few more minutes if you need to."

He met your gaze, the earnestness in your eyes helping to ground him. "I think so," he replied, though the edge of uncertainty in his voice was still present. "I mean, I've faced serial killers and the most dangerous criminals, but this... this is a different kind of pressure."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I promise my family isn't as scary as a room full of unsubs."

He laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension from his frame. "I know, but meeting the people who raised you... it's important. I just want to make a good impression."

"You will," you assured him, leaning over to brush a gentle kiss across his lips. "They'll love you just as much as I do. Besides, you've already made an amazing impression on me, and that's not an easy feat."

Spencer's smile widened, the warmth of your words settling comfortably around him. He took a moment to look at the house again, imagining the family inside who had shaped the person he cherished so deeply. The thought was daunting but also exciting in a way he hadn’t expected.

"Okay," he said with a renewed sense of determination, "let’s get inside."

"That's the spirit," you said, giving his hand one last squeeze before opening your door. Spencer followed suit, stepping out into the crisp morning air and taking in the sight of your family home, with its inviting front porch and the faint aroma of pine and cinnamon wafting from within.

Together, you made your way up the front steps, your fingers intertwined with his, a tangible reminder that he wasn't facing this moment alone. As you reached the door, you gave him a reassuring nod before ringing the bell, signaling the start of a holiday filled with new memories and possibilities.

The door swung open with a dramatic flair, revealing your sibling, Charlie, standing there with an expression of gleeful mischief painted across their face. "Y/N!" they exclaimed with a sing-song voice, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of having caught you red-handed. "I saw you kissing in the driveway!"

You sighed, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a small smile at Charlie's antics. "Charlie! You had sex in Mom and Dad's bed! Are we even?"

Charlie feigned shock, clutching their chest with mock indignation. "Lips are sealed," they said with a smirk, clearly amused by the little exchange. Then, their gaze shifted past you to the man standing beside you. "Who is this beautiful man?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Charlie's dramatic introduction to Spencer. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid," you said, gesturing to him with a flourish as if presenting a prize. "I found him on the corner. Only $20 an hour, can you believe that?"

Spencer, who had been standing there looking slightly bewildered by the sibling banter, let out a nervous laugh. He adjusted his glasses, clearly unsure how to respond to the unexpected introduction. "Well, technically, it’s a little more than that, considering inflation and all," he said with a small smile, his awkward charm instantly endearing.

Charlie burst out laughing, their eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, he's a keeper, Y/N! I mean, you found a guy who's both handsome and economically savvy? What more could you ask for?"

You and Spencer both laughed, the tension easing from the room as Charlie's infectious energy lightened the mood. It was moments like these that made you grateful for having such a lively and supportive sibling, someone who could turn any situation into a moment of joy and laughter.

As you walked deeper into the house, the familiar warmth and coziness enveloped you both. The comforting scent of home, mixed with the aroma of freshly baked cookies, filled the air. Spencer hesitated slightly as he stepped inside, taking in the comforting chaos of your family home, and the subtle charm that only a loving household could offer.

Charlie led the way, beckoning you both into the living room where the sound of a football game played on the TV. The announcer's voice carried through the house, mingling with the occasional cheer from the fans in the stadium. The room was filled with soft, golden light from the fireplace, casting a warm glow over everything.

As you rounded the corner, you found your mom and other sibling, Finley, lounging on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in their lap. Their attention was momentarily focused on the game, but they quickly looked up as you entered, a wide grin spreading across their face.

"Hey! Look who finally decided to show up!" Finley called out, putting the popcorn aside and standing up to greet you. They wrapped you in a quick hug, squeezing you tightly as if to make up for lost time. You could feel the warmth of their embrace, the familiar scent of home that always brought a sense of comfort and belonging.

"It's so good to see you, Fin," you said, pulling back slightly to look at them. "I've missed this place."

Finley grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "Well, it's about time you came back. We’ve got a lot to catch up on."

Then, Finley turned their attention to Spencer, their expression friendly and curious. "And you must be Spencer," they said, smiling with genuine enthusiasm. "I've heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise."

Spencer returned the smile, trying to channel his best impression of confidence. “It’s nice to meet you, Finley,” he replied, feeling a little more at ease thanks to Finley's welcoming demeanor. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you too.”

Finley chuckled, a twinkle of mischief in their eyes. “All good things, I hope,” they teased, shooting a knowing glance at you.

You rolled your eyes playfully, feeling the warmth of the familial atmosphere settle around you. “Mostly good,” you teased back, “but I might have left out the parts about your questionable taste in movies.”

Finley gasped in mock offense, clutching their chest dramatically. “Hey, my taste in movies is impeccable! It’s just...unique.”

Your mom, who had been quietly observing the exchange with a smile, finally chimed in. “Don’t mind Finley, Spencer. They love to exaggerate. We’re just really glad you could join us for the holidays.”

Her voice was warm and welcoming, instantly putting Spencer at ease. He nodded, grateful for the kindness being extended to him. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. L/N. It’s nice to be here.”

“Please, call me Sandy,” she insisted with a wave of her hand. “We’re all family here, after all.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a small weight lift from his shoulders. Your mother’s acceptance was a reassuring start, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for how natural this all seemed. 

As you settled into the living room, Coconut, your dog, padded over, sniffing curiously at the newcomer. The dog’s tail wagged enthusiastically, thumping against the floor with each swing.

Spencer knelt down to greet Coconut, his fingers gently scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Hello, Coconut,” he said softly, his touch unsure at first but growing more confident as Coconut leaned into him, clearly enjoying the attention.

You smiled, watching the interaction with a fondness that only grew as Coconut plopped down at Spencer’s feet, making himself comfortable. “I think Coconut likes you,” you observed, giving Spencer an encouraging nod. “That’s a pretty high honor.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease further. “I suppose that’s a good sign,” he replied, continuing to pet the dog as Coconut rolled over, demanding belly rubs.

Your mom settled back onto the couch, a cup of coffee in hand, her attention shifting between the game and the scene unfolding before her. “So, Spencer, do you follow football?” she asked, glancing over with genuine interest.

“Not extensively,” Spencer admitted, “but I know a bit about it. The strategies can be quite fascinating.”

Your mom nodded, pleased with his response. “Finley here is the real football fanatic. They make sure we’re watching all the big games.”

“Guilty as charged,” Finley said with a grin, tossing a popcorn kernel into their mouth. “But don’t worry, we’re not too intense about it. It’s more about enjoying the day together.”

You reached over and gave Spencer’s hand a reassuring squeeze, sensing that he was beginning to relax. “We’re just happy to have you here, Spence. Family is about spending time together, not about impressing anyone.”

Spencer nodded, the warmth of your words resonating with him. As he settled back into the couch, he realized that this was exactly what he had always imagined a family gathering to be: relaxed, full of laughter, and surrounded by people who cared for one another.

As the game continued, you and Spencer joined in the lighthearted banter and conversations that filled the room. It wasn’t long before he found himself genuinely enjoying the company, the initial nerves giving way to a sense of belonging that he hadn’t anticipated.

With Coconut snuggled at his feet and your hand in his, Spencer began to see that maybe, just maybe, this Christmas would be as magical as the ones he’d read about in stories.

“Did I hear my favorite child is back?” your dad teased as he walked in from the kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder and a warm smile on his face. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and holiday spices trailed behind him, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the room.  

"Dad!" you exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and hurrying over to give him a hug. "I've missed you!"  

He enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing tightly before holding you at arm’s length to get a good look at you. “You look great, kiddo. I was just thinking that the house feels complete now that you’re here.”  

You laughed, feeling the genuine warmth of your dad's words. “It’s good to be home. And look, I even brought a guest!” You stepped aside to gesture toward Spencer, who was now standing a little uncertainly, unsure of what kind of greeting to expect.  

Your dad turned his attention to Spencer, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Ah, you must be Spencer,” he said, striding over to shake his hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you, son. Welcome to the family.”  

Spencer’s nerves eased slightly at the friendliness in your dad’s tone. He returned the handshake with a grateful nod. “Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And thank you for having me.”  

Your dad waved off the formalities with a chuckle. “None of that ‘sir’ business. You can call me Bruce.” He turned to the rest of the room, saying, “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get this holiday started right!”  

"Already trying to win the Best Dad Award, huh?" Finley quipped, tossing a playful grin his way.  

Your dad shrugged, feigning innocence. "Well, I’m just trying to stay ahead in the rankings. Gotta keep you kids on your toes."  

“Don’t worry, Dad,” you said, shooting Finley a teasing glance. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve always been my favorite.”  

Spencer watched the exchange with a small smile, feeling a sense of warmth at the easy banter. The rapport you had with your family was evident, and it was a relief to see how effortlessly you slipped back into the rhythm of home.  

As your dad settled into the armchair by the fireplace, he picked up a steaming mug of coffee from the side table, taking a satisfied sip. “So, Spencer, are you ready for the full holiday experience? We’ve got quite the lineup of activities planned.”

“Oh, um, yes. Looking forward to it,” Spencer replied, attempting to match your dad’s enthusiasm while simultaneously scanning his memory for any relevant data on traditional holiday festivities. 

“Don’t worry, Spence. He’s teasing,” you assured him, a playful smile spreading across your face. “We don’t do too much. A quick present exchange, some of Dad’s famous cooking, and a lot of drinking.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. “That sounds like something I can handle,” he said, relaxing further into the cozy atmosphere of the living room.

“Just be prepared,” Finley added, shooting your dad a mischievous grin. “Dad’s cooking is legendary. He’ll try to send you home with a week’s worth of leftovers if you’re not careful.”

Your dad feigned indignation, placing a hand over his heart. “Hey, I take pride in my culinary skills. Besides, isn’t that what the holidays are for? Making sure everyone leaves with full bellies and fond memories.”

“That, and making sure we all drink enough eggnog to last us till next year,” you teased, giving your dad a playful nudge.

Your dad chuckled, raising his mug in a mock toast. “To family traditions, then. May they never fade.”

Spencer smiled, feeling the warmth of your family’s love and joy seep into his bones. He realized that the dynamics in this household were vastly different from the ones he had grown up with, but in the best possible way. Here, there was a sense of ease and openness that made him feel welcome, despite being the newcomer.

—

You and Spencer walked back to the hotel room hand in hand, the crisp evening air wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. After a casual dinner with your family, filled with laughter and easy conversation around the football game, Spencer seemed more relaxed than he had been earlier in the day. 

As you entered the room, you couldn't help but tease him, “So, how do you feel? Were they as scary as you thought?”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as he slipped off his shoes and hung up his coat. “Honestly? Not at all. I was so worried for nothing. Your family is wonderful. They were so welcoming, and it made me feel at ease.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of pride in your family's hospitality. “I told you they’d love you. But I understand why you were nervous; meeting a partner’s family is always a big step.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking thoughtful. “I think it was the idea of making a good impression. I just wanted everything to go smoothly, and it did. Your dad’s humor really helped break the ice. And Finley... well, I wasn’t expecting the football trivia quiz, but it was actually fun.”

You laughed, remembering the light-hearted trivia challenge Finley had orchestrated during halftime. “Finley does have a way of keeping things interesting. They were trying to see if you’d fit into our family banter, and it seems like you passed with flying colors.”

Spencer leaned back against the pillows, a content smile playing on his lips. “Your family dynamic is so different from what I’m used to, but in a really good way. There’s so much love and warmth in your home.”

You joined him on the bed, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here to experience it with us. I know it’s not easy to put yourself out there, but you did great. I couldn’t have asked for a better day.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m happy I got to meet them, and it’s nice to be part of something so special. Plus, your dad’s cooking was definitely a highlight. I’m still thinking about those garlic mashed potatoes.”

You smiled, pleased to see how comfortable and at home he felt. “Dad does make a mean mashed potato. I’m glad you enjoyed it all.”

After a moment of silence, Spencer turned to look at you, his expression thoughtful. “You know, spending the day with your family made me realize something. I’ve always been a little afraid of getting too close to people, of letting them in. But being with you and your family... it feels different. It feels right.”

His words warmed your heart, and you met his gaze with a soft smile. “I’m glad to hear that, Spencer. You’re a part of my life now, and I want you to feel like you belong here, with us.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the sincerity in your words. “I do. And it’s because of you. You make everything feel less daunting, and I’m grateful for that.”

You leaned in to kiss him gently, feeling the connection between you deepen. “I’m grateful for you too, Spencer. This Christmas is already one of the best I’ve ever had, and it’s because you’re here.”

He returned the kiss, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Being with you, experiencing the warmth and love of your family, had opened his eyes to the possibilities of what life could be when shared with someone who truly cared.

As the night wore on, you and Spencer talked about everything and nothing, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. The city outside was alive with the sounds of the holiday season, but inside the hotel room, it felt like time had slowed down, leaving just the two of you to savor the moment.

“Goodnight, Spencer. I love you,” you said softly, slipping under the covers and curling up beside him.

“Goodnight,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Thank you for today.”

As sleep began to take hold, Spencer realized that he was no longer plagued by the anxieties that had haunted him the night before. Instead, he felt a deep sense of contentment and belonging, knowing that he was exactly where he was meant to be—with you.

—

The holidays had been a whirlwind of joy and laughter, each day unfolding with new experiences and moments of bonding that brought Spencer closer to your family. From playing with Coconut in the backyard to cozy evenings by the fire, the week had been a beautiful blend of warmth and happiness that Spencer had never quite experienced before.

On your last night at your family home, your dad approached Spencer with an unexpected invitation. "Hey, Spencer," he said with a friendly nod, "how about joining me for a drink on the back porch? It's a bit of a family tradition."

Spencer blinked in surprise, feeling both honored and slightly apprehensive. He had learned throughout the week that your dad was a man of deep wisdom and care, and being invited for a private conversation felt significant. As he followed your dad out to the back porch, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be the talk — the one where your dad would lay down the law about how he expected his daughter to be treated.

The night air was crisp and cool, stars twinkling overhead as Spencer and your dad settled into the comfortable chairs on the patio. Your dad handed Spencer a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light from the porch lamp.

"Thanks," Spencer said, taking the glass with a slight nod. He took a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through him, doing little to ease the nerves bubbling in his stomach.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the quiet hum of the neighborhood providing a peaceful backdrop. Spencer braced himself, expecting the shovel talk that he’d often seen dramatized in movies.

Finally, your dad turned to him, a gentle smile on his face. “Spencer, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he began, his tone thoughtful yet reassuring.

Spencer looked over, curious and slightly terrified. “Oh?” he replied, unsure of what to expect.

Your dad chuckled softly, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ve seen how you are with Y/N these past few days. The love and care you have for her is plain as day. And I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate that.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him.

“I know Y/N doesn’t need anyone to take care of her,” your dad continued, his voice steady and sincere. “She’s always been independent and strong, and I’ve never doubted her ability to stand on her own two feet. But it makes me happy to see that she has someone like you in her life—someone who clearly loves and respects her.”

Spencer was speechless, his mind racing to process the words. He had prepared himself for a stern lecture, but instead, he found himself enveloped in a warmth he hadn’t expected.

“Thank you,” Spencer finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. “That means a lot to me. More than I can express.”

Your dad nodded, his gaze steady and kind. “I know you didn’t have the best relationship with your own father,” he said, his tone gentle as he broached the sensitive subject. “But if you ever need someone to talk to, for advice or anything else, know that you can always come to me. You’re part of the family now.”

The offer left Spencer profoundly moved, a lump forming in his throat. He had never expected to find this kind of acceptance and support, especially from someone who barely knew him. The absence of a father figure in his life had always been a quiet ache, and here was an unexpected balm for that wound.

“I... I really appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never had someone I could go to for that kind of support. It means more than I can say.”

Your dad reached over, giving Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “We’re glad to have you with us, Spencer. You make Y/N happy, and that’s all a parent can really ask for.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of belonging that he hadn’t anticipated when he first arrived for the holidays. The conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected, filling him with a profound gratitude for the connection he was forming with your family.

They sat together for a while longer, exchanging stories and insights about life, relationships, and everything in between. As the evening deepened and the stars twinkled above, Spencer felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment.

Later, when he returned to the warmth of the house, he found you waiting in the living room, curiosity dancing in your eyes. “How was it?” you asked, a knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer smiled, his heart full. “It was... wonderful,” he said simply. “Your dad is amazing. I feel really lucky to have met all of you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I knew they’d love you, Spence. And I’m so glad you’re part of my life.”

He held you close, feeling the truth of your words settle deep in his heart. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly at home, surrounded by love and acceptance in a way that he hadn’t thought possible.

—

Later that night, Spencer found himself lying awake in the hotel room. The day's events played over and over in his mind, the words from your dad echoing with a resonance he hadn’t fully anticipated.  

You were already asleep beside him, your breath slow and steady, a comforting rhythm that usually soothed his racing thoughts. But tonight, Spencer felt a wave of emotion rising within him, a tide of feelings that he could no longer keep at bay.  

He had been holding it together all day, trying to process the overwhelming acceptance he had found in your family, the kind of love and support he had rarely experienced growing up. Now, in the quiet darkness of the room, the dam finally broke.  

Silent tears began to slip down his cheeks, tears of joy mixed with a deep, profound sense of healing. For the first time, Spencer allowed himself to feel the full weight of what he had been missing all these years—the absence of a father figure who cared, the lack of a family who embraced him fully and unconditionally.  

His younger self, the boy who had longed for approval and a sense of belonging, seemed to stir within him. Memories of lonely holidays and awkward family gatherings resurfaced, but they were now met with the warm, soothing balm of the acceptance he had found with your family.  

The tears continued to flow, and though they were born from happiness, they carried the weight of years of unspoken pain. Spencer turned slightly, trying to muffle his sobs against the pillow, not wanting to wake you. But the tears wouldn’t stop, and soon, the quiet sounds of his crying filled the room.  

You stirred beside him, sensing his distress even in your sleep. Blinking sleepily, you turned to him, concern immediately etching across your features as you registered the tears glistening in his eyes.  

“Spencer?” you whispered, your voice gentle and soothing as you reached out to touch his arm. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

He shook his head, trying to find the words to explain the cascade of emotions washing over him. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m just... overwhelmed, I guess.”

You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a comforting embrace. “Hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to apologize. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer took a shaky breath, trying to compose himself enough to explain. “It’s just... your dad, your family, everything,” he said, struggling to articulate the depth of his feelings. “I never expected to feel so accepted, so welcomed. It’s like... it’s like a part of me that’s been missing is finally starting to heal.”

Understanding dawned on you, and you held him tighter, your heart aching with empathy for the man you loved. “Oh, Spencer,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his words. “You deserve all of that and so much more. You’re part of our family now, and we love you for exactly who you are.”

He nodded, the tears flowing freely now as he allowed himself to fully embrace the reality of your words. The younger version of himself, the one who had always felt out of place, began to quiet, soothed by the knowledge that he was finally where he belonged. 

As he held onto this newfound sense of peace, Spencer whispered something he hadn’t quite had the courage to say before. “I love you,” he murmured, the words slipping out like a gentle exhalation of truth. 

You froze for a moment, not sure if you heard correctly. The quiet intensity in his voice seemed to linger in the air between you. “What was that?” you asked softly, wanting to be sure you had heard him right, a gentle smile starting to form on your lips.

Spencer met your eyes, his expression both tender and vulnerable. “I love you,” he repeated, a little louder this time, the conviction in his voice clear and unwavering. It was as though saying the words aloud had finally solidified them in his heart.

A warmth spread through you, a feeling of joy and completeness that you hadn’t realized you were longing for. You wrapped your arms around him tighter, your heart soaring at his heartfelt confession. 

“I love you too, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with sincerity and happiness. “So much.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, relief and joy mingling with the last traces of his tears. The weight of his past fears seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only the certainty of the moment and the bond you shared. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” Spencer admitted, his voice still a bit shaky from the emotional release. “But I was scared I wouldn’t be able to do it justice, to make you understand how much you mean to me.”

You reached up, gently cupping his face with your hand, your thumb brushing away the remnants of his tears. “You didn’t have to worry, Spencer. I’ve always known. Your actions speak louder than words, and I’ve felt your love in everything you do.”

He leaned into your touch, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and contentment. “You’ve changed my life in ways I never thought possible,” he said, his eyes locked onto yours with a sincerity that made your heart swell.

You smiled, feeling tears of your own threatening to spill over. “And you’ve changed mine,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Spencer let out a soft, shaky laugh, feeling lighter and more at peace than he had in years. He pulled you closer, reveling in the warmth and comfort of your embrace, knowing that this was where he was meant to be.

As the two of you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the love that bound you. Spencer realized that he was no longer defined by the loneliness of his past but by the connection and happiness he had found with you.

In that moment, he knew that the future was bright, filled with endless possibilities and the promise of shared adventures. With you by his side, Spencer felt ready to face whatever came next, secure in the knowledge that he was loved and accepted for exactly who he was.

As the night deepened and sleep finally began to claim you both, Spencer held onto the truth of his feelings, knowing that he had finally found the home he had always been searching for—in you.

—

The next morning dawned crisp and bright, with the sky painted in shades of soft pastels. As you packed up your belongings and prepared to head back home, there was a bittersweet feeling in the air. The holiday had been a whirlwind of joy and connection, and neither you nor Spencer was quite ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your family.  

As you made your way through the house, exchanging hugs and well-wishes, Spencer felt a familiar tug of anxiety mixed with gratitude. This time, however, the anxiety wasn’t accompanied by fear but by a deep appreciation for the acceptance he had found within your family.  

When it came time to say goodbye to your dad, Spencer found himself standing on the front porch, the crisp winter air wrapping around him. Your dad approached with a warm smile, extending his hand for a farewell shake.  

“It was great having you here, Spencer,” your dad said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

Spencer shook his hand, feeling the sincerity in your dad’s grip. “Thank you for everything, Bruce,” Spencer replied, his voice a little rough with emotion. “It’s been wonderful to be part of your family for the holidays.”

Your dad paused for a moment, then gave Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “you don’t have to call me Bruce anymore. Just call me Dad.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, a fresh wave of emotion washing over him. He felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, his heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and love. This simple gesture, this offer of familial connection, meant more to him than he could express.

“I... thank you, Dad,” Spencer managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Goodbye, Dad.”

Your dad gave him a nod, the look in his eyes filled with understanding and acceptance. “Take care of yourself, Spencer. And remember, if you ever need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

Spencer nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I will. Thank you.”

You watched the exchange with a full heart, knowing how much this meant to Spencer. As you wrapped up your goodbyes, you could see the mix of emotions playing across his face—the joy of being embraced by your family and the sadness of leaving it behind.

Once you were in the car, Spencer settled into the passenger seat, his mind still processing the weight of the morning’s farewell. He was quiet, lost in thought, and you could tell that he was holding back tears as he reflected on the kindness and acceptance he had been shown.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Spencer nodded, though his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Yeah, I just... I never expected any of this. It’s overwhelming, in a good way.”

You gave him a warm smile, understanding exactly what he meant. “Take your time. I’ll drive us to the airport.”

Spencer nodded gratefully, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself. You started the car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving the cozy warmth of your family home behind as you began the journey back to reality.

As you drove, Spencer gazed out the window, watching the landscape blur by. The silence in the car was comfortable, a space for him to gather his thoughts and emotions. He marveled at how much had changed in such a short time, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the love and acceptance he had found.

He reached over, intertwining his fingers with yours, feeling the warmth of your touch grounding him. “I never knew I could feel so... at home. You’ve given me something I didn’t even know I was missing.”

As you both made your way through the airport, ready to embark on the next chapter of your journey together, Spencer knew that whatever lay ahead, he was no longer alone. He had you by his side, a family that embraced him, and a heart full of love that would guide him every step of the way.

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

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 @asobeeee

[cardiac-agreste]

One thing I like to point out about this movie is that the Bailey business is a building and loan (B&L). These were a type of bank that was widespread before the Great Depression to help people finance home purchases.

Let's talk (American) terminology:

FDIC, NCUA: insurance that protects savings in bank accounts (FDIC) and credit unions (NCUA)

Building & Loan: An older form of a Savings & Loan.

Savings & Loan: A bank that is commonly owned by the people who have accounts there, and it's managed by a board of trustees who are typically elected by people who have accounts at the S&L. These are very commonly locally controlled and exist to serve a local community. George Bailey's father founded the bank and was chairman. Why did Mister Potter have power there? Because he had expertise in the banking industry, and probably no one else in town did (besides George's dad and brother). It makes sense you'd have a bank managed by banking experts.

When George's father dies, Potter wants to dissolve the B&L, and the other trustees are inclined to agree because there's no one else to run the thing. Give everyone back their money, sell the debt to other institutions, and shutter. Far better than running the bank into the ground with mismanagement and losing everyone's money.

But George volunteers to become the new man in charge. The trustees know George is just about the smartest youngster in town and would've grown up learning the ropes. They keep it open because George remains in town. Potter is understandably pissed because he wants to be the only one left in town.

Retail/Commercial Bank: A bank that primarily serves consumers (savings, checking, home loans, car loans). It is in contrast to an investment bank.

Investment Bank: A bank that primarily serves investors. In the US, the Glass-Steagall Act was passed in 1933 as a response to the Great Depression. It prevents commercial banks from investing its customers' funds (read: regular Joe's life savings) in risky speculations, because if they went under, the Federal government (via the FDIC) would be on the hook for a shitload of money, and pre-GD, Regular Joe would just go broke). Commercial bank stockholders: hurt a little after risky speculation with someone else's money, American taxpayers: hurt a lot.

Glass and Steagall were—surprisingly—two Southern Democrats (i.e., fiscal and social conservatives!).

Unfortunately, it was eventually repealed by the Gramm—Leach—Bliley Act (two Southern Republicans and an Iowan, i.e., three fiscal and social conservatives!) and the behest of lobbying firms representing the financial industry that gained so much power under the Reagan Admin. Bill Clinton, another Southerner (centrist by American standards, leftist by American conservative standards, right-wing by the rest of the world's standards) signed the law into office. You can draw a direct line from this repeal to the financial collapse of the early 21st century.

Anyway, B&Ls they got regulated during the Depression because so many of them went under due to financial mismanagement. This is what we see happening with the run on the Bailey B&L in the movie when George has to use his honeymoon savings to keep the bank from going under. Back then, if your bank went under, you lost all your savings.

Recall (as George says in the movie), that the bank doesn't have all the accounts in cash somewhere. You deposit money there, and they invest the money somewhere, and with credit unions it's in loans for people to buy homes and cars, inter alia.

That's why we now have the FDIC (for banks) and NCUA (for credit unions): so if your bank goes under, your savings are insured by the federal government up to a certain amount ($250,000 per person on the account—so, for example, my wife and I have a savings account at our local credit union, and savings up to half a million dollars is protected if the bank were to close down.

SO, they get regulated and become the S&L industry. We leave the movie behind so I'll summarize: in the 1980s and 90s, about a third of S&Ls go under due to runaway inflation, the Federal Reserve raising interest rates to curb inflation, and making borrowing out of reach for a lot of people, reducing the customer base of S&Ls and causing over a thousand to go out of business in less than a decade.

The FSLIC was the S&L version of the FDIC and NCUA, and it couldn't pay all the insurance obligations of these banks going under.

There was considerable fraud at various S&Ls that became apparent during the crisis. The most famous was when the so-called Keating Five (mostly Democrats), compelled by a wealthy Republican donor, pushed an investigation of Keating's S&L under the rug. Another was Neil Bush, son of the first President GHW Bush, brother of the second President GW Bush, and brother of Governor of Florida Jeb Bush.

SO this is a very, very long-winded way of saying the Bailey B&L might have gone out of business during the Reagan administration, aflame in scandal, and maybe one of his children went to prison for fraud. It's a wonderful life!

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946) • JIMMY STEWART as George Bailey and LIONEL BARRYMORE as Mr. Potter

[xoluvx]

scandal; b.eilish ❥₊ ⊹

𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 request: reader and billie doing it at a party and someone films and posts it and then they have to deal with everything like family, press

⋆˙⟡

"fuck," billie muttered waking you from your slumber. your eyelids fluttered opened as you felt her stir next to you. she snatched the covers from her body. feet planted on the ground. hand clinging to her phone as the images from last night flashed on the screen. she felt like she'd waken up in a nightmare. an evil twisted joke, mocking her as she paced back and forth.

"what's wrong?" you asked. your voice drowsy and laced with sleep. your eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the morning light. you sat up slowly, watching her pace back and forth as your arm clung to the comforter preventing it from falling down your naked frame.

"fuck. i'm so fucked. this can't be happening," she yelled tossing the phone on the bed where it landed near your arm. you flinched closing your eyes surprised by the sudden outburst. it was so unlike her. you'd never seen her like this. especially not directed at you. it felt personal. a tight feeling welled in your chest as your eyes filled with tears unable to comprehend what was happening. you weren't sure why she was acting this way. you weren't sure why she'd tossed her phone. she wasn't answering your questions. 'what's wrong? talk to me? what happened?'

then you heard it. the same music that'd been playing the previous night. the same song that'd been playing when-

you looked down at the phone. the video that was playing hit you like a ton of bricks. you watched it all the way through before it looped. the song repeating. the familiar moans ringing in your ears. the image was hazy and zoomed in, but it was her. dark hair falling down her shoulders. the same baseball cap she was photographed with that night. it was her body pressed on yours. your thigh draped around her waist. your skirt hiked up. her fingers in your pussy. her body lowering. her face buried between your thighs.

you'd been tipsy, but the video sobered the memory.

"please," billie whispered in your ear. her hands cupping your ass, pulling up your skirt along the way. you felt flushed by her flustered state, puling down on your skirt. you could feel the sudden breeze. your whole ass would've been exposed if you didn't keep your hand on the hem of your skirt as your needy girlfriend clung to your waist, hands groping your ass every few seconds.

"i need you so bad, baby" billie hummed pressing her nose to your cheek. her lips parted on your skin as her warm breath trickled down the side of your neck covering your body with goosebumps. you felt the familiar tingling between your legs. you felt it every time she talked to you in that tone. hell, you felt it every time she talked to you at all.

"someone might see us," you breathed gripping her shoulders as her body pressed on yours, pushing you back until your back was flushed against the wall of the empty hallway. the music was bumping downstairs as your bodies stood in the dimly lit space. billie sighed. tongue running along the shell of your ear, nibbling gently before approaching every door in that hallway. locked. they were all fucking locked.

"please, please, please," she begged as she returned to spot where you stood. she grabbed your thighs, pleading with her words, with her eyes, with her touch. she was desperate. hands covering every surface of your body. she was breathing in your ear. the weight of her body pushing you against the wall once again. her thigh wedging between your legs. her hands lost under your skirt. fingertips grazing along your lacy underwear. she slipped her fingers between your thighs without a protest. your heavy breathing and grip on her shoulders were encouraging enough.

when you bucked your hips, she smirked and moaned. fingers slipping inside your pussy as you swallowed them. clenching around her digits. tossing your head back nearly standing on your tippy toes. her hand moved sloppily, but she curled her fingers so marvelously. she filled you so gloriously. you were soaked. sloshing on her digits as she scrunched her face and bit her lip burying her fingers so deep in your cunt she had no where else to go, but down.

you watched her get on her knees. your hand landing on top of her head as she hiked your leg draping it over her shoulder. you pushed your hips off the wall giving her the perfect angle to rest comfortably. despite both your tipsy states, her tongue found your clit almost instantly and without hesitation. she knew your body better than you did. tongue moving in circular motions then flicking then flat as her fingers pumped and curled. lips sucking on your clit. legs quivering on her shoulder as the cap fell off her head and you gripped her hair pushing her face closer to your cunt as you felt the fiery heat spark between your legs.

your body was caving as she sucked on your clit and her fingers got lost in your pussy. your cries were caught in your throat as you fisted her hair prohibiting her from moving. you struggled to breath as your chest tightened and your legs quivered. you were whimpering. moaning her name. urging her to make you cum and when you were close, she was begging you to cum. she demanded you cum on her tongue and you did. you unraveled on her tongue dripping down her chin as she gulped every drop. chin glistening as she stood.

you wiped the remains of your orgasm from her chin as she pulled down your skirt and adjusted your underwear. she picked up her hat placing it on her head as you fixed her hair. your eyes met in a fit of giggles at the realization of what you'd just done.

and now the realization that you hadn't been alone was creeping into your body and crawling under skin. you felt dirty and violated. the hot tears were now streaming down your face as the video played on a loop until billie snatched the phone and turned it off. her body was filled with anger until she heard your quiet sobs. her face relaxed and her shoulders slumped when she became aware of her selfishness. she'd only been thinking about herself and how this was going to affect her. she hadn't thought about the other person in the video. her very important person. a person who still wasn't used to her fame.

"come here," she whispered fixing her body so she could cradle yours. she held you in her arms as you cried softly into the nook of her neck. she wasn't sure how she was going to get out of this. wasn't sure how she would explain this. how she could make it go away, but she wanted to. she needed to. for you.

"what are we gonna do?" your voice was shaky as unfurled for your body looking up at her face. you saw a gentle expression in her features as she cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your warm skin.

"you let me worry about that, okay? everything is going to be okay. i promise," she whispered with an uncertainty in her voice that was so painfully obvious. she kissed the top of your head attempting to calm your nerves as she stared off into space uncertain of how she'd make it go away. she was certain her phone was blowing up right now. certain everyone had seen the video.

she could already picture her family freaking out. her parents lecturing her. finneas trying to comfort her through the scandal. claudia holding your hands through it all. she could already read the headlines. she drafted every last one in her mind as she held you and as you clung to her body burying your face in her warm chest. you listened to the soft beating of her heart and her gentle breathing.

at least here you were untouchable; if it only it were that simple.

⋆˙⟡

what happened after

[rafedarling]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

pairing: husband!rafe cameron x wife!reader

summary: rafe cameron was your everything, your husband, the man who once promised to love and cherish you unconditionally. despite your inability to speak, rafe always treated you as though the world revolved around you. but your perfect life comes crashing down on an ordinary monday when you…

warning(s): reader in this fic are mute, so if you felt uncomfortable please click back, will see you on jan 9. infidelity, emotional distress, angst.

must read: italic mean sign language.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. i don’t know but this idea came up after i went to the toilet 🫠 i’m tagging no one since i’m writing this for fun and might deleted if i felt it’s needs to be remove and hope you enjoy!! 🌟 . taglist | ask

Just like any other Monday. You were sitting on the edge of your bed you reached for your phone to check the time. That’s when you saw it… a text message from an unknown number.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the notification. You weren’t one to invade someone’s privacy, even Rafe’s, but something about this felt… off. When you finally opened it, your entire world shattered.

The message began with ‘Hi, I’m Sofia. I didn’t want to do this, but I think you deserve to know.’

You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as you continued reading. Sofia laid everything out; dates, times, even explicit details. She wasn’t apologetic; her tone carried the confidence of someone who knew she had already won.

Sofia wasn’t just anyone.

She was the friend Rafe had introduced you to months ago, the one he’d reassured you was “just a friend.” She was gorgeous, effortlessly confident, and everything you weren’t.

Most painfully, she could speak.

The betrayal hit you like a tidal wave. You stared at your phone, your breath hitching your so tight you couldn’t even breath.

You wanted to scream, cry, or yell so badly but you couldn’t. That had always been your curse your inability to voice your pain.

Instead, you stormed downstairs, gripping your phone tightly. Rafe sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

When he saw you, his face lit up.

“Morning, babe,” he said casually, his tone warm and easy.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you slammed your phone onto the table, the screen still displaying Sofia’s message. His eyes flicked to the text, and the color drained from his face.

“What”

He reached for the phone, but you yanked it away, glaring at him as your hands began to move.

“Who is Sofia? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Babe, it’s not”

“Don’t!” you signed sharply, your movements quick and angry.

“Do not call me that right now. Answer the question. Who is Sofia?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his hand raking through his hair.

“She’s… She’s no one. She doesn’t mean anything.”

So you admit it happened.

“I—” He faltered, his eyes pleading.

“It was a mistake, okay? A stupid mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”

You stepped back, shaking your head as tears burned your eyes.

“How could you?” you signed, your movements slower now, weighed down by heartbreak.

“I trusted you. I loved you. Was that a mistake too?”

“No!”

Rafe’s voice cracked, and he took a step toward you, his hands reaching out as if to ground you.

“It wasn’t a mistake. You weren’t a mistake. I swear. You’re my everything.”

“Clearly not,” you signed, bitterness dripping from your fingers. If I was, you wouldn’t have done this.

He pressed his palms against his temples, exhaling shakily.

“I don’t know why I did it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was stupid, I was feeling… I don’t know, lonely?”

“Lonely?” Your hands froze mid-motion, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You think I don’t feel lonely? I live in silence, Rafe. Every day. And yet I stayed. I fought for us. But you…” You stopped, your chest heaving as fresh tears slid down your cheeks.

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking.

“I know, and I hate myself for it. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough?” you signed, your movements trembling.

“What does she have that I don’t?”

Rafe looked devastated, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Nothing,” he said firmly.

“She doesn’t have anything you don’t. You’re everything to me.”

“Clearly not enough for you to keep your promises.”

He stepped closer, his voice urgent. “Please, don’t leave.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking into a million pieces. The Rafe standing before you now was a shadow of the man you thought you knew, and yet, his desperation was tangible. Part of you wanted to believe him, to cling to the love you’d shared for so long. But the pain was too raw, the betrayal too fresh.

You wiped your tears, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Rafe called, his voice shaking as he followed you.

“Where are you going?”

You paused, turning to meet his tear-filled eyes. Your hands moved slowly, deliberately, as you signed one final word

“Away.”

“Don’t,” he begged, his voice breaking.

“Please, give me one last chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you opened the door and stepped out of the door, leaving Rafe behind.

But this time, love wasn’t enough.

And for the first time in years, the silence between you felt unbearable.

[werevampiwolf]

Yeah. At 19, I was finally diagnosed with autism and as unable to live independently without years of occupational therapy and my mother said "fuck that" and threw me out of the house two days later. She'd fought the doctors my entire life to stopbe from being diagnosed, because then that would mean there was something "wrong" with me.

I was homeless for over a year. I'm no longer homeless, mostly due to getting very very lucky with circumstances outside my control (like the fact that I was young enough and had been homeless long enough while continuing to take classes at the local community college to qualify for a government grant for Unaccompanied Homeless Youth, which allowed me to get an apartment. And i was only able to take classes because I was poor enough that the classes were free, and because i had a broken laptop and it never got stolen AND i already knew how to fix computers so I was about to Franken-Computer it into it being and staying at least slightly usable AND the fact that the nearest Starbucks was understanding and didn't throw me out or call the cops when I spent hours in there to do coursework), so my mother takes this as a win. Obviously, the doctor must have been wrong because when I was forced to sink or swim, I've stayed alive (very literally in this case).

I would argue that even now, going on a decade later, I'm not so much "living on my own" as I am "barely surviving", but I try to make it very clear, both to her and to people I tell this story to, that the problem with "Sink or Swim" is that people who sink fucking DROWN.

Because even as someone who was forced, and who managed to just barely keep my head above the water... I'm a very staunch opponent to the idea of Sink or Swim. What I had to live through was horrible, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. But not only that, I was very acutely aware that my only options were to figure it out or to quite literally Die.

As someone who survived the extreme of the other side of this coin that OP is talking about... the idea that I or anyone else could manage to survive such circumstances and then turn around and insist that the ends justify the means is both baffling and appalling to me, though I know that it very much happens. I cannot see it as anything other than "I suffered, so you should have to suffer too." It's awful to be on either side of this coin, and if you think it's okay for force people to Sink or Swim, whether you've been in that situation or not, than you can fuck right off with that shit.

Side note, I'm someone with support needs on the higher end of medium. I still can't manage to brush my teeth independently, and I don't manage to feed myself consistently, though I at least manage to do it often enough to get enough calories in me to stay alive (and that's ignoring anything other than calories that make up a healthy and balanced diet, because that's not an option for me. It's eat whatever junk food I manage to get into my my mouth or starve). I have to rely on schedules, because my brain doesn't really understand what hunger feels like. I just eventually feel like I'm going to throw up, and if I'm lucky, my brain figures out that I haven't eaten in all day and that's probably why. But there are days when, even if you put a plate of food in front of me, it wouldn't occur to me to eat it. I will just sit there and stare at it (or into space) without outside promoting to eat. I maybe manage to take out the trash or do laundry every two weeks if I lucky, and sometimes it's only once a month, or less. I have plastic bottles that haven't been taken out in at least six months, and probably closer to a year. Perhaps the only reason I can see the other side of this coin is because I basically live as close to edge as is physically possible without going over the edge, but I really hope that's not it. I don't think people should have to be constantly teetering on the knife-edge of this reality to understand that It's Really Fucking Bad to force people to Sink or Swim, or as I prefer to call it, Survive Or Die.

I don’t think people understand how it is to have been behind on EVERY milestone. Learning how to walk? Late. Learning to read? Late. Learning to use the bathroom independently? Late. Every single milestone was late.

And when you have this, people ask questions. People bully you. Why can’t you shower by yourself at 9,10,15,20? Why can’t you brush your teeth independently and frequently? Why can’t you tie your shoes? Why can’t you do math? Why can’t you do this, or that.

And then there’s the people on social media. “Well I was forced to.” “Well I didn’t have a choice” and that’s understandable and completely valid, but there are people that no matter how much you force them, or neglect them so they “figure it out” they won’t “figure it out”. They’ll die. They’ll starve. They’ll not bathe and be dirty.

Higher support needs people don’t just “figure it out” our brains are wired differently. Our brains don’t get that we HAVE to do these things just to survive. So we don’t. And that sucks.

It’s disheartening to constantly hear people say “well i was forced to” because so was I!! I was forced to do things too! I was neglected too! And guess what? I still didn’t do those things. I STILL wasn’t able to meet those milestones.

The big one that I see is “well I’m forced to talk.” And I get that, but me, a person that’s nonverbal, can’t be forced to talk. No matter if I’m neglected, no matter if my device is taken away or I have no way of communication. I still wouldn’t be able to talk. I CANNOT force myself to talk. Get that through your heads. This is my reality, and although yours sucked there are still some people who cannot do things, and saying that they could if they were “forced” is invalidating of them.

[the-odd-shu]

Fluffy scenarios for clear skin

Another Lab Illustrator Reader installation!

Masterlist

Previous:

Characters: Jayce, Viktor, Gender Neutral Reader (Reader uses they/them pronouns)

Established: Jayce/Viktor/Reader (POLYCULLLEEE)

Reader to Jayce: Do you ever look at Viktor when he's thinking and want to kiss every inch of his face?

Jayce taking a slow sip from his hot drink: No. I think he would bite me if I tried.

Reader: Maybe. But whenever he pouts, his eyes go all thoughtful and distant, and I can hardly control myself.

Jayce: Please continue to control yourself. I don't want to have to write an accident report because you lost a nose.

Reader sighs again: Would you bite my nose off if I kissed every inch of your face instead?

Jayce no-rizz Talis then proceeds to choke and nearly perish on his drink.

In summary, Reader's partners sometimes give them cuteness aggression.

Just the image of Viktor doing that adorable pouting face, and Reader calmly setting down their pen, getting up, crossing over to Jayce's desk to get rid of their cuteness aggression via kisses on poor Jayce instead.

I kind of like the idea of them doing this instead of crowding Viktor when he's clearly trying to think. Whereas Jayce is just constantly on the look out for touch and validation, so it works out great for him. He melts under the attention, more than happy to put his notes aside for a moment in favour of a rather lovely excuse for a break.

They're quiet about it, but sometimes the movement will pull Viktor out of his musings regardless, and he'll just frown at the pair of them acting like idiots.

And if he insinuates he's feeling a little left out, you bet Reader is going to calmly drag him close and touch temples with him - a deeply personal Zaunite display of affection - which would have a whole new adorable expression appearing on Viktor's face and would send Reader IMMEDIATELY into going back to attack Jayce instead of smothering to poor, overwhelmed man.

In a similar vein of thinking, it would definitely be manadatory for Reader to give into it, just once.

Maybe Jayce is conveniently out of the room, and maybe Viktor is just RIGHT THERE, PLAINLY in sight. And maybe, just this once they SIMPLY CANNOT contain themselves. Viktor is right there and they're not getting any work done because they can't tear their eyes off him.

So they give in, and pepper Viktor's adorable pout with kisses. And the man is just BAFFLED! It takes him a moment to understand what is happening, and then he's letting out flustered strings of words in both his mother's tongue and Piltovern Common, and he's shoving them away by their cheeks.

Reader of course isn't deterred, and just ends up grabbing the hand to kiss his knuckles. Viktor glares down at them with a look of resignation and burning red ears.

Jayce comes in like: what did I miss.

Reader: Turns out he doesn't bite.

Viktor: Not yet. Don't tempt me.

Jayce is rewarded with a forehead touch for simply existing that time round - the significance is not lost on him and he feels touched.

Viktor's that choatic boyfriend that hears you complaining about a colleague one too many times, and then proceeds to inconvenience them in the most subtle and irritating way known to man, all whilst giving you a shit-eating little smirk as he sits back and watches the world burn.

"That fucker giving you trouble Darling? No worries, I stole all of his left socks and buried them in the staff room plant pot after hours."

"They said what about Jayce?" A beat of silence.

"Viktor?! Where are you going with that washing up liquid."

"Nowhere." Very obviously makes his way to the kitchen.

Said co-worker that was talking shit then begins complaining that every cup of coffee they make tastes like soap!

Someone talks shit about their partners:

Jayce 'can we talk about this' Talis: "here is a thirty page essay as to why you're wrong, and I have a PowerPoint slide prepared with additional evidence if you will please take a seat and allow me to reeducate you."

Viktor who will resort to psychological warfare to get his point across correcting them, whilst also blatantly gaslighting them into believing that Jayce and Reader can do no wrong, and they were in fact crazy for insinuating such cruel things about either of them to begin with.

Reader who stabs first with their artist-grade scalpel, and asks questions when they're incapacitated and bleeding out on their floor: "Say that again, to my face this time. Go on, I dare you."

(There is a reason why Jayce and Viktor ((the pacifists)) do not teach Reader how to use any of the hextech devices. They will commit murder and refuse to regret it whilst Jayce sweats bullets and Viktor stares on, mouth aghast by the sheer brutality of said murder).

"He deserved it," Reader will explain simply.

And Viktor will go, "perhaps, BUT YOU COULD HAVE LEFT HIS HEAD ATTACHED!"

Jayce who's trauma raises its head when his partners are cold. Blankets. Warm drinks. Heating on full blast. That snow storm did a number on him and he HATES the winter because of it.

Are you shivering? Is Viktor? No stress, he shall simply have to BECOME the blanket to keep you both alive and well. It is as sweet as it is heartbreaking.

Viktor who's upbringing in Zaun sometimes makes him precious with food. Not because he was starving, but because sometimes he couldn't have as much food as he wanted, simply because money was tight growing up.

Maybe he has a sweet treat, and ends up breaking it into threes to share with you and Jayce.

Maybe there's only one tea bag left, so he settles for water, despite having REALLY wanted that cup of warm tea.

Maybe he's waiting for seconds for dinner, but there's only enough left for two more portions, so he says he's not hungry anymore.

Viktor who will sometimes feel the gnaw of hunger but make a hot drink to soothe his stomach instead of actually eating something, because its only so far into the day, and if he doesn't eat now, then he won't be as hungry later-

Safe to say, his partners notice. And Jayce keeps the kitchenette well stocked with drinks and snacks alike, whilst Reader will stop by a bakery or cafe in the morning to bring him a proper breakfast, as well as breakfast for themselves and Jayce so he doesn't feel like he HAS to share.