#and there's no escaping it despite how Hard i try to be happy

[tklpilled]

mualani tilts her head, bouncing on her toes. "so, ajaw..." she has that look of faux innocence, one that lets kinich know that she's up to something—something he decidedly wants no part of. "you know a lot about kinich, don't you?"

ajaw groans. "unwillingly. i try not to pay attention to him." it shoots him a glare, as though trying to rile him up, but as usual, it has no effect.

mualani giggles. "well, i actually wanted to know about his weaknesses."

this gets ajaw's attention. it perks up instantly, hurrying closer to mualani. "what, you want a list? i could come up with one for you. he doesn't like water, to start."

she waves her hands in front of her. "no, no, i meant—huh?" she turns to kinich, who is trying to act like he's not associated with either of them; which doesn't fool anyone, considering there's no one else around. "you don't like water?"

kinich crosses his arms, turning his head away. "only when it comes to drinking it. it's bland and tasteless."

mualani giggles. "well, let's trade then. i'll drink your water if you drink my milk, how's that?" she returns her attention to ajaw. "but, anyway, i meant more like..." she taps her fingers together, thinking. "he's always so composed, you know? i want something that'll make him break, i guess."

kinich really doesn't like this now. he's not sure what ajaw will say, but whatever it is, it can't be good. "don't—"

"hmmmm..." ajaw flits around kinich, studying him with narrowed eyes. "that's a hard one. sometimes i wonder if he even has emotions."

mualani walks over to join it. with two pairs of eyes boring into him, kinich squirms uncomfortably, his skin prickling.

"break his legs," ajaw suggests, "that's gotta make him cry. let me watch."

"i'd...rather not hurt him," mualani rubs the back of her neck.

"boring!" cries ajaw, rolling its eyes. "what's the point, then?"

kinich shuffles away, trying to escape from the two of them, but it's not easy when they're both focused entirely on him. "this is stupid. let's go."

"i know!" exclaims ajaw, almost excited, and an uneasy feeling churns in kinich's gut. he really doesn't like where this is heading. "if you don't wanna hurt him, just tickle him."

kinich's eyes widen and he swats ajaw away. "i'm not ticklish. that's pointless."

ajaw flickers away from his hand. "nuh uh! hey, mualani, just go for his—"

"go to hell," hisses kinich, cheeks colouring despite his attempts to repress it. he manages to finally get rid of ajaw, for now, at least. he turns back to mualani, who has a terrifyingly mischievous glint in her eyes.

"you're ticklish?"

"no." he tries to back away, but she only follows him.

she reaches for him, then, latching on to his sides just above his hips. he wants to struggle, to jump away and never show his face again, but he likes her and she looks so damn excited about this. too happy for someone who's about to torment him.

and he laughs. he can't help it, with the way her thumbs are kneading at the clusters of nerves at his hipbones. he tries, briefly, to hold it in, but it all comes rushing out faster than he can do anything about it. he tries to push her hands away as his knees buckle, but his strength is being sapped away from him, so instead he just grabs at handfuls of grass, getting dirt under his nails. all his senses are screaming at him to make it stop.

but, even though kinich is the one being tickled, mualani's smile rivals his. she fawns over him and teases him and every word from her mouth is making him feel like he's on fire.

an irritatingly familiar voice chimes in from above. "eh, cute's not the word i'd use to describe him. but if you make him laugh until he dies, i can't complain."

"f-fuhuhuck ohohoff!" kinich cries, desperate and overwhelmed, but mualani keeps tickling and she keeps teasing and it's all so much, way too much.

but if it keeps mualani grinning like that, he thinks he can grow to like it.

[fadedtoneverland]

“don’t worry, darling”

❤︎ synopsis — after a scary close call at the ateez send off, your boyfriend takes you back to his hotel to take care of your needs

pairing: idol!yeosang x fem!reader

theme: fluff ✿, smut ❣︎

a/n: yayyy first request!! i’m rlly happy it’s with yeosang too because this boy deserves more love! ateez is also my current ult group, so i hope you enjoy! this was requested via dms by @yeosangcutie0615

cw: brief mentions of panic attacks. soft top! yeosang. bottom!reader. pet names (darling, babe, pretty girl, princess, good girl). praise kink (?). vaginal fingering. squirting.

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

“it’s okay, darling. i’m here now.”

the world was hazy all around you. there were the faint sounds of frantic movements into a room, with the noise of your own heavy breathing assaulting the rest of your senses.

tight. the air was thin around you. it was almost as if your own body was trying to suffocate you, your lungs feeling like they were working overtime with how heavily you were breathing. it was painful, and utterly terrifying.

but the sound of that sweet, princely voice kept you grounded, the anchor that you needed to bring you back to reality.

“look at me, princess.” tender fingers gently caressed your face and shifted your gaze to those soft, puppy-like eyes that you remembered falling in love with all over again. yeosang was patient with you, guiding your body through these agonizing ministrations that coiled tightly around your throat.

“there you go..” yeosang hummed softly, gently wrapping his arms around your trembling form, and soothing you to a slower, more steady breathing pattern.

the concert tonight was rough for you. as the partner of kang yeosang, you got the luxury of seeing your boyfriend up close with free access to the pit, straight to barricade with the glory of your beautiful man performing like it was his last night. while it was fun, and quite the sight, the fans around you unfortunately didn’t understand proper concert etiquette. they’d shove, and push, completely disregarding your own protests and cries for help in favor of drooling over your man.

not only was it insulting, you couldn’t even say anything. what could you say over the loud music of guerilla?

you could feel the pressure only build up during the rest of the night. the straw really broke on the camel’s back at send off, when a fan oh-so rudely shoved your body hard against the barricade to try and get a peep at choi san, which made your already quivering body snap, and send you to a full blown panic attack.

luckily, there were medical professionals on standby, and yeosang got to leave early to take you back to his hotel room once you got the help you needed, leading to now… with you still feeling the effects of your panic attack buzzing.

“mmh.. that’s it.. it’s okay..” yeosang’s voice was instantly grounding you. that rich, deep sound slowly bringing you back to reality. coupled with his soft hands caressing your back, your body was soon lulled back into a more proper condition, and your heart rate finally evened out, chest still sore from the tightness it felt earlier.

“feeling better, princess?” he hummed lovingly, and your hazy, bloodshot eyes met his. despite just having recovered so quickly, you quickly answered.

“mhm.” you nodded. a soft sound of contentness escaped your lips as yeosang’s fingers carded through your hair, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. and those damned puppy eyes just never left your own.

he looked so in love with you at the moment.

“i’m so sorry about those people, pretty,” yeosang apologized while pulling you into an embrace. he didn’t even have anything to apologize for, but he did anyways. “if it was up to me, i’d have them banned all from coming to any of our concerts.”

you chuckled. “that’s very sweet, yeo. but i’m fine now, thanks to you and the medics. don’t worry.”

yeosang shook his head.

“i know.. i just can’t help but feel bad.” he whined, you could proactively hear the pout in his tone of voice. you loved it when yeosang got all soft and vulnerable around you.

“i can’t stand the thought of my pretty girl suffering like that.”

pretty girl.

his pretty girl.

that did something to you.

yeosang’s head dipped from your face to between your jawline and shoulder, nuzzling into your neck and gently kissing the skin there. the action was so innocent, but it made your own breath hitch. curse yeosang and his incredibly natural ability to make you feel so hot and bothered.

sensing your tenseness, he kissed your neck again, this time more insistent. “at least let me make it up to you somehow, princess. whatever you want..”

that proposition was tempting. knowing yeosang, he probably would keep insisting until you gave in, and judging by how he was kissing your neck, you had a pretty good idea on where this was heading.

but damn it all, it was so hot.

gently massaging your fingers into his caramel brown locks, before gripping a fistful and gently tugging his head up to meet your gaze, yeosang gasped softly at the feeling, and you smirked at the expression he made.

“what did you have in mind, babe?”

—

if you having panic attacks led to the outcome of your ridiculously pretty boyfriend fingering you like crazy, then maybe you wouldn’t mind them so much.

“a-ah god—“ you gasped softly, biting your lip while yeosang breathed heavily into your ear, feeling turned on just from your moans alone.

“that’s it, pretty girl..” yeosang groaned deeply, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “you’re doing so good for me.”

yeosang had you propped up against the headboard of his hotel bed, one hand softly parting your bare thighs, while the other was focused on working his fingers expertly into your pretty cunt. yeosang aimed to please, he was a giver at heart. your pleasure was his pleasure, and his fingers scissored skillfully inside of your velvety walls.

you couldn’t help the high-pitched moans and gasps that escaped your rosy lips, especially when your man just knew how to make you feel this good. it was like heaven, and you couldn’t get enough of it. weakly clutching his white tank top, you moaned softly while your thighs trembled, and instinctively closed around his legs.

“y-yeosang—!” you cried out softly, your moans silenced when yeosang’s lips crashed against yours, swallowing any sort of pleasures noise you made. the whining only got louder when yeosang’s fingers curled inside your wet pussy to rub against your g-spot, and then he started to relentlessly abuse that spot with his fingers.

yeosang chuckled into your lips as he rubbed against that spot. his jeans felt impossibly tighter, and his raging boner was almost painful, but the sounds of your moans washed away any thought of his own pleasure, solely focused on you and your needs.

“such a good girl for me,” yeosang whispered breathlessly into your ear, sounding heavenly. “my good girl.”

he sped up his finger movements, and soon all logic was lost. you couldn’t resist the scream that tore from your throat, and your hands flew to tug at yeosang’s soft hair, all while he relentlessly fingered you, the lewd squelching sounds serving to heighten your arousal.

“b-babe— i’m- i’m close,” you whimpered, eyes rolling back slightly into your skull. “i’m gonna come-!”

yeosang chuckled at this, and fully thrust his fingers inside of your glistening pussy.

“then cum for me, darling.”

that’s all it took for the knot in your stomach to snap, but you felt something else in you break as you orgasmed. your body convulsed hard, and a clear, glistening liquid shot out of your wet hole like a jet, wetting the bedsheets a lot more than usual. your eyes widened at the sight, and so did yeosang’s, but your body couldn’t stop, and yeosang’s fingers just kept guiding you through your climax until you were a trembling, panting mess on your idol boyfriend’s bed.

after a few moments, yeosang took in a deep breath, and pulled out his fingers from your cunt, flexing them to see the sticky ateinfs of your essence left behind. chuckling and wiping it on the sheets, yeosang’s lips then hovered over your ear.

“didn’t know you could squirt like that, babe.” he teased, and you felt yourself turn even more red at this. you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully.

“shut up.” you retorted. yeosang laughed.

“hey, i’m just saying! it was pretty hot too.”

you hummed at this, and let out a soft sigh of contentness when yeosang’s arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a spooning position, resting his chin on the top of your head.

he then shifted his face to plant a kiss on the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair and breathing in your scent.

“feeling better now?” yeosang asked while pulling you against his chest.

you hummed and nuzzled into his body, resting your hand against his chest.

“mhm.”

and yeosang smiled at this, knowing his pretty girl was happy now because of him.

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

[hazmatazz]

google.. how to stop. anxiety..

[silverselfshippingchaos]

goodnight gamers!

[suits-of-woe]

you can tell i'm too deep into shakespeare studies because i've started developing a mental list of plays that are not good, not bad, but interestingly bad maybe on purpose in a way that makes them somehow loop back around to being good

[finalhaunts]

Siigghh

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Despite Danny's best efforts, no matter how much time past, Amity Park refused to see Phantom as a hero.

Sure, there were pockets of support, particularly among teens, but most of the town blames Phantom for the property damage, saying if he didn't fight the ghosts then it wouldn't be so bad, to that time he got mind controlled by Freakshow and "attacked" the mayor. It wears him down. It wears Tucker and Sam down. Jazz can only try to support them all.

Then one day, a member of the Justice League visits. Someone minor, and kinda a jerk... maybe a Wonder Twin? Zan? Whatever. They don't investigate; they don't look deeper. They listen to the town folks and declare the ghost hunters, Red Huntress and the Fentons, to be the official heroes of the town.

Worse? Danny Phantom is officially considered a villain to the Justice League. Tuck hacks into the Watchtower and confirms that they have a file (a heavily inaccurate file) about how to defeat Phantom.

Danny doesn't think he can do this anymore.

A few weeks later, a young villain escapes into Amity and demands (begs) that Danny help them escape from the hero after them. No idea who, I can't find a lot of info on teen villains in DC, so let's fudge some ages and make it Kyd Wyckyd from the Teen Titans cartoon. Danny agrees, because to hell with the Justice Losers, and they defeat the hero, becoming friends in the process. Kyd confesses that they became a villain after being ostracized bc of how they look, and they've been trying to avoid villain organizations because HIVE was abusive, but it's really hard to be a villain alone bc of all the heroes.

Sam gets an idea. Tucker agrees with the idea. Jazz is just happy they'll end up making friends.

The next day, the Teen Villain Alliance is formed, ready to assist with any teenage illegal shenanigans their allies might get into.

Some notes:

It's created to be a healthier option for teen "villains" to connect with others and support each other.

It's more important that this is for Teens rather than Villains. They're tired of adult villains taking advantage of them. The TVA would rather ally with a teen vigilante than with an adult villain.

Again, no idea who the teen villains are, but Klarion is definitely here. He leaves the Light for the chaos of the TVA. Maybe Ember is there too?

Timeline wise, this is around when Tim is still Robin, but Damien has arrived at Wayne Manor.

This is because, when it comes time to try to infiltrate the TVA, they'll have a convenient child-assassin who has none of the monitors of a teen hero that Phantom immediately picks up on.

Damien, who at this point has been abandoned by his mother, dismissed and scolded by his father, and has had no success at carving his own place in the family, jumps at the chance. He is then surrounded by peers who don't insult him or try to change his behavior (too much; jazz is trying to help him find healthier methods of expressing himself). He... might not want to continue being a spy.

Danny, Sam, Tuck, and Jazz are the founding members.

Danny reinvents himself as the High Prince of the Infinite, Prince Phantom Dark. He got kingship from fighting Pariah Dark, but since he's still alive, he's only a prince. He steals the last name Dark as an intimidation tatic against those in the know; only Danny would have the balls to claim family with Pariah.

Sam works as a powerless villain, but she might no be powerless? Either way, Danny gives her a bunch of repurposed Fenton tech, and she buys the rest with her parents credit card. She does NOT care if that's traced back to the Mansons. She would choose something goth, maybe something spider related or even bat?

I love Pharaoh Tucker, so I think he should get magic powers? Since pharaohs of old were considered the balance between the real and the divine. He's still a tech guy, now he's a tech and magic guy.

Jazz isn't really a villain, more of a team mom who's planning on using everyone's psyche's as her thesis paper. You know what, that's her callsign, she's Psyche. Sometimes she flirts with Nightwing.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW Reaction to You Taking the BDSM Test

Warnings: Implied Smut, MW Characters Being Down Bad & Feral, Mean! MW, Rough! MW, Dominant! MW, Submissive! MW, Teasing, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Ghost

His laugh is gruff from over your shoulder. A glower, if you listen closely enough. His hands, rough and calloused with the weight of his atrocities, clamp down on your shoulders. He squeezes them. Tight. Tighter.

“You don’t need a test to find out what you’re into, Love.”

He stands closer. From your position on the couch, you can feel something hard pressing between your shoulder blades. He rolls against you, his grip tightening. You whimper, wince, and he lets go a hum.

His hands drop from your shoulders to the front of your shirt. There, he grips the seam and rips it open. You jump, gasping, the buttons flying off into god-knows where — corners of the room, pinging off furniture.

His hands are on your chest, kneading, needing. He’s rough. He needs you now — he can’t even stop to remember to be gentle.

“I can do that,” he lowers his lips to your ear. His breath is hot.

“And more.”

König

König had sat with you while you took the test, curious to see what you’d choose — what your heart truly desired.

Of course, despite how close the two of you were, you did try to retain what little of your dignity you could by choosing answers that didn’t make you look insane. Or nymphomanic.

Little did you know that König could see right through you, his lips stretching into a smile whenever he saw your fingers itching to choose the highest values for kinks he absolutely knew you had (whether you were aware of his knowing or not).

When the test was over and you got your results, you thought you’d walked it. “See?” You showed your results to König. “Told you I wasn’t into anything—“ you searched for the term he’d used. “Extreme.”

“Oh, Maus,” König said, almost growling. Purring, perhaps. His eyes were narrowed, feline. “We both know that’s not true.”

König took your phone and placed it somewhere out of your reach. Frozen with anticipation, you gave no fight as König took you by your shoulders and laid you down, pressing you into the floor. He brought his thighs over you, caged you beneath him. His hands either side of your head, he smiled.

“You needn’t be evasive with me, Darling.” His hips dipped down. Something hard pressed against your abdomen. König’s eye twitched. ”Now then, let’s see how many of your answers were true, shall we?”

Soap

Johnny looks at you with what you could only construe as confidence. A challenge. You could feel the sly remark creeping up his throat as you tried to explain away the results of your test, trying not to paint yourself as someone whose answers suited them a little too well.

“Oh aye, Bonnie — I believe you,” came Johnny. With all the genuity in the world. “I just don’t think you do.”

When you gave him a queer look, his smile grew.

“What I’m sayin’ is you know there’s more to sex than that test’ll have you believe.”

Johnny shifted closer to you, eye-level with you. His hand came up to your chin, taking it between his fingers. He held you there.

“And I’d be more than happy to show ya what you’re missing out on.”

Valeria

“Looks like mi Cariño’s had a little too much screen time.”

She’s on you before you can even escape to your lock screen, a viper-strike hand plucking your phone from your grip and throwing it over Valeria’s shoulder. It cracks, somewhere, but her frame is all you can see as she pushes you to the floor.

“Seems like you’ve forgotten your place,” she grunts as she forces you to the ground, watching you fall flat on your backside. The carpet is enough to cushion your fall, but there isn’t a material in the known universe that can withstand the fire in Valeria’s eyes.

“Seems to me that you need to be reminded what you like.” Valeria bites her lip, coming to stand over you. Her shadow roves over you, almost as if to grope you, feel you.

She brings her boot onto your chest. Keeps you down.

“And where you like it.”

Price

“So you think I’m vanilla, Hm?” Price’s voice carried a weight you were not unfamiliar with, but the way in which he spoke suggested something unknown. His ankle sat atop his knee, arms crossed over his chest.

You’d gotten him to take the BDSM Test — “For science!” you’d told him. And, to nobody’s surprise, John’s results had come back relatively tame. Yours, however, were a different story.

John leaned back in his chair, his cigar lying in the ashtray, embers fading.

“Why don’t you come over here,” John said, voice low. He spread his legs, patted the expanse of his covered thigh. His eyes glinted with all the light of a black mirror.

“And teach this old dog some new tricks.”

Horangi

Hong-jin had seen your results by accident and had decided that teasing you about it would provide him with enough of a distraction to stop himself from salivating at the possibilities they opened.

Sure, it started off tame. The odd comment here and there about you seeming to be ‘tied up’ with whatever task you were doing, that you were doing such a good job of completing your work, etc.

Anything to get you hot under the collar.

And, luckily for Hong-jin, it worked. You came to him, frustrated and very much in need of relief.

Hong-Jin hummed, putting you on his lap. He ground his thigh between your legs, calling you his “Good little pet — behaving so well for me.”

His eyes almost seem to glimmer as he tells you how much he should reward you for being able to hold out for so long. Something to the tune of an oddly specific interest you knew you’d never told him. But that’s alright; your scores told him everything he needed to know.

Alejandro

He was NOT expecting the answers you got on your BDSM test. And you weren’t fully prepared for what you found on his.

Yes, Alejandro leans towards taking the dominant role in bed. Sure, not all the time, but enough that one look at the two of you could definitively conclude which of you wore the pants in bed.

Which, until tonight, neither of you had questioned.

“You know, Corazón,” came Alejandro. He sat beside you, not looking away from the TV. “It couldn’t hurt to…test some of our weaker areas.”

You looked at him, eyebrow raised. Then, it clicked.

“Oh,” you said, leaning closer, smiling. Knowing. Alejandro looked down at you. You could see him biting back a wide grin.

That night was spent with Alejandro bottoming while you went to town making him cry, whimper and beg for more.

Rodolfo

You’d assumed that Rodolfo’s results would be, at most, rather banal. In spite of his military background, he was gentle — loving — when it was just you, him and the late hours of the night.

So, when you saw his results and discovered that, oh you’re kind of depraved, actually (in a loving, non-judgemental way; you just weren’t expecting how much his results told you he was into), you wanted to test Rudy’s limits.

A whole day of teasing, complete with a healthy side of blue-balling, had, eventually, caused Rudy to grab you and drag you into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. He threw you to the bed, his strength masked by his lamb-like disposition.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. He stood over you, arms crossed over his chest. “And I know why you’re doing it. You’re trying to make me cave — trying to get me to ruin you.”

You couldn’t have put it better yourself. But he could. He approached you, came down to your level, crawling over the bed. You backed up until you hit the headboard (for the first of many times, you suspected), and Rudy, with a dark glint in his eye, gripped the headboard behind you, trapping you.

“Trust me, Amour,” he said, bringing his face level with yours, his voice low.  “With the way you’re acting, you’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of you to ruin by the time I’m done with you.”

Graves

Bless your cotton socks — you’d forgotten to close the tab on Graves’ phone that had your results splashed across it. Hence, Phillip was having a good old laugh about it now in the confines of his office. Though, the longer he studied your results, the stronger the throbbing between his legs became.

Of course, he sought you out. And of course, he made now secret of your faux pas. And, of course, you tried to explain it away. ‘I took it for fun’, ‘It was for a laugh’, ‘I didn’t t think you’d find it—‘

“Ah, there we go. The truth, coveted as it is,” said Graves, smiling from ear to ear. He stepped over the threshold of your bedroom, backing you up against the edge of the bed. He kicked the door shut behind him. No escape.

“Now,” he drawled, approaching you. “You’re gonna show me exactly what you’re into, where you like it,” He stood chest-to-chest with you now, watching you lose your balance as you fell back onto the bed. He all but pounced on you, taking your wrists and pressing them into the mattress.

His eyes were ablaze with a lustful vengeance as he pressed down on you. Into you.

“Or I’m gonna fuck it outta ya.”

Gaz

“Didn’t know you were into…” Gaz squinted, looking over your results from over your shoulder. He went quiet.

“Oh…” From the corner of your eye, you saw his face turn pink. Then red. He cleared his throat and took a step back.

“Y-yes, well— uh— that’s a very…colourful scorecard you have there!”

Smiling, a hint of mirth in your eyes, you turned to him. You could see he was nursing a rather pressing, growing problem, and you sought to relieve him of it.

“How about you come and help me make it a bit more colourful, hm?”

At that, Gaz’s eyes widened. His tongue tied as he tried to form words — a word — anything !

Your smile grew. So did Gaz. “Oh, come on, Gaz! Big military man like you scared of a little fun?”

Let’s just say, Gaz also found himself taking the test shortly after you’d ruined him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[wilcze-kudly]

People will go on about how "Katara's story is a tragedy" because she... ended up marrying the guy she loves, having children and grandchildren which she was always excited about and literally becoming a master waterbender and rising to the top of her field as a healer.

Yes, Katara's story has tragic aspects to it. And there are certainly flaws in how she is written in tlok (Though I will argue that there are actually more issues with how Toph and Zuko are just plopped in there for no reason in later seasons). And her storylines aren't perfect, for example her resolving her trauma around the murder of her mother being more used to prop up Zuko than her own internal turmoil. (Most of TSR is from Zuko's perspective and I hate that actually)

"Katara's story is a tragedy" Why do you have such a hard on for this woman's misery? Let her be happy, man.

You know what gaang girlie's life is an actual onscreen tragedy?

Toph's!

People will fucking downplay Toph's childhood abuse because she wasn't physically hurt, but her childhood was a never ending carousel of abelism, misogyny, neglect and isolation. The way Toph describes her parent's treatment of her as "pressure and pain" is heartbreaking.

Toph's only escape was Earth Rumble and earthbending, but despite her skills, she remained the perfect little lady her parents always wanted her to be. She's never known a different life, and she was only able to be her real self in secret.

And when Toph finally opens up to her parents, when she finally lays her real self bare in front of the people who are supposed to love and care for her?

She is met with what may be, in my opinion, the cruellest rejection in the show.

Despite this, even when Toph runs away, she still cares for her parents' approval. Hell, she's even lured into a trap due to her getting a forged letter from her mom and getting excited because it looked like her mom was finally accepting her.

It's also important to note how determined to be self sufficient and to prove herself Toph is. We can especially see this right after she joins the Gaang, where she refuses to participate in splitting with the rest of the group, insisting on "pulling her own weight". This isn't Toph being a brat, or spoilt, this is her wanting to prove that she can handle herself because people have handled and understimated her her entire life.

Eventually, Toph starts to learn to trust the members of the Gaang and this is a step in the right direction. She's literally making friends for the first time in her life I'm so proud of her.

However, I was genuinely upset when Toph's life changing field trip with Zuko didn't work out. When Toph was trying to connect with Zuko and he blew her off (I'm not blaming him tho they had shit to do), I couldn't help but remember the rejection Toph suffered from Lao.

Post canon, Toph continues to try and prove herself, starting a metalbending school and training new metalbenders.

She also reconciles with her father. Not before Lao disowns he rmultiple times and calls her a rude, ungrateful thing. And while he eventually comes to understand Toph and cherish her, that type of trauma sticks with you.

So it's no wonder really that Toph, someone who went her entire childhood seemingly without even speaking to someone her age, would have trouble forming connections. She has children with two different men, neither of which seem to stick around.

Toph tries to do right by her daughters and gives them the freedom she never got. Sadly, the pendulum swung too far to the other side, since it seems that she started to neglect her daughters, which led to them developing a sleugh of issues of their own.

Toph becomes the cheif of police, which kind of makes sense. Republic City was only slowly emerging as an actual metropolis. Toph took on a role as a protector, and probably as a way to prove herself. But as Republic City grew, Toph probably realised that she became something she hated. A cog in the machine, and started to despise her job.

Searching for a semblance of the freedom and happiness her travels afforded her in her childhood, Toph leaves the city and takes up the life of a hermit in a swamp. She managed to fix her relationship with Suyin to some extent, but still seems reluctant or simply unable to connect with her daughter or grandchildren. Since she apparently hasn't seen Opal, a grown 20 year old woman since she was a little girl.

On the surface old Toph doesn't seem terribly dissimilar to young Toph, still tough and spunky. But she is more jaded, depressed and pessimistic. She comes out to save Suyin from immediate harm and manages to somewhat reconcile with Lin, but then she fucks right back off to the swamp where she seems to literally hide until Wu and Korra straight up force her to come with them.

Toph's story began with her alone and it seems to end with her alone as well. It's a story of a girl who grew up isolated and handled by others, and was woefully unprepared for the real world, which only jaded her further. She lives with the guilt of fucking up her daughters' lives and a belief in the pointlessness of life.

Toph started off longing to experience the world and ended up willingly isolating herself from it.

If that isn't a tragedy, I'm not sure what is.

Mind you, this is not the trauma olympics. I'm not saying that Toph has suffered more than Katara or that Katara's trauma is not as valid as Toph's. Katara and Toph's experiences are completely different, Katara being a victim of genocide and war, Toph being a victim of child abuse. I'm just saying that, objectively, Katara had a happier 'ending' than Toph.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Class clown

class clown gyu who for some reason has it out for nerd!reader and finally she gets sick of it and puts him in his place. warnings: dom!reader, sub!gyu, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, pathetic gyu as always

"What is your problem?" You snap at Beomgyu, the class clown and the bane of your existence. He is always on your case, making fun of you in front of everyone. Today you made a mistake answering the proferssor's question and he immediatley jumped on it, humiliating you in front of the entire class. "Why do you have to mess with me?"

"Because you're fun to mess them." He answers simply, a huge infuriating grin on his face. You look really funny when you're angry."

You don't know what came over you, you're not usually a violent person but seeing his stupid cocky face makes you lose it and you shove him against the wall, slamming your hands on either side of his head to trap him in. "Do I look funny now?

But to your chagrin, he keeps grinning, not phased one bit. "Kinda."

You're so frustrated you could cry. There was nothing you have ever thought of or done that got him to leave you alone. He has been doing this to you for years, even back when you were at school. In fact you had been so excited to go to uni just to escape him, only to see his stupid face at your first lecture and your entire dream of escape came crashing down.

"What? The smart mouth finally has got nothing to say?" He goads when you stay quiet too long for his liking.

Your vision turns red. He makes you so frustrated and pent up, you would do anything to shut him up. Maybe that's why you resorted to doing something crazy.

Grabbing his face, you push your lips against his, intending to strong-arm him into silence. After all if his lips are busy, he can't mouth off anymore.

You don't know how you expected him to react to that--freeze in shock? Push you off? Call you crazy? You don't know but you certainly didn't expect him to almost immediately start kissing you back. It threw you off so hard you actually pull away from the kiss yourself.

But as soon as you pull back, he's running his mouth again. "Damn, nerd, looks like your mouth is good for somethjng other than eating the professor's ass."

"You're so fucking.. ugh!" You groan, shutting him up again. But this time you don't just use your mouth, instead you raise his shirt up, feeling up his body to his nipples and grabbing them between your thumbs and index fingers and pulling on them a bit roughly, making him gasp and break away from the kiss with a wet smack.

"Oh god," He groans, eyes fluttering as you roll his nipples between your fingers.

"You like that, brat?" You spit, happy to finally be getting the upper hand for the first time in your years of being tormented by Beomgyu.

"Fuck yeah." He groans and tries to reach out to touch your own tits.

"Don't fucking touch me, brat." You hiss at him, "If you touch me, I stop."

"You're being such a killjoy." He protests but it's hard for him to keep a steady voice when your fingers are playing with his clearly sensitive nipples like that, and even more so when one of your hands slips into his loose pants to palm his already very hard cock.

"You look like you're enjoying it enough." You mutter, twisting your hand up to the head of his cock, making him moan out.

"Fucking hell...Are you gonna fuck me?" He asks bluntly.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Gyu?" You ask, and any hesitency over the unfamiliar nickname vanishes as he shudders under your touch.

"If you're going to be handling my cock like that then I damn well expect to get a fuck out of it." He replies, still insolent despite his whimpering and frankly slutty moans.

"You're such a little bitch." You chastise, focusing your strokes on the head of his cock, aiming for maximum damage. "You think you deserve to get anywhere near my pussy after the shit you've pulled over me for years?"

He shrugs, trying to affect nonchalance but it's hard to but he's panting like a bitch for you. "Maybe if you get fucked good, you'd be a little less uptight.

Uptight! Just because you care about your future, that doesn't make you uptight. God, you hate him... but damn, does he looks fucking hot falling apart in your hands like that.

"And maybe if you were getting any attention on your cock apart from your own hand, you wouldn't be such an attention seeking slut." You jeer, getting down on your knees. "Now shut the fuck up or you won't get to cum at all."

"What--" He doesn't have time to formulate his question before you pull his pants down and wrap your mouth around his cock, sucking any retort right out of him.

"Oh, fuck, that's it." He arches his back, driving his cock further down your throat which you readily take, to his surprise.

"Fuck, where did you learn to suck dick like this?" He asks through his moans but you don't bother to answer him. You don't owe him an answer, you just want to shut the bitch up.

But Beomgyu is incapable of shutting up. "Have you been sucking dick on the down low? I didn't know the nerd is such a big slut. Thought you were a good girl."

You detach from his cock to retort, tearing a whine out of him which the idiot is too stupid to realize he is the cause of. "You're one to talk. Look how loudly you're moaning as soon as you get your dick wet. What? No one wants to fuck such a loudmouth?"

"Fuck you." He mutters, and you laugh. "You wish, baby." You smirk, bobbing your head down his cock again, going ruthlessly fast and getting the brat to writhe under you.

You think that would be the end of it but Beomgyu could die and his mouth would still be running. "Seriously, who are you fucking? Taehyun? Soobin? Don't tell me it's that manwhore Yeonjun?"

You pull off his dick in frustration, using your hand to jerk him off roughly instead. "Why do you fucking care who I fuck?"

"I don't care." He huffs, arching his back to push his cock further into your grip. "I just know they can't be fucking you good if you're still so uptight all the time. If you want a good time, I could give you the time of your life."

You burst out laughing, obviously bruising the boy's ego in the process but you don't care. And you don't even bother hiding your incredulity. "You? Do you even see yourself? I'm barely even moving my hand and you're fucking it like a dog in heat. Your dick is drooling all down my arm. You look like you're a few pumps away from creaming yourself. I don't think you'd even make it one stroke inside my pussy before you pop like a virgin."

"No, I'm not." He denies, trying to keep his hips still, clearly fighting with himself. "I can fuck you so good you'll screaming my name."

"You can? You can take hot, tight pussy until I cum? You can have me clench around your needy cock without emptying your balls inside me?" You reach your other hand out to cup his balls, massaging then gently between your fingers, making him suck in a shuddering breath. "You can hold back your hot cum until I'm ready to milk your cock? You won't just break and spurt your cum inside me as soon as you put it in?"

"Fuck, fuck, slow down." He gasps, trying to squirm away from your touch but you hold him tighter, jerking him off steadily.

"Why? Are you going to cum just from my hands? That's disappointing. I thought you wanted to give me the fuck of my life?" You cock your head to side, staring up at him condescendingly, making him shudder.

"Baby, please, slow down?"

"Baby?" You laugh. "Now I'm baby?"

"I can't take much more." He was jerking uncontrollably in your grip but you never let go, taking the hand on his balls off to press it against his lower tummy to hold him in place as you continue jerking off his now very red and slippery cock.

"Are you gonna cum?" You ask again and he nods, biting onto his lip harshly. "Yes, can I?"

You have to say you were taken aback at him suddenly asking for your permission to cum. You would have thought the brat would just do it with no warning. "Aw, baby is asking for permission to cum? If I knew it was this easy to get you to behave, I would have... well, actually I still wouldn't have touched you any sooner. But it's good to know how pathetic you really are."

"Fuck you." He repeats, voice strained in his effort to still hold back.

"You want me to say you can cum?" You tease, twisting your hand over the length of his cock slowly.

He nods. "Yes. Need it. Need it."

"Are you going to be good to me from now on?" You ask and he shakes his head. "You're too fun to tease."

"You are too." You counter, slowing your hand down, making him thrust his hips to try to get more of your touch so you smack his thigh in punishment. "Down, boy!"

"Baby, please!" He begs so sweetly, pining you with his pretty, brown eyes, his dick drooling in your grip.

"Are you going to be good from now on?" You tighten your grip around him as you deliberately move your hand up the entire length of his cock, feeling his precum dripping down your arm.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good. I'll be so good." He babbles, and you know he is lying his ass off, just wanting to say whatever would get you to let him cum, but even that makes you feel so fucking hot. To have that effect on your tormentor after all these years is a fucking head rush.

"God, you're a mess." You mutter, quickening your pace over his cock, making Beomgyu panic. "Wait, wait, can I cum? Can I cum?"

It's a little precious how much he panics over cumming without your explicit permission, so much so you decide to just give it to him, wanting to see the brat completely lose it in your grip.

"You can cum, brat." As soon as you utter the words--as if he was really waiting for them--he explodes, spurting rope after rope of cum down your arm and onto your chest.

"Thank you. Thank you, baby." He cries, emptying himself for you until he can no longer hold himself up anymore and collapses to the ground by your side.

But to your surprise and mild horror, Beomgyu takes a minute to calm himself down before he grabs his own cock and strokes himself to full hardness again, bearing through the pain of overstimulation for a reason that only becomes apparent to you after you ask, "What the hell are you doing, Beomgyu?"

"I promised I can fuck you good, didn't I?"

He really is insane.

____________________

[tender-rosiey]

MORE HUSBAND!SUKUNA PLSSSS (not forcing TvT) (not modern-)

tough love — ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

a/n: okay but like imagine living in a palace with this guy

your husband is sweet, but not in the traditional sense.

when you think of sweet, you think of nights spent with hushed whispers and mutual giggles, you think of flowers at your doorstep every single day.

you don’t think of a 7 foot something man, with the biggest scowl on his face, staring at you in the early morning and scaring the heebie-jeebies out of you.

but he is still sweet.

despite the blood staining his hands and his manic grin doing such acts, the same hands have the ability to hold you as gently as one would stroke a flower’s petal.

they’re able to cradle you and carry you to bed and tuck you in. sure, there is no goodnight kiss, but that’s because he doesn’t leave. when you rest, your husband stays awake on the look to make sure that no harm comes to you.

he is rough with what he does. still, you feel happiness about to overflow when, for example, he gets you jewelry he believes would suit you.

add to that, the fact that he personally puts them on you. you remember that one time he got back from his endeavor—terrorizing yet another village—and he greeted you with a box painted with gold and wrapped in velvet.

you took the box from his hands and opened. it revealed a very exquisite anklet with jewels of your favorite color. they are organized in a matter that you distinctly remember telling your husband about and how pretty that is to you.

you looked up to him giddily, “so you do pay attention!”

he takes the anklet from the box, grumbling, “shut up,” and despite his harsh tone and words, he kneels and puts the anklet on you. it’s a bit hard, considering his big hands and long nails, but he manages. he pulls back with a smirk, and you examine the anklet on your leg.

“I like it.”

“of course, you do; I chose it.”

he is an ass, but that same guy takes care of you when you’re sick—somehow. when news had spread that you’ve fallen ill, you expected that your husband would simply send the maids to your aid and the doctors to ensure your rapid and swift recovery.

instead, what you saw was the figure of your—scary—husband stood at your door. you peek from under the covers, a cough escaping your lips, “how can I help you, husband?”

he frowns down at you, “you look like shit.”

you start laughing, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit—his frown deepens—, “well—obviously! I am sick,” you try to get a look of what’s behind him, “where are the maids and doctors?”

he sits on the bed, right by your side, and rests a hand on your forehead, “I am not letting their filthy hands touch you,” a sigh threatens to escape him, when he feels your temperature, “you’re foolish.”

you huff, “I can’t control how sick I get, you know!”

“well, you could’ve avoided this, if you had listened to me when I told you not to play in the rain.”

the memory brings a dopey smile to your face.

the rain was falling freely but gently. the wind was blowing just right. and your husband was watching you, under the door frames so he doesn’t get wet. he called for you, of course, but you’re a free spirit and wanted to enjoy the outdoors a bit more.

you’re never confided in the walls of the palace, but it’s nice to feel like a rebel every once in a while even if it ends up with you being sick in bed.

he sees the little kick of your feet, “but, it was fun, right? I even managed to get you to stand in the rain with me!”

yes, he did, in the end and after much whining, go in the rain with you. he was simply standing there, but it’s the thought that counts, right? and because he is the king of curses, he didn’t get sick, but he did get stuck taking care of you.

it’s a win in his book—even if he hates seeing you all frail like that—but he would never tell you that.

he shoves a cup of water to your lips, and grumbles, “shut up and drink.”

your goes up to hold the cup, but his glare makes you slowly lower them back down. you get the memo that he wants to take care of you, to the fullest. he slowly helps you drink all of the water.

so you relax the entire night, letting him nurse you back to health. he is a bit clumsy throughout it, and you understand it’s because he never truly cared for someone before nor did someone care for him in a way so tender and gentle.

you think it’s cute: his determination mixed with a hint of roughness and cluelessness.

you want to giggle and chuckle at some of the things he does like how he was confused about which medicine you were supposed to take and at what hour.

or like how—despite his enormous strength—he was unable to take the cover of the bottle of herbs off, but you’re sure he would either glare at you or leave you to suffer alone for an hour.

so yeah, he stays with you the entire time you’re sick, night and day, never leaving your chambers. even when he needed something like medicine or a wet cloth, he would send the maids.

he stays by your side till you’re back to your feet with a smile on your face.

and when you’re dinning on the very long and gigantic table, you look intently at your husband’s face. he reminds you of something with his permanent scowl and grumpily attitude.

he notices your gaze and groans, “what is it now?”

you gasp as you finally come to the long awaited realization.

a tiger.

your husband is a tiger, one hell of a grumpy tiger.

“your face looks stupider than usual; what’s up with you now?”

an asshole tiger.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Escapism.

Commissioned by the very lovely @twst-ophelia.

Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Slight Marking, Disassociation, and Possessive Behavior.

The mirror would be ready to use, by now.

Really, that’d been your first mistake – forgetting what you’d learned during your first months in this strange new place, having enough faith in the friends you’d made and your own middling abilities to tell anyone and everyone you could find that you were finally going home. You’d been over-eager, blinded by joy, and within a week of Crowly admitting that he’d found a way to return you to your own world using the Magic Mirror, it’d been common knowledge across all of Twisted Wonderland that it’d only be a few more weeks before you were returned to your own world. Ace teased you for being so eager to drop out halfway through your third year and Grim stuck to your side with twice his usual clinginess, and despite the bittersweetness of knowing you’d likely never be able to come back, you were happy. You were alright with leaving them, so long as it meant you could go home.

And you did leave them, in a way. If you looked at it from a certain angle.

You just didn’t get to go home.

There was a wet, slick noise, then a pang of pure agony racing from your cunt to your core. Involuntarily, you jerked away from the painful sensation, but it was an effort made in vain. The heavy arm wrapped around your waist only coiled tighter, your back soon drawn flush against a broad chest. Leona’s tail swatted contentedly at the down-stuffed mattress as he let out a low, airy chuckle. “Not gonna get away that easily,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Remember what happened last time you tried to act-up? I don’t think the basement’s gotten any warmer.”

Basement. Calling it a basement would be like calling him a housecat. You’d been locked in that dark, frigid dungeon of a cellar for days before Azul – because he was the one you scratched, the one who got to decide how cruel your punishment was going to be – let you out, and even then, it’d taken another week of huddling by barely-smoldering fireplaces and wrapping yourself in any shred of fabric you could find to shake the chill that’d lodged itself underneath your skin. You stopped trying to lash out at them, after that. As much as their so-call ‘affection’ scared you, their anger scared you that much more.

You couldn’t be sure how they’d gotten their hands on a place like this – ancient and only a step above decrepit. Their means weren’t exactly limited, not with a prince and the heir to a fortune that might as well have made him royalty funding their little venture, but it was still hard to imagine the people you’d gone to school with keeping you locked inside of an abandoned castle, surrounded only by more woodland than you could ever hope to walk through. It might’ve been more enjoyable (or, bearable, at least) if your captors had taken a more absentee approach, if they’d given you time to adjust to being in the middle of a never-ending forest with only stone walls and dust-covered furniture for company, but no, at least one of them always seemed to be at no more than arm’s length, there to remind you exactly why you’d been relegated to the role of princess, trapped in her tower. You’d never been able to call any of them your friends, and yet, the betrayal still stung.

“Would you keep your mouth shut?” Vil mumbled, with a particularly sharp movement of his wrist. The heel of his palm ground into your clit, and against your better judgement, you withered into Leona – the sound of your pulse beating in your ears deafening, but still not enough to mask the deep, self-satisfied purr rising from his chest. “You’re frightening the poor thing. Look at her eyes – they’re practically glazed over.”

 “Is she scared, or just bored half-to-death by your shitty excuse for a handjob?” He bowed his head, nipping playfully at the corner of your jaw. Of all your captors, he was the most fond of marking what he considered to be his property – even more so if he had a captive audience. “If I was the one between her legs, she’d be feelin’ too good to think about anything else. She’d already be fucked good n’ dumb.”

“That’s not—” The air caught in your throat as Vil spread his fingers apart, but you fought to go one. “I don’t feel anything when you—”

Vil pulled out of you entirely, only for his hand to come down on your pussy with a harsh, slick crack. You couldn’t swallow back your pained cry, couldn’t stop yourself from shrinking further into Leona. “No lying, now, darling. You know how easy it is to hurt his feelings.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulders. Blearily, your attention drifted to the doorway of your bedroom – to Riddle, standing stiffly on the other side other side of the threshold. You stiffened, but Vil didn’t seem surprised. “Going to watch today, Rosehearts?”

Obviously. As complicit as they all seemed with your imprisonment, there were a few – Riddle, Idia, Azul – that withheld from treating your prolonged abuse like a group project. You’d been surprised, at first, that Vil wasn’t a part of that collective, but his tendency towards exhibitionism made sense. He couldn’t love what he couldn’t flaunt, even if his audience was limited to a handful of former classmates.

“O-of course not,” Riddle stuttered out, predictably. His pale face was tinted a nearly violent shade of red. “I just wanted to make sure you two weren’t hurting her.”

You felt Leona’s grin against your throat. “Hear that, pretty girl?  He thinks we’d hurt you.” The space Vil left vacant was quickly filled – three of his calloused fingers soon filling your drenched pussy. You clenched your eyes shut, grit your teeth, but that did little to stop him from burrowing his claws into your side and tearing a little, cracked whimper through your sealed lips. “Don’t see him doing much to stop us, though.”

Vil only offered an unimpressed shake of his head, but Riddle straightened. “Are you implying that I couldn’t—”

“I’m saying that you won’t.” Leona cut him off swiftly, the edge in his tone sharped and playful. “Not if you want the next turn.”

For a moment, Riddle didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.

Then, with a pointed glare, he turned on his heel and abandoned your bedroom altogether, likely dedicating himself to finding another part of this terrible castle to wait Leona out in.

As soon as his footsteps faded out of earshot, Leona’s teeth were buried in the curve of your throat – drawing blood in an instant.

~

Out of all your captors, it was Kalim who’d disappointed you the most.

You hadn’t expected this from the others, but in hindsight, you wouldn’t put it above them, either. Azul had never been able to draw a line between what he wanted and what he could have, Riddle had never been able to keep his base impulses at bay for very long, and Leona… well, Leona couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was interested in things like your ‘autonomy’ or ‘independence’. Kalim, though – he’d always been nice to you. Not overly kind, but nice, and in a place like NRC, that was something you’d been able to appreciate.

It almost didn’t make sense to see him in a place like this, to connect his presence here with the looming fact of your continual imprisonment. It didn’t make sense that the boy who’d once thrown a parade to celebrate you finally accepting an invitation to one of his banquets would be resting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes fixed on your reflection in a pearl-lined vanity as he pulled what felt like the hundredth gem-studded necklace into place at the base of your throat. You didn’t need jewelry. They rarely gave you anything to wear outside of loose-fitting, sheer dresses and the occasional piece of lingerie, but Kalim would’ve plucked the moon from the sky if it meant he could give it to you in a velvet-lined box. That was what he’d told you, at least, the first time you’d turned him down.

Actually, maybe you didn’t deserve to feign surprise. They’d all tried to do it the right way before their graduations, whether it was Vil beckoning you to sit on his lap during a dorm leader meeting or Riddle turning a dozen shades of pink as he asked if you’d care to attend an Unbirthday Party as his guest, sometime. You’d turned them all down, batting Leona’s hand away before it could settle on your shoulder, telling Azul you wouldn’t trust him as a business partner, let alone a boyfriend. Between school and a new apocalypse-scenario every other week, you never had the time (let alone the energy or desire) to date, as idiotic as it sounded to suggest that any of this could’ve started with a handful of schoolyard crushes. Maybe, if you’d given them a chance to see that it wouldn’t have worked out on their own terms, it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe, you would’ve gotten to go home.

Or, maybe, you just would’ve been snatched up before that thread of hope could ever be dangled in front of you. Either way, a preferable alternative.

“The sapphires were a better fit,” Azul chimed in as Kalim pulled the next necklace into place – a loose riviere studded with rubies. It was the fifth of as many variants, only differentiated by the color of the jewel. Kalim claimed that he’d only meant to get you one, but ever the glutton, he hadn’t been able to choose. “Red is such a garish color. Our little princess deserves to feel as royal as we treat her, doesn’t she?”

If Kalim noticed the barb, he didn’t seem to mind. “I think you look beautiful in red,” he said, leaning down to push a kiss into your temple. His smile was as bright as it’d ever been, and you hated him that much more for it. “Then again, you look beautiful in everything. Why don’t you keep them all?”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him where he could shove his jewelry, but you were cut off by the shutter of a camera, the hint of a flash in your peripheral. You glanced towards Azul, who only shrugged in response., sinking further into his armchair “For Idia. He’s going to be tied up with a research project for another week or so, and for whatever reason, it’s fallen on my shoulders to make sure that he doesn’t completely succumb to his self-pity and throw the gates of Tartarus open.” He thought, for a moment. “For a second time, I mean.”

You couldn’t be sure why you said it. It was an instinct, a knee-jerk reaction to grab the first blade you saw and twist it. Idia was, by far, the most distant of your captors, and when he did show his face, he barely spoke and never touched you. Even in a castle of rapists and kidnappers, he’d found a way to make himself an outsider.

“Azul?” You made a point of keeping your eyes on your reflection as you went on. “Could you tell Idia I want to see him again? When he has time, I mean.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

Finally, Kalim forced out an only partially strained laugh, squeezing your shoulders with just a little too much force. “Is something wrong? If you want to ask for something, you don’t have to wait for Idia.”

You didn’t bother trying to respond to him. “Please, Azul?”

From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance between you and Kalim. Eventually, he let out an airy sigh and nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Although, I do have to wonder what you’re getting up to.”

Your only answer came in the form of a tight smile, a slight shrug. Kalim didn’t waste time taking up the next necklace: a choker of braided strands of pure, glittering gold. This time, he fastened it tightly enough to bruise.

~

You almost felt bad for Idia, when you let yourself think about what you were doing.

Almost.

The bare skin of his chest was warm under your palm, the flames of his hair tinted a deep pink - a color you might’ve found charming, in any other situation. He was beneath you, currently, his face half-buried in a pillow while you rolled your hips idly against his, your pace slow and careless. He wasn’t as authoritative as Leona, as demanding as Riddle, and you liked that about him. But, his submissiveness meant you had to do most of the work, which you liked less.

At least he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it. Bias caused conflict, and his occasional encounters with the others wilted before shriveling into complete nonexistence shortly after you declared him your unlikely favorite. Even now, he kept his eyes clenched shut, his bottom lip caught between his pointed teeth as your pussy clenched around him. You’d gone numb to pleasure in the first weeks of your captivity, but any amount of physical contact seemed to overwhelm him. It might’ve been refreshing, if you hadn’t been so, so exhausted.

Gradually, your movements slowed, your body stilling on top of his. A second passed before he opened one of his eyes, his kiss-swollen lips quirking downward in mixed disappointment and frustration. “W-Why did you stop?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you collapsed onto him, slotting your chest against his and propping your chin on his collarbone. “I never made it to graduate,” you said, absentmindedly, relying on the haze of lust to hide just how flat your voice was. “Never got to say goodbye to anyone, either, but that was never going to happen. The other are too mean to me for that.”

His expression took on a somber lull. It might’ve been more believable if you hadn’t been able to feel his cock twitching inside of you. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to wait, but Azul said— and Leona—”

“I know, I know.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I just—”

You cut yourself off with another sigh, just as unbelievable as the first. Thankfully, Idia was eager to take the bait. “Whatever it is, I can do it for you. I’d do anything for you.” His shaking hands found their way to your waist. “I love you.”

“I want to see Ramshackle again,” you said, without hesitation. Immediately, you felt him stiffen against you, and let your tone drag into something desperate, something pleading. “Just this once. I won’t even go inside, and Night Raven’s on break, right now. No one’s going to be on campus.” You paused, pecked the corner of his lips. “Please, Idia. Nobody else has to know.”

He still looked skeptical, but he was going to break your heart, he wasn’t going to do it while his cock was still pulsing inside of you. After only a moment of hesitation, he let out a shallow breath and nodded hastily. “One trip. And the other never find out.”

Instantly, you brightened, beaming as you pulled him into a deep, lasting kiss – a proper kiss, this time, something you’d never willingly imitated with any of your captors. He would know that. He wasn’t the most domineering, but if the hidden cameras dotted across your bedroom were anything to go by, he had his own kind of competitive streak.

A hitched moan reverberated against your mouth. With your arms still wrapped around his neck, your chest still pressed into his, he started to move on his own – his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust into you from below. His pace was unsteady, his rhythm nonexistent, but your clit scraped against the flattened plane of his pubic bone and however meager it might’ve been, there was just enough stimulation to melt into. Vaguely, you were aware of a distant whimpering, of Idia’s face buried in the crook of your neck, but you let it fade into the background – into the constant fog of static that’d been cast over your conscious mind since you woke up in this terrible place.

When you felt his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, it was all you could do to close your eyes and think of home.

~

“It’s a pretty basic teleportation scheme,” he’d explained, as he led you through the castle’s entryway after pulling you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The winter air cut through your thin dress without mercy, but you’d fought not to shiver, not to give him a reason to second-guess if he should be doing this. Right now, he was convinced he loved you more than he feared letting you get away, and you couldn’t do anything to break that delusion. “Ortho handled most of the hardware, but he was following my designs. The NRC waypoint was supposed to be a limited-time mechanic, but I never cut it out of the system. It should still work – for a couple trips, at least.”

You’d let him ramble about how many hours it’d taken to put together, nodded enthusiastically as he described all the effort he’d poured into ruining your life. He kept his hand locked around yours as he led you onto a shining, steel platform, only letting go to punch the coordinates into his tablet. There was a flash of light, a slight buzzing in your ears, and then, you were standing in front of the gates to Night Raven College, already open and waiting for your arrival.

You didn’t wait for Idia to move, to say anything. Rather, you let the gem shard (pilfered from one of Kalim’s more recent attempts to win back your attention; the jewel in its entirety had been larger than your balled fist) that you’d stowed away in your sleeve fall into your hand and stabbed the jagged end into his back. You didn’t wait to see if the wound took before breaking into a sprint towards the Hall of Mirrors.

You’d be able to see, later on, that it was far from the best idea you’d ever had. There was a good chance Crowley abandoned any work he might’ve started as soon as you went missing, if he really had found a way to send you hope at all. The injury you’d dealt to Idia was far from fatal, and you’d be in for more than just a few days in the cellar if they caught you, but the desire to get out of here, to go home drowned out your better judgement – leaving your tired mind empty and your body dependent on pure, unadulterated desperation as you ran towards the familiar, pitch-black dome on the outskirts of campus. Your skirt snagged on roots and twigs, your bare feet numb and aching in-turns, but you didn’t dare to slow down, to look behind you. By the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, your throat was dry, your heart beating in your ears. Thankfully, the door had been left unlocked, and you shouldered your way inside.

The Magic Mirror stood, dark and stoic, in the center of the room. You allowed yourself a single breath of relief, a moment to let the past few months— no, the past three years of your life melt away before moving toward it.

You made it all of two, three steps before something sprung from the darkness and wrapped around your ankle – cutting into your flesh and, with a sudden jerk, dragging you to the floor. You stifled a scream, reflexively moving to tear at your new restraints, but froze when you saw exactly what you were caught in.

A thick braid of vines wrapped around your leg – except they weren’t vines, not really.

They were briars.

Rows upon rows of hooked thorns were embedded into the skin of your calf, drawing blood wherever they made contact. The pain was instant, searing, but you didn’t care – tearing at your bondage even as the thorns bit into your hands, as the rope of briars drew that much tighter. Tears blurred your vision, and so distracted by your own misery and panic, you almost didn’t notice the sound of clipped heels against marble floors, the dark shadow that soon blocked out what little light you had. You didn’t have to look at him. You already knew who it was.

In the end, though, you weren’t given much of a choice.

You really should’ve been more used to that, by now.

A gloved hand caught you by the chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and meet Malleus’ expectant, prying stare. He took a moment to evaluate your ragged dress, the bruising and love-bites painted down your neck before a small smile came to rest over his lips; the barest hint of pointed teeth catching in the moonlight. “And to think, I thought it was only nostalgia drawing me back to this lonely place.” He spared a glance toward the mirror. “And I suppose you plan to use that ancient thing to return to your own world?”

“Malleus,” you gasped his name, hoping that would be enough to communicate the depths of your despair. “I don’t have a lot of time, I— They’re coming for me, and—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly. “I want to go home.”

His only response came in the form of a low hum, dull and dismissive. All it took was a snap of his fingers, a certain glint in his narrowed eyes, and the mirror shattered into more pieces than you could ever hope to put back together.

This time, you couldn’t swallow back the ragged sob that tore past your lips, the pathetic noise echoing off the stone walls. You tried to crawl towards the fractured pieces, but Malleus kneeled to your height, letting out a patronizing coo as he wrapped an arm around your midriff, pulling you against his chest and suffocating any possible hope you might’ve had for escape. Distantly, you were aware of a rush of footsteps, of a collar (as heavy as it was useless) snapping shut around your neck, but Malleus didn’t falter. With your limp body in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face your captors where they’d clustered in the entryway.

It was Leona who spoke first, predictably. He never could let anyone else be the center of attention. “What do you want, Draconia?”

Malleus, on the other hand, was in no rush, letting his gaze fall back to you. “I was surprised, when I heard of her disappearance. I know how fragile mortal lives could be, but I thought, surely, a human who’d befriended so many powerful mages ought to be a little more enduring.”

After he finished, silence hung heavy in the air. Vil summoned his spell book, and Kalim’s fists clenched at his sides, his jealousy threatening to outweigh his pacifistic nature. None of it would’ve made a difference. If Malleus wanted to, he could reduce them all to ash with little more than a wayward thought. If Malleus wanted to, he wouldn’t need five other conspirators to have you at his mercy.

And yet, he only let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer to his chest. “Then again, if I’d known those powerful mages would struggle to keep watch of such a precious item, I might’ve been less generous.”

“Get to the point.”

This time, he chose to obey. “It seems,” he started, bowing his head and letting his lips brush against your cheek. “As if you’re having trouble keeping this little one in line.”

His grin was wider and more satisfied than you’d ever seen it, before. Looking at him, you could only wonder how you have bothered trying to survive in a world that so clearly wasn’t meant for you.

“Would you consider making use of another pair of hands?”

[incognit0slut]

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

.

Oneshot taglist

@simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @nataratacat @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim @pastanest @queermaxwooo @sky2nd @jay-2s-world @comeonatmebruh @mcira @wannabewolf @silverhetdanes @thegeniusreider

PLEASE READ: If any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[dotster001]

How they get you under the Mistletoe

Summary: Twst NRC students x gn! reader. How they get you under the Mistletoe.

A/N: Merry Christmas if you celebrate that! If not, happy holidays! I was gonna do the staff too for this, but it got so long 😂 if people enjoy this, I can do the staff and RSA/Noble bell.

The Long awaited Part Two

Ace Trappola

You have no idea until it's too late.

You had to admit, despite the strict rulebook she made, the queen of hearts knew how to throw a holiday party. You were finishing off a glass of the best sparkling cider you'd ever had when you felt an arm around your waist.

You turned to see Ace, just in time for him to lightly punch your shoulder as he told some random student, "And this one? You shoulda seen them, they really whipped our asses into shape."

"You're exaggerating," Deuce pouted from next to him.

"Am not," Ace said. He pushed you slightly forward and gestured to you.

"You wouldn't know it by looking at them, but our beloved Y/N can be a hard ass."

He took a step forward, and whispered, "Huh. Would you look at that prefect. It appears we are under the mistletoe."

You wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, but it was too late. His lips were already on yours.

The world around you faded, and for a moment it was just you and him. Then you were brought back to reality by …

"Ew, Ace," Deuce groaned, and walked away, as did the other Heartslaybul student.

You were about to follow after them to apologize for Ace's tomfoolery, when he grabbed your wrist and whispered, "Hey, we're still under the mistletoe. Can't wreck tradition, now can we?"

Deuce Spade

You were setting up decorations together

First years were in charge of setting up the decor for the Heartslaybul holiday party. Ace and Deuce had of course come begging on their hands and knees for you and Grim to come help.

You'd decided it would save time if you split the work, so Ace and Grim were working on the upstairs hall decor, while you and Deuce were working on the common room.

You were on a shaky ladder trying to hang up some garland and mistletoe, when Deuce panicked and held your ladder still.

"I feel better knowing that I'm holding the ladder still for you," he said, looking up at you nervously.

You nodded, and finished hanging the things, before climbing down (sort of) into his waiting arms. You were about to say you were okay, when you noticed his reddened cheeks, and his eyes flicking between the mistletoe and your lips.

Knowing Deuce as long as you had, you knew you'd have to initiate the thing he clearly wanted. You pressed a quick peck to his lips.

His eyes widened, then darkened as he smiled mischievously. He grabbed your face and kissed you fervently until Grim came through hoping to escape, and screamed.

Riddle Rosehearts

You have to follow the rules.

Riddle had been acting funny the entirety of the party. He'd been quiet, and his face was a bright red, but you figured he was probably tired from exams, and/or stressed about returning home for the break.

It was nearing the end of the party, when he suddenly approached you with a stern frown on his face.

"I know you aren't a member of Heartslaybul, but remember, when you are in my kingdom, you have to follow my rules."

"Why yes, your majesty, of course," you gave a mock curtsy. "And now I'm sure you're gonna tell me what rule I broke?"

He scowled before he turned away.

"Rule 533, the queen and their beloved must share a kiss under the mistletoe, if the holiday is being celebrated under a full moon."

"I'm your beloved?" You couldn't decide whether to tease him, or flush yourself. But this whole thing was very vulnerable of him, and your heart was melting.

"Yes" he whispered. "Now are you going to follow me to mistletoe, or do I have to punish you?"

You gave a fake sigh, "Lead the way, your majesty."

He led you under the mistletoe, and gave you a chaste kiss.

"That's it?" You scoffed.

"What do you mean that's…"

You cut him off with a deep kiss, that he reciprocated incredibly quickly.

When you pulled away, it hit you.

"Wait, isn't it a crescent moon tonight?"

His eyes widened at being caught, and he said the first thing that came to his otherwise empty brain.

"Off with your head!"

Trey Clover

A quiet (orchestrated) moment alone

You were helping Trey with the baking for the party. Knowing Heartslaybul, the party itself was going to be raucous, so having some time to just chill with Trey was nice.

Once everything was in the oven, you began trying to clean up some of the clutter.

"There's no need to do that right now," he said with a soft smile. He took a seat and patted the chair next to him.

"Come sit for a moment, just relax," he hummed before crossing his arms behind his head, closing his eyes, and leaning back.

You took the seat next to him, and did your best to find a comfortable position before sighing.

"I'm not an old man like you. I can't just sleep anywhere."

He opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow.

"Old man?"

"Yeah, let's face it Trey. You're an old man in a college kid's body."

He smiled mischievously. "That so?"

He pulled out some mistletoe he'd been holding on to and held it above your head, using his other hand to seductively caress your jaw.

"Well, ya gonna give this old man a kiss?"

"That came out weird," You said with a laugh.

"I know, I heard it after I said it," he winced. "Still…"

He leaned in even closer.

"Part of that question still stands," he whispered.

Before you could tease him with a "which part", he was kissing you like he was starving, and you were his last meal.

Cater Diamond

Doing an innocent trend

Being the token non magic student at NRC, Cater knew you were a gold mine for content. You'd become a frequent guest on Cater's magicam, and a popular one at that.

So when Cater had told you before the party that he would need you for a trend later, you didn't think too much about it.

Now he was dragging you off somewhere, giggling over his shoulder as you spilled your drink, or tripped on a stray student. You figured you'd pay him back later.

He stopped abruptly, and told you to stay put as he set up his camera. You had ten seconds once he started the camera to get set, so he always filled you in while he set up any filters or sound bites he wanted.

"Kay, so you're under mistletoe right? So the trend is to kiss your bestie's cheeks under the mistletoe, then hug. All you gotta do is stand there and look fabulous, until the hug part."

It sounded like a pretty boring trend to you. But, whatever, that's why Cater was in charge. He finished set up, pressed the button, and the ten seconds timer started. He ran back over to you, gave you a reassuring, "ready?", And then kissed your cheek on the far side to the camera as the video started.

He kissed your other cheek, and you began to move closer for the hug, when his arms were around you, and he was kissing you.

He took a step back, and took in your appearance, which was flustered and shocked. Your jaw was dropped so far you were certain it was on the floor. And your heart, oh God your heart, you were worried it was beating way too fast.

The set time of the video ended, and Cater practically skipped over to his phone, where he checked the video, added some effects, put in some tags, and posted it.

All you could do was watch him the entire time, words completely gone from your brain.

After the video posted, he put his phone back in his pocket and gave you a smug grin.

"I tagged you in it," he said, eyes looking softer than usual as he pointed to the pocket you kept your phone in.

You pulled it out, and looked at the video you were tagged in.

"Kissing my crush under the mistletoe to see how they'll react."

Leona Kingscholar

It was an accident, but he's not complaining.

Ruggie had asked you to bring Leona the food plate he'd asked for, since he was trying to put as much food in Tupperware as he could before the Savannaclaw party finished. You were a good pal, so you agreed, knowing full well that the second the plate was secure, and you were in arms reach, you would become a nap buddy.

But you weren't complaining. Even though Savannaclaw was hot, it still felt nice to cuddle with a heater during the holidays. For the vibes, of course.

Just as predicted, he opened a single eye, had you set down the plate, and suddenly, you were a little spoon.

"Thanks herbivore," he hummed half heartedly as he nuzzled into your neck.

You were finally starting to drift off, when you were flipped on your back, and he was hovering above you. His eyes were lit up with mischief as he looked down at you like the prey you were beginning to realize you were.

"I guess my nap spot just happens to be under the mistletoe. You'll indulge me, right herbivore?"

Then his lips were on your neck, your jaw, your cheek, but never your lips, until you whined at him to stop teasing you.

He laughed lowly, and whispered, "As you wish." And finally gave you what you wanted.

Ruggie Bucchi

If you don't know how he does it, hi, you must be new. Welcome to the fandom 😂

"Laugh with me," he whispered, and before you could cuss him out for being a prick, he was already giggling and walking you both over to the mistletoe that you'd seen a Savannaclaw student and his Octavinelle boyfriend making out under an hour ago.

When you both stopped under it, he gasped in mock surprise.

"My my my, what have we here? It appears we've been caught under the mistletoe!" He said, as his grin turned sneakier and sneakier now that he was certain he'd won.

His tail was wagging at a mile a minute as you "reluctantly" puckered your lips out to him. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and you thought it was over.

But Ruggie is an opportunist.

Hours of making out later, you finally pried yourself from Ruggie's embrace, but only on the promise that you would bring back some hot chocolate to share.

Jack Howl

You'll have to initiate.

The entirety of the party, you'd seen Jack's eyes flicker to the mistletoe, over to you, and then down to the floor in embarrassment.

He'd made sure neither of you wandered over in that direction, and if you asked him if something was wrong, his cheeks would darken.

Naturally, because this was Savannaclaw, you, Ruggie and Jack were the only ones there for party cleanup.

You subtly made eye contact with Ruggie and nodded towards the mistletoe, then towards Jack.

Ruggie grinned and made a gesture for money with his hands. You rolled your eyes and nodded, and he smiled.

"We're out of garbage bags, I'll be right back guys," Ruggie said before leaving the room.

Jack started to follow after him, and you grabbed his arm.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"We have trash bags right here," he nodded at the obvious box of trash bags, and you cursed Ruggie in your head.

"He's just giving us privacy, come over here," you did your best to pull him over to the mistletoe, but he was made out of stone.

"Why?"

"Gah! Just trust me!"

He frowned, but allowed you to pull him over. Once you were under the mistletoe, his tail started wagging like a fan, but his eyes couldn't meet yours.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, until he sighed, and relaxed.

It was over far too soon, but you knew Jack would probably explode if you overdid it. And you'd rather not have that happen.

What surprised you, though, was how you were suddenly engulfed in his arms, as he buried his face in your hair, and held you close.

Azul Ashengrotto

His wingmen are simultaneously the worst and the best.

The Monstro Lounge was having a winter themed night. Azul may or may not have been planning with the tweels how he was going to effortlessly get you under the mistletoe.

You arrived, as planned, with Grim, and had taken a seat at a table near the VIP room.

"Prefect! I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I was hoping you could look at the menu I'm thinking about for the next semester."

"Of course," you stood up and followed him to the chosen spot, but now that you were here, he was nervous to initiate. So he continued pointing out dishes on the menu until…

"Have you kissed them yet?" Floyd shouted from across the lounge.

"Yes, you see we've been keeping other students away from the mistletoe, but they are starting to get upset. I'd hurry up if I were you," Jade said at a much subtler volume.

Azul turned a bright shade of red as you looked at him.

"I…well…prefect?"

You gave him a nod, and he took a deep breath, and kissed you.

"God finally!"

"Subtly, Floyd!"

Jade Leech

You don't know until it's too late, part 2.

"There's something I'd like to show you in my room. My new terrarium has produced interesting results."

You were following Jade to his room, when you realized he was no longer walking with you. You turned around and saw him furrowing his brow at his phone, and typing something.

You walked back over to him to ask what was wrong, and you were suddenly pulled flush against him as he gave you a smug grin.

"Looks like you've trapped me under the mistletoe," he said as though he wasn't the one who had pulled you in.

"Ah well," he sighed, with a surrendering smile, running a gloved finger along your jaw, then tilting your chin up. "if that is what you truly desire, I suppose I shall have to oblige."

Floyd Leech

You have three options.

There are three ways this can go, and it all depends on his mood.

Route 1:

Floyd had joined you in your booth and continued slouching, until he finally just laid himself in your lap.

"Floyd, there is mistletoe over there," Jade said as he dropped off the food you'd ordered.

Floyd groaned, "Shrimpy and I can just kiss over here. What's the big deal about a leaf?"

Route 2:

Floyd immediately grabbed your hand when you set foot in the Monstro Lounge. He giggled excitedly like a kid on Christmas morning.

"C'mon Shrimpy! We gotta kiss under the mistletoe!"

Whether you're flustered or not doesn't matter. Prepare for excited sloppy kisses.

Route 3:

Floyd said nothing as you entered the lounge and he just….scooped you up. Long boy was way too strong to fight off, so you just kind of let him. But that was the only way to get along with Floyd really. You just had to be along for the ride.

Once he reached where he was going, he adjusted your position so that you were pressed to him, and his hands were under your knees, and you wrapped your arms around him for more support.

"Hmmm…. I've caught myself a Shrimpy," he said lowly, but his eyes were glittering with excitement.

"Well, it's too late for you," he leaned in and nibbled your lip. "Because according to Azul and land people's traditions, that leaf above us means you have to kiss me."

Kalim al Asim

Just asks you like a normal person.

The Scarabia holiday party was hopping, obviously. You'd expected nothing less. He'd planned for everything including...

"Y/N! Let's go kiss under the mistletoe!" He said excitedly as he grabbed your hand.

He froze for a minute then looked at you sheepishly.

"Only if you want to, of course, but I'd really like to kiss you, please?"

How could you say no to those puppy eyes?

"Of cour-"

The words weren't out of your mouth when he was pulling you to the mistletoe, and excitedly kissing you all over your face, really anywhere he could reach, like his affection for you was exploding in kiss form.

Jamil Viper

A quiet moment, in private.

You knew Jamil was probably in charge of a lot for the party. He seemed particularly stressed, too, because after this he had to oversee cleanup, and then helping all the students get ready to go home for break.

So you stayed out of his way during the party, and offered to take over cleanup manager, while he helped final inspections and packing.

He finished a little before you, then helped you finish, and invited you for tea in his room. When you both had your tea, he exhaustedly flopped backwards on the bed with a groan.

"That was a lot," he sighed.

"Yeah, but you have a little break now," you said, massaging his shoulders.

He sat up with a start.

"I was supposed to kiss you!"

"Huh?"

Instead of answering, he just started fervently making out with you. Eventually, your lips were free as he held you close and kissed your neck and the rest of your face.

"What do you mean you were supposed to kiss me?"

"Under the mistletoe," he managed to get out. "It's the whole reason Kalim put the stupid thing there."

Vil Schoenheit

He just asks (pt 2) He's not an animal, potato.

The holiday party was a formal affair in the Pomefiore dorm. Vil was seated in his throne, with Rook standing by his side, as his potatoes mingled. His eyes were on a single potato. You.

At length, Rook gave a laugh.

"Roi du poison, just go kiss them. You know you want to."

Vil sighed, and gave a glare to Rook, but it was too late. He was already calling you over to the throne.

You arrived and gave a mock bow.

"Your highness," you said with a grin. "You called?"

"Yes," since you were going to act like a smart ass, he'd play with you a little. "I'd like you to join me under the mistletoe, if you'd be so kind."

Your jaw dropped, and you looked like a blubbering fish. He smiled to himself, and stood up from the throne, gracefully taking your arm and walking to the mistletoe.

He tilted your head up with a single finger and smugly asked, "Well?"

You gave a vigorous nod. He laughed and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

Then he just walked away.

Always leave your audience wanting more.

Rook Hunt

Everything seems normal-WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU COME FROM?

He must have been hiding nearby. Waiting for you. A part of you was chiding yourself for not knowing.

You had intended to walk past the mistletoe into the kitchen, where you would get some more snacks. No one had been around. You were certain.

Rook dropped from the sky just as you stepped under the mistletoe.

"What the fuck!" You shouted, but he was simply giggling, and wrapping his arms around you, trapping your arms to your sides.

"You let your guard down, Mon Trickster."

"Yeah, that's on me," you sighed.

"Is the prey surrendering?" He laughed out in amusement.

You gave an experimental wiggle, then sighed .

"Yeah, looks like it."

He leaned in and spoke against your lips, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

"Then I'll take my prize now."

Epel Felmier

Thinks it's stupid…until it's not.

"Kissin' under the mistletoe is a stupid tradition," Epel said for the fifth time in an hour. But this was the first time you'd heard it. You'd been elsewhere all day. But he'd said it to literally everybody else.

"Yeah, it kind of is," you laughed back, and his frown deepened.

"W-well, it's not that stupid," Epel said.

"Sure it is, I mean who even came up with it?"

"It's not stupid! I'll prove it to ya!"

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you off under the mistletoe, and kissed you hard.

"See? Not stupid," he said smugly. Until he realized what he'd just done. Then his face turned a bright red.

"Fuck," he muttered. " 'S a stupid tradition."

Idia Shroud

Lmao not happening.

He'll die before he goes to the holiday party. And he'll die before he participates in such a stupid normie tradition.

Sorry Idia simps, but you know I'm right.

Malleus Draconia

Over prepares.

Whoever was in charge of decorating….had definitely overdone it.

The ceiling was covered in mistletoe. You couldn't go more than a couple steps without finding yourself under another sprig.

"Child of man, are you enjoying your festivities?" Malleus suddenly boomed from behind you.

"For sure!" You turned to face him with a smile. "Thanks for inviting me!"

Malleus smiles for a moment, then releases the fakest gasp you've ever heard.

"Child of man! It appears we are under the mistletoe!"

You look at the multitudes of mistletoe on the ceiling, and laugh, "I think it'd be weirder if we weren't under the mistletoe."

He furrows his brow and pouts. "Lilia told me about the human holiday tradition where you must kiss if you are under the mistletoe."

Oh.

OH!

You felt your cheeks warm as you put two and two together.

"O-okay, if you want a kiss then-"

His lips are on yours immediately, his hands in your hair and on your back, like if he stops moving them you'll be able to escape his grip.

He pulls away and licks his lips seductively.

"There, we have not broken tradition."

You both walk a couple of steps, then…

"*Fake gasp* Child of man! We are under the mistletoe yet again!"

Lilia Vanrouge

Hijinks and mischiefs.

You have no idea how you ended up under the mistletoe with Lilia. But now he was floating around you in circles, tapping his chin thoughtfully with a satisfied smirk.

"Now what do I do with you, little human? It appears you have fallen in a trap set by the very crafty Lilia Vanrouge."

You felt his breath on the back of your neck, as he hovered close behind you, but not close enough to actually touch.

"I suppose I could let you go."

He whispered.

Then his breath was on your right ear.

"Or I could trap you here forever so that you have to kiss me whenever I want."

He floated in front of you and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Why it hadn't occurred to you to just leave him there, you had no idea. But with all the hovering and breathing on your skin, you thought you would lose your mind if he didn't kiss you soon.

He hummed to himself, then tilted his head and leaned in close. As his lips were about to brush against yours, he abruptly shifted up and pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose.

Then he grinned and flew away.

Cheeky bastard.

Silver

A goodnight kiss.

Silver had fallen asleep halfway through the party. He'd woken up at the end, when you were about to leave. He knew it had been snowing, so he'd offered to walk you back to Ramshackle.

As you reached the door, Silver found himself taken with how beautiful you looked surrounded by the snow. Your eyes glinting from the cold, your hair shining with the glitter of snowflakes. Truly radiant.

"Wait," he said softly as you turned the handle.

You turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. He walked closer, and took your hands in his, rubbing his chilly nose against yours affectionately.

"I don't know if I'll get to see you again before break is over," he whispered. You leaned the rest of the way in and softly kissed him, before slowly pulling away and stepping inside.

"Goodnight Silver," you whispered, and he swore he'd never been more awake than that moment.

Sebek Zigvolt

It's stupid until it isn't (pt 2)

"Y/N keeps walking very close to that mistletoe. Dangerously close," Lilia whispered to Sebek.

"So?" Sebek asked, as though he hadn't been watching you do this for the last half hour while you talked to some random second year in his dorm.

"It looks almost like Donovan is doing it on purpose," Lilia said with a smirk, nodding at the second year in question. At a second glance, Sebek saw Lilia was right. It looked like he was trying to back you into it.

Sebek scowled. "It doesn't matter. It's a silly human tradition of little substance."

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard you laugh loudly at something Donovan had said.

Without a word he marched over to you.

"Human!"

"Oh, hey Sebek!" You turned with a smile. "What's-"

He wrapped a single arm around your waist, and pulled you close as he kissed you under the mistletoe.

He kept the arm around your waist as he turned to Donovan, who had a rather ugly scowl on his face.

"EXCUSE ME DONOVAN, MY HUMAN AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE A PRIVATE CONVERSATION IN THE HALLWAY CLOSET!" Sebek said, louder than even he intended. But your flustered expression, and Donovan's rage, as he walked you to the hallway, made it all worth it.

....

Tag list- @lleoll @shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (2) | Yandere Isekai

Part 1

It’s so irritating for Haruko 

He remembers how he used to try and make noise in the beginning, when the same thing happened to him

But even without your struggling, he’s got more obstacles than he thought

“Tch all these guys getting in our way, maybe I should just kill them.”

“Haru no!”

“Why not, I'm sure you did it when I was trapped.”

“That…that doesn’t make it right!”

“So? Who cares about right when we’re in love? I think it was you who said that.”

Either way with or without your approval he’s figuring out a way to take down his newfound rivals

He kind of hopes they are as ambitious as the friends who recently abandoned him

Too bad they aren’t

In the original story, the crazy thing about the protagonist was that despite their obsessive love for Haruko and general disregard for those who got in the way of that was otherwise really inspiring

Breaking away from their elitist family for their violent morals ironic right

Joining the workforce, easily rising because of their work ethic and intelligence

And all that while beautifully evading a less-than-clean detective trying to pin the blame of random crimes on them

Which of course got them their own male leads attempting to pursue their affections

Always doomed to fall short because of circumstance or the protagonist suavely crushing their hopes to gush about their love

It was a uniquely terrible tragedy for their characters to be written this way

That’s what the random reviewers would say

Which is why you did feel inclined to maybe entertain them a bit more than the original protagonist would have ever done

“Since you are quitting….I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner. For all your hard work of course.”

“Uh sure but I have to be home by sunset.”

“That’s a shame then we’ll have to—Wait. Did you say you would?”

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“YES! Ahem I mean yes I’m fine! I look forward to a nice evening together!”

Unknowingly furthering the obsession the protagonist was barely keeping at bay

“So mind telling me what you ordered that day at the restaurant?”

“I think it was my favorite dish there called the berry delight but I’m not sure. I think they changed the menu since I was there.”

“Why not confirm it later today? That way you can tell me if you did see the missing classmate of yours.”

“But I don’t remember exactly where I sat–”

“Then we’ll just have to sit in every spot until it rings a bell.”

“I don’t know if that’s–”

“Don’t fret. I’ll be paying but there's no way we’ll get to try every table. We’ll have to come back multiple times.”

“Okay…”

“No worries I’m sure you’ll get tired of eating there so we’ll go to some other places to give you a rest. Anywhere you wanted to try?”

You’d be foolish to think you could escape them by agreeing to Haruko’s entrapping of you 

It only takes a day of you not responding to messages that they both eagerly awaiting you at your door

And after the first few times, Haruko shooing them away they begin to get resourceful

“Yeah bud nice try their still out.”

“Hm well say that to my lovely warrant right here.”

“Wait! H-h-hold on! Geez I-i’ll go get them now but they are not going to be happy with you!”

It really doesn’t get better as the guard against the protagonist’s secrets begins to be let down as interested parties slowly make their way in

You don’t have the same ruthlessness or ability to deceive as the protagonist you took over for 

On top of that you never actually read the webtoon so you’ll be left trying to piece together whatever few weak points the protag has

Where if you hadn’t already started to make your pursuers interested all those faults are fuel for their agenda

“It’s so unfortunate that the company can sign off on your absence during this suspicious crime but I don’t mind editing records if you wouldn’t mind spending time with me. That way I can vet your personality myself. Over wine of course!”

It’s overwhelming constantly being pulled in 3 directions 

What’s worse you’re completely oblivious when the latest obstacle in the protag’s perfect life finally makes themselves known

“Hello darling, it took us years to find you but we did it!”

“Don’t look like that come give your Mama a hug!”

Part 3: Coming Soon

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away.