#and you can't sit at my table if you think these stories are ''important and groundbreaking''

[psalmsofpsychosis]

okay but for real, spending an ungodly amount of time in the past 3 years around intellectually deadening media and people who mistake familiarity with brilliance has mostly made me feel insane, but it has also helped me develop the most straightforward approach to media i've had in years. Like, it's gotten very simple for me to gauge where i stand with people's creations and i love the sense of foundational simplicity i've found regarding my taste in media, like

you see, i need the art to tell something new, creative, distinct and interesting. If it cannot do that, then i need it to say something kind, compassionate and useful. and if it can't achieve that either, i find zero value in it, period. I've had so many people approaching me with the implication that demanding creativity and originality from media is somehow "wrong" and "weird" and "too much to ask for", as if i'm the problem for needing and expecting variety and novelty from art, the unspoken idea being "is it not enough that it's pretty? is it not enough that there are conventionally attractive able-bodied & socially sanctioned "hot" people fucking in it?" and no. the pervasive and invasive superficiality in your interpretation of stories and art is utterly boring to me, i really dont care how much "thin hot fuck young person" and "pretty aesthetics" you stick on your utterly dead and deadening narratives. I approach a piece of media and ask "is this telling something new? is this asking a different question whithin an intriguing framework?" and then i'm going to ask "is this kind and understanding of its subject matter? is it curious and openminded? is this information useful to our understanding of the world right now?" and if it cannot answer either question i'll drop it as fast as i picked it up.

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.

[physalian]

How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 5

Movement

Dredging this back up from way back.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much during heavy dialogue scenes. E.g. two characters sitting and talking—do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them…

Gesture

Wave

Frown

Laugh

Cross their legs/their arms

Shift around to get comfortable

Pound the table

Roll their eyes

Point

Shrug

Touch their face/their hair

Wring their hands

Pick at their nails

Yawn

Stretch

Sniff/sniffle

Tap their fingers/drum

Bounce their feet

Doodle

Fiddle with buttons or jewelry

Scratch an itch

Touch their weapons/gadgets/phones

Check the time

Get up and sit back down

Move from chair to tabletop

The list goes on.

Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t—what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

As in, you could say “he’s nervous” or you could show, “He fidgets, constantly glancing at the clock as sweat beads at his temples.”

This site is full of discourse on telling vs showing so I’ll leave it at that.

Epithets

In the Sci-fi WIP that shall never see the light of day, I had a flashback arc for one male character and his relationship with another male character. On top of that, the flashback character was a nameless narrator for Reasons.

Enter the problem: How would you keep track of two male characters, one who you can't name, and the other who does have a name, but you can’t oversaturate the narrative with it? I did a few things.

Nameless Narrator (written in 3rd person limited POV) was the only narrator for the flashback arc. I never switched to the boyfriend’s POV.

Boyfriend had only a couple epithets that could only apply to him, and halfway through their relationship, NN went from describing him as “the other prisoner” to “his cellmate” to “his partner” (which was also a double entendre). NN also switched from using BF’s full name to a nickname both in narration and dialogue.

BF had a title for NN that he used exclusively in dialogue, since BF couldn’t use his given name and NN hadn’t picked a new one for himself.

Every time the subject of the narrative switched, I started a new paragraph so “he” never described either character ambiguously mid-paragraph.

Is this an extreme example? Absolutely, but I pulled it off according to my betas.

The point of all this is this: Epithets shouldn’t just exist to substitute an overused name. Epithets de-personalize the subject if you use them incorrectly. If your narrator is thinking of their lover and describing that person without their name, then the trait they pick to focus on should be something equally important to them. In contrast, if you want to drive home how little a narrator thinks of somebody, using depersonalizing epithets helps sell that disrespect.

Fanfic tends to be the most egregious with soulless epithets like "the black-haired boy" that tell the reader absolutely nothing about how the narrator feels about that black-haired boy, espeically if they're doing so during a highly-emotional moment.

As in, NN and BF had one implied sex scene. Had I said “the other prisoner” that would have completely ruined the mood. He’s so much more than “the other prisoner” at that point in the story. “His partner,” since they were both a combat team and romantically involved, encompassed their entire relationship.

The epithet also changed depending on what mood or how hopeless NN saw their situation. He’d wax and wane over how close he believed them to be for Reasons. NN was a very reserved character who kept BF at a distance, afraid to go “all in” because he knew there was a high chance of BF not surviving this campaign. So NN never used “his lover”.

All to say, epithets carried the subtext of that flashback arc, when I had a character who would not talk about his feelings. I could show you the progression of their relationship through how the epithets changed.

I could show you whenever NN was being a big fat liar about his feelings when he said he's not in love, but his narration gave him away. I could show you the exact moment their relationship shifted from comrades to something more when NN switched mid-paragraph from "his cellmate" to "his partner" and when he took up BF's nickame exclusively in the same scene.

I do the same thing in Eternal Night when Elias, my protagonist, stops referring to Dorian as "it" and "the vampire" instead of his name the moment they collide with a much more dangerous vampire, so jarringly that Elias notices in his own narration—the point of it being so explicit is that this degredation isn't automatic, it's something he has to conciously do, when everyone else in his clan wouldn't think twice about dehumanizing them.

—

Any literary device should be used with intent if you want those layers in your work. The curtains are rarely just blue. Whether it’s a simile with a deliberate comparison or an epithet with deliberate connotations, your readers will pick up on the subtext, I promise.

[peachesofteal]

sighs Price/Simon/mama (female reader) 18+ mdni - threesome M/M/F, spit, daddy, praise, size, lactation, breeding kink. The softest dub con. This is an AU to the original story, Through Me. Price has a wife in Through Me and Simon has mama, neither of them would ever share.

It starts with a dinner.

Red wine decanted. Red meat rare, bleeding all over a plate. Price sits across from Simon at the table, with you at the head. Fixed between them like a flower sprouted in rock.

They're here because Simon has seen the way he watches. He's noticed how his captain considers both himself and you, the way he cocks his head to left and trails his eyes up and down your body.

It's reminiscent of days old. Nights passed when he and John bent pretty things to their will, split open and overwhelmed, gasping and clawing as they systematically broke them apart.

A wild ride. A way to blow off some steam. A thing never meant to be more than what it was. Secret nights in the dark.

There was a wild gleam in John's eyes, weeks ago. Simon only caught the fractured glimpse of it, there one second, gone in the next, but when they locked eyes afterwards, he knew.

They both did.

He wouldn't be doing this unless he trusted his captain implicitly. Trusted him to care for you, to give you what's needed, to see it all the way through. There's something digging around in Simon's brain about it, some imagery he can't escape.

The best way out is through.

They end up in the living room, after dinner. There's still half a bottle of wine left, and when he pulls you in for a kiss it's there on his tongue, purpled fruit and acid, alcohol loosening the tension in your neck, your spine.

Simon sits on the couch next to John. Not yet touching, but if both were shift their legs, they'd be there, knee to knee. "C'mere mama." Simon spreads wide, patting the inside of his thigh, indicating where you're to sit, and when you settle on his lap, half turned to face his captain, he rests a hand on his thigh. "Did you enjoy dinner, sweet girl?"

"It was very good." You peek at John through your lashes, demure, shy. "Thank you for cooking."

"Was my pleasure." He smiles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and you return it as Simon rubs circles on your waist. He can feel the fabric of your thong beneath the dress you chose tonight, thin, narrow fabric stretched over your cunt, nearly non-existent barrier separating you from the craven.

It's important you're not so worked up, too early. He needs to keep you torpid, wine drenched and saccharine, before working you up to a frenetic pace, so he moves his hand to your back, stroking up and down slowly, using an aimless conversation about work as a distraction. "Think Laswell's gonna be out for this next one?"

"Don't know. Suppose so. We'll need her. Can't get over half the hurdles without her support." His legs spread, marginally. enough that his knee is touching your feet, your toes, and you glance down. Simon observes your thought process in real time; intrigue, confusion clearing before it ever really takes root. You brush it off.

But he sees the opportunity, target hot to strike.

He moves his hand under the hem of your dress, up your thigh. You tense, blinking at him in confusion, and he brushes his lips against your ear. "Relax, honey." He finds heat between your legs, circling over your panties, and you squeak, locking onto his wrist.

"Si-"

"John was so nice to have us over for dinner, wasn't he?" You nod, shakily, as Simon peppers your cheek, your jaw with kisses. "Fed us so well. Don't y'think we should say thank you?" His cock is solid beneath your ass, and he flexes his hips, driving the point home, still stroking over your panties. John is locked in, watching the flutter of your dress, staring beneath your knees.

"Um, I," he presses directly on your clit, stealing your words, whatever you meant to say dying on a whine. Your lips part beneath him, already slick, already wanting.

"Put your heels on John's thighs, mama." You stare at him, eyes wide, and he gives you an encouraging nod. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you." The angle provided when you lift your feet tilts you, and John turns.

"Gonna touch you, love," he carefully palms your knees, "right here," turning so that you're now facing him head on, toes flexing on both of his thighs. Simon peels your dress back, shucking it up around your belly, and then parts your legs. His captain huffs a short groan.

"Jus' want John to be able see, is all." He hooks a finger into the cotton, and pulls to the side, exposing your weeping pussy to both of them, glistening in the evening light. "Look at you, sweet girl. All wet and ready for us?" You whimper, staring at John between your knees, no doubt shocked. Scandalized. "Isn't she pretty?" He nods.

"Very." He reaches, and you flinch when his fingers trace down your slit, but Simon holds your hips still. "Need some attention, eh? Little thing, already swollen." He flits back up to your bud, pressing next to where Simon has a thumb on you, and they work in circles, both swirling, your hips jerking with each cycle.

John pulls away, it's a slow game, this one. One they've played before, and he stays focused between your legs, letting Simon lead you, submerge you in the experience, plunge you into it. He applies more pressure, enjoying your gasps, the way you grip his shoulder.

He's almost there, almost got you, and then-

"Daddy-" John smiles. So does Simon. He pushes a finger in your hole, searching for that spot, the soft one that makes you scream, heel of his palm firm against your clit. "Ah, fuck, p-please-"

"You're so wet, mama. Soakin' my hand. Do you need to cum? Want to show the captain the way your pussy flutters?" You moan, head tipped back, pulse throbbing in your neck. You tighten around his finger, and he draws back to slide in two, carefully stretching, sawing you wide. Your knees try to close, probably on instinct, but John pushes them open again. When you hold them there, he murmurs low.

"Good girl. Keep em open for me. Want to watch your hole, see how it's going to take my cock." A shudder rocks you, muscles in your lower belly tensing, and your spine curls forward, fingers knotted in the collar of Simon's shirt.

"There it is, good, mama, that's so good. c'mon-" You squeeze, and squeeze him, and then explode, crying out, legs shaking, chasing the pressure, carnal lust glittering in your eyes.

Simon doesn't give you a reprieve. Your sopping cunt cries on his hand as he pulls free, and they both move, John's cock coming free from his pants, thick, tip red and leaking, and he slaps it against your clit. You're still dazed from the orgasm, gripping onto Simon, and he pulls you against his chest, hands behind your knees, folding you open. Your pussy flowers for Johnny, blooming for them both. Simon's so hard he aches, and he manages to shuck his pants down, cock hard against your back.

It occurs to him, John might want to have a taste of you. Drink from you, enjoy how sweet you are. "Let's get this off." He curls you forward, and tugs at your dress, deliciously pleased when you help the effort, arms twisting behind your back to try to free your heavy tits. He shifts you so you're more on his thigh, cock straining against your hip. He groans when he brushes your nipples, dots of liquid beading, slick honey spilling over the curve of your breasts. He squeezes them, making eye contact with John, who licks his lips.

John dips his head, you jerk back into Simon. "Easy," he coos, hand firm on your belly, "John's gonna have a taste. Don't want this all to go to waste, d'you? Don't wanna be selfish sweet girl." His captain's mustache brushes against the sensitive skin, mouth closing around your nipple and sucking, a sensation you seem to enjoy, because you tip your head back on Simon's shoulder and groan.

"Oh, oh. God." John's jaw connects with Simon's fingers, where he's still helping squeeze you into his mouth, and he reaches between your legs, feeling for the weight of his captain's cock, giving him a firm squeeze before lining him up with your entrance. He pulls off your breast with a satisfying pop, mustache wet, chin glistening.

He pushes, slowly, and your muscles go solid, legs instinctively shifting. John grips the back of your thigh, burrowing into the fat there, still forcing his way inside you. They're both so much bigger than you, wider than your pussy allows, longer than you should be able to stretch. "Relax, love." He coaches, pulling out to only batter his way back in, and Simon's hand roams between your legs, feeling the curve of your hole struggling to take his captain, stroking up his length to feel how much is left. You're panting, squirming, and John laughs, echo of a chuckle pulling a smile from Simon.

"J-John." You gasp, cunt stretched tight, and when his pelvis meets your ass, the tears spill over your cheeks. "It's t-too much, you're-"

"Fuckin' hell." He snarls, snapping in and out, bending at the waist to close his mouth over your nipple, big hands cradling your thighs. It's nasty, foul, the slick slap of his balls swinging into you, the wet sound filling the air over your wild moans. Simon plays with your clit, sloshing over and over it, holding you steady as you writhe. Your second orgasm approaches like a freight train, so fast, so violent, and Simon urges you on.

"Cum on my captain's cock, honey. Yeah, that's it- let him feel it." Your toes curl and you explode, squeezing so tight John has to seal his hips to you to keep himself inside.

"Christ." He curses, and Simon smoothes a hand over your forehead.

"Such a good girl, huh? Never felt anything better." He coos, kissing your temple, John grunting out an agreement of sorts, grinding in a circle before pulling long and spearing you open again, bucking into your cunt like a wild animal. Your tits bounce with him, eyes closed and pretty mouth parted, Simon licking inside, dribbling spit onto your tongue that you swallow, again and again, until John's pace becomes frantic, and he bites out a demand.

"Ask your daddy if I can give you my cum, love." You're delirious, overwhelmed and greedy now, pliant with two orgasms and promises of more.

"Daddy, daddy, p-please, can he... can he?" You manage the bumpy plea between bounces.

"Y'want him to pump you full of cum, mama? Want him to give it to you?"

"Y-yeah, yeah. Give it to me." John's jaw is gnashed so tight, Simon can see the muscle flexing, and he slams into you, shoving you further into his arms.

"Here it comes, fuck-." He snarls, and then he shoves forward once more, head tipped back, gladiator in his glory, battle won.

He pulls away, cock slipping free, covered in you, curly hair at the root soaked, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Simon tucks his fingers inside, feeling the mess of his captain's load, scooping some out and bringing it to your lips. "Suck, honey. Lick 'em clean f'me." You do, wrapping your tongue around them, swallowing hungrily with half lidded eyes.

"Sit rep?" John grunts.

"Y'okay mama?" He palms your belly.

"Mhmm." You're suspended in a dream, voracious appetite soothed.

"Need you to take more, sweet girl. Can you do that?" He will honor it, if you say no. Clean you up and get you home, tucked into bed-

but you nod, blinking, and John smacks your ass. "Up, then." He pulls you onto all fours, massive hands pulling your cheeks up and apart, exposing your tight little furl to both of them. Simon glances over, and John sucks into the pocket of his cheek. He follows suit, and-

they spit onto your asshole, shiny, iridescent globs coating it, soaking it, slipping down to where you're leaking strings of John's cum. He thumbs your ring, pushing, testing, slowly sinking inside as you twitch and try to push him out. "Gonna take this one day." It's a promise for another time, and you turn over your shoulder, eyes wide. "Gonna stretch your little asshole out with my cock, mama."

"Simon-" Your voice borders on cautionary.

"Not tonight." John stands, sinking to his knees on the opposite of the couch, half hard cock starting to fill as it looms in front of your face, and Simon lines himself up from behind, impaling you on his cock in one swift thrust, jerking your hips back to meet his.

You scream. Mouth open wide, and at the same time, John shoves forward, cock finding purchase in your mouth, hands cradling your jaw. "Easy, pretty girl." He strokes your cheek, natural rhythm of Simon fucking you deep forcing you on and off John's length, soft turning quickly to hard, stretching back towards your throat.

"Fuck, mama. Feel so fuckin' good. So wet, full of cum already." You're still so tight, so warm, soaking him to the bone. Your pussy squelches around him, and you jerk back to meet him, hips rolling as much as you can stand it, sharp moans vibrating from the back of your tongue. "Not gonna last." He warns.

"Me either," John's biceps are strained, corded muscle looping all the way to his wrists. "Mouth's so good on 'er. Gonna fill you up from both ends tonight, love." You're crying now, Simon can hear the change in your tone, the way your voice breaks, and it only makes him fuck you harder, desperate, primal urges roaring to life in the back of his mind.

"Gonna put it deep, mama. Give y'another baby." You clench. "You like that? Want daddy to fuck another baby into you?" You make some sort of sound, unintelligible, but it doesn't matter. "We won't know who's it is. Could end up with John's baby, yeah? Get nice and fat with him inside you. Belong to both of us." he groans it, thrusting and thrusting until he's slamming into you and so is John, both men sweating, grunting, gripping onto you like their lives depend on it.

It doesn't take much more than that before Simon is curling over your back, chest pressed against you, arm snaked between your legs. He pulls you into another orgasm with him, your thighs clamped around his arm, and John holds you up by the shoulders, spilling down your throat as Simon floods your womb.

The silence that follows is old hat, but new with you. John disappears to grab water, warm, wet wash cloths, and Simon rocks you on the couch, holding you tight, kissing every spare inch of your skin. "Did so good for me, mama." You sigh, cozying closer, and when John kneads your thigh, you spread them, allowing him to wipe between your legs, clean you as best he can, before settling on the other side.

They stay like that, for a while. In the quiet, the sound of your breathing, before Simon manages to get your dress over your head and to the door.

There's no goodbye.

There never is.

[aperrywilliams]

If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

Part 2

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Spencer's POV

-----

There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them. 

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-" 

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this? 

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around. 

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking. 

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago. 

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers." 

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now. 

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing. 

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you? 

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

-

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could. 

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

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Next -> Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

[estinininininen]

look i've read/watched/played a lot of fantastical stories and i love creative displays of how mind-boggingly alien different cultures can possibly get.

but there is something just. so viscerally frightening to me about ishgard and their communal table salt lick and i can't stop thinking about it. ishgard is already framed as a foreign place to the warrior of light/the player so everyone in-story is patiently explaining the importance of the church of halone and ishgard's history because everyone knows the big stuff has to be explained to an outsider. but something small the ishgardians think is normal would slip right past.

i'm ready to laugh myself sick any time of day at the idea of the warrior sitting down to eat at fortemps manor for the first time, emotionally drained and scared. and one of these finicky nobles you have to trust your life with just picks up a pale rock you thought was a centerpiece with a curiously smooth, maybe even already damp worn surface, opens their mouth, sticks out their tongue, and SCHLURPS

i would feel such visceral horror. briefly wonder if i had fallen in faerie-land/the dark world/the upside-down. it would only increase as i look left and right and everyone else continues eating calmly. only maybe if haurchefant were there would someone realize how weird that would seem to outsiders and laugh at my expression.

it's like in the simpsons when homer time travels, sits back down to dinner, and discovers the butterfly effect gave everyone lizard tongues. it's so close to a normal dinner time interaction and yet incredibly far. you think ishgard must have a weird supersition about it to explain. "what, is - is it bad luck to break up a salt lump?" you ask

"no" haurchefant says. "it's just always been done this way"

and so often in any society there is no better explanation than just that but this is so fuckkng weird it would briefly make you question all normal human instincts if ishgard thinks this is okay. that is such silly, terrifying, and superfluous world bulding. it's great.

[gauloiseblue]

And at every table / I'll save you a seat

(Gaz × Reader)

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

Tags: fluff, smut, family issue, friends to lovers, slow burn, [A bit of warning] tradition view on virginity and marriage, piv sex

Words: 9.8k

It all started with a little request

"Will you take my virginity?"

He's taken aback by the ask, but he quickly regains his composure.

"No." He replied.

You look at him for a while, before you mutter out, "I understand."

"Wait," He grabs your hand before you could turn around, "Let's talk about it."

He observes the hesitation rising from your face when you look away, "I don't think you'd understand."

"You haven't tried yet." He smiles gently, "Try me, (Name)."

"... It's a long story."

"I got time for it." He told you, "Tea?"

With that, he invites you into his place.

You're silent when he offers you a seat, and he lets you sit with your thoughts as he works on the drink. It's not your first visit to his apartment, since you've been here quite often. But you never came with a somber mood, and he didn't know what to say to cheer you up.

He hands you the cup, before he pours the tea from the pot. He hears you murmur something, and though he doesn't quite catch it, he can roughly guess it.

"So," He began as he sat down across the table, "Would you mind telling me why you suddenly wanna lose it?"

You had blown the steam away from the cup, before you took a sip. He watches you take your time with the drink, until you're ready to talk.

"I know that I said I'm keeping myself until marriage, but I don’t think it's possible now." You bit your lip, as you fidgeted with the handle of your cup, "Because I'm going to be wed to someone I didn't know."

He raises his brows at your statement, "That practice still exists today?"

"Yes, it still does." You begin to explain the outline of the story. "My family came from a community that still holds an orthodox belief. My parents aren't conservative, but they can't escape the tradition either. When they told me about the engagement, I begged them to call it off, yet they asked me to go with it. But I don't want that. I don't want to be trapped in a loveless marriage." Your eyes shift as you hold back tears, "I know that they love me, if they don't, I won't be here. Away from home."

You quickly wipe your cheek before you continue, "The man who'll be my husband is highly respected in the community, but he's at the same age as my mother. I don't know why he asked for my hand, we barely talked. But for the last few months, he began to send me gifts. It's customary for a suitor to give the girl presents as a way of courting. Anyway, I won't bore you with the details."

He waits for you to gather your thoughts, before you start again.

"To be a bride, it's common for a girl to go through a ceremony, to see if the girl is suitable for marriage. I have to fulfill all of certain criteria to be recognized as a proper fiancée." You snort when you mention it, "Ky, you're a smart person, you must've known what that means."

He crosses his arms when you subtly ask him to make the conclusion. "If you fail the virginity test, then you're ineligible to be a bride."

"There are other factors that can annul the engagement, but yes, purity is the most important aspect for the bride to have." You stated, "If I fail that test, then I can be free from the custom."

"Won't you be shamed for… not being pure?" He carefully asked.

"Yes, but It's better than the other option."

You went quiet after the confession, as if you've retreated back to your shell.

He gazes at you long and closely, while a sense of familiarity comes to rest on him. The way you carry yourself reminds him of the old you—who couldn't look him in the eyes when you both were strangers.

"Say," He begins, as he rubs his face, "If I were to help you, what then?"

"Nothing, we can pretend it never happened."

"You know it's not possible, right?" He frowned, "We can't go back like we used to, at least I can't see it that way."

"I know, but I don’t have a lot of choices." You replied with a sigh, "I can never sleep with a stranger, and I can't do it myself either." You told him, "I have to lose it somehow, but I don’t know how. And the reason I asked you this because you seem to have a lot of experience, so—"

You stop when he presses his hand against his lips. While it's impossible to tell if he blushes or not, you swear you see a red tint on his cheeks.

"You're not…?"

He scratches his neck, as he coyly replies, "My ma raised me well, (Name). Of course I'd save myself before marriage."

"Oh—" You cover your mouth in shock, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked you—"

"It's alright." He smiles, "How much time you have left until the ceremony?"

"About a month." You answered.

"I'll help you then." He said with such ease, that it made you stare at him wide-eyed, "But let me take you to a date first."

"What," You gulped, "What do you—Why? I thought… you said no…?"

"I hate seeing you like this, and I don't want you to resort to one night stand." He told you, "Besides, you didn't force me into this."

"But I did make you sympathize with me." You shook your head, "That's why you changed your mind."

"I said no because I knew you're saving yourself for marriage."

"But you said that you did too."

"That makes us even then." He tilts his head, "I'll take yours, and you'll take mine."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of it. Not because you're at loss for words, rather, you have too many questions in your head.

"You can decide how many dates we'll go before you decide if you want to do it." He reaches out to squeeze your hand, "How's that sound?"

Although you're still unsure at that time, you can't help but nod at the offer.

The first time he takes you on a date, it's on Sunday, 07:20 PM, at an independent cinema. He phoned you earlier, telling you that they're going to play an old romantic film.

"I thought you like mystery?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't pick that on the first date." He grins, "Besides, the movie has Binoche in it."

By the time you arrive at the cinema, you spot him talking to another man by the ticket booth. He turns his head when he hears your call, before the other man leans to the side to see you.

"You're early." You told him.

"I could say the same to you." He said with a smile, "The movie's starting in 10, c'mere."

He extends his hand towards you, and you take it with a little bit of apprehension.

The man whistles when he drapes his arm around your shoulders, "I see ya bringing a date tonight."

"Yeah," He turned to you, "Ain't she pretty?"

His friend chuckles when your face turns red, "Can't argue with that."

"Well, we'll talk later. I'm gonna show her around for a bit." He gives the man a pat on his arm, "You still have that shrine of yours?"

"'Course!" He warmly retorted, "Wouldn't close it for ya."

He mutters something back to him, and the man gives him a thumb up. When the two of you part with him, you ask him about the shrine.

"It's just a room full of merchs." He explains, "He's a movie fanatic, so when he liked a film, he'd find any of the collectibles."

"Like graphic t-shirts?"

"More than that." He grins, "You'll see."

At the end of the hall, there's a door smaller than the theater one. He opens it for you, and guides you inside.

The room is roughly the size of a humble apartment, but it's filled with many posters and other things you have to see up close to know what they are. Your eyes scan the movie posters that are mounted on the wall, before you turn to a doll. It's a porcelain doll, adorned with old-fashioned clothes. You lift the little paper beneath it and begin to read.

"It's from 'Interview With The Vampire'." You hear him say, "It's one of the collections that he's proud of."

"I've seen that movie years ago." You murmured, while tracing the edge of the paper with your finger, "I didn't understand what the story was about, until I read the book."

"You read the novel?"

You nod, "I still read it from time to time. Oh, would you look at that." He turns his gaze towards the spot you point at, "Didn't we watch that movie together?"

"Mulholland Drive?" He rubs his chin, "Didn't you say you hate it?"

"Well, I did. But it's been stuck in my head since then." You turn on your heel and skim through the titles of the posters, "I see a lot of foreign movies but not french." You commented, "Isn't he a movie fanatic?"

"He is. Just not a hypocritical one." He replied, "He told me that many of the French directors are lecherous, and they like to put their fantasies into their movies. Guess what caused them to earn a good rating?"

"I don't know, affinity bias?"

"Precisely." He grins, "He likes a few French films though, like Plein Soleil, Amélie, Playtime,"

"Léon?" You smirk.

"He'd berate you if you ever mentioned that name in front of him."

You laugh at his playful warning, "I think I like him."

"Too bad, he already has a wife." He circles his arm around you, "Why don't I introduce you to someone else?"

You roll your eyes at him, as you're so used to hearing those words.

"Yeah, his name is Kyle Garrick, and he's currently single."

"Come on, you loved it the first time you heard it."

"Well, I did laugh at it, but it's getting old." You jest as you poke in his ribs, "Try something else, and maybe I'll fall for it."

And he gives you a response that gets you burst into a laughing fit. You shove him away as you retort back, ignoring the quiet tension that begins to hang in the air.

When the two of you enter the theater, he places his hand on your back as he guides you to your seat. Though it's just a small gesture, it sends a warm feeling to your stomach.

He settles down beside you, and his arm brushes against yours. The seats are quite broad compared to the commercial cinema, but still, there's not much space left between you and him. You try not to think about it too much, as you rest your hand on the same armrest as his.

The opening of the film with the scenery of a small town, before it shows the greetings between churchgoers and the neatly dressed gentleman. It then cuts to a standing crowd, who begins their worship with singing. You frown when you listen to the narrator, as she portrays the minds of the villagers as singular. As the hymn comes to an end, the parishioners bend down to sit on the pews, before the pastor climbs up to give a sermon. The colors of the scene contrasts with the next bit, as it cuts to two figures in the middle of the snow. The figures are covered with red hoods that they hold tightly as they walk against the wind.

The movie soon changes right after the wind blows the church door open. It focuses on the two figures earlier—a mother, and a daughter, as they begin to settle down at their new house.

Scene after scene, the narratives begin to blur into one, and you let yourself be immersed into the flow of the film. Instinctively, your body leans forward as you watch the chocolate and the store begin to take form. Yet in doing so, you missed the look your friend gave.

When the first conflict happens, you can't help but show your dislike towards the man—the well-dressed man from the beginning. But it soon dissipates when the woman invites her guest inside.

They talk for a little while, and the way she—her guest behaves, the clumsiness that she shows—that makes her look like a cornered cat, it almost looks surreal, as if you're watching yourself from the future scope. You press your hand against your lips, as the crease between your eyes deepens.

Perhaps it's just the right moment, or perhaps your thoughts spill over into his, that he decides to push your head gently onto his shoulder.

You were taken aback by the gesture, but you welcomed it. You murmur something to him, as you wrap your hand around his arm.

"What?" He asked in a low tone.

"Nothing." You told him while hiding your smile.

Kyle Garrick. You wonder if kind has always been his middle name. If it's not kind, then it must be thoughtful. It must be nice, to receive such affection from a man like him. In the midst of thoughts cartage, you begin to ponder, if it's alright for you to keep them from someone who's more deserving.

At the end of the movie, you slip your hand from his arm, as you stand up from your seat. You still remember the way he understands, and doesn't push further. He keeps the rest of the night in a lighthearted mood, though his hand lingers on you a little longer, and his gaze doesn't stray further from you, even just a little bit.

That night, you lay down on your bed with your thoughts as your lullaby. It doesn't help you sleep, but it does keep you company for the night.

The next day, you ask him if he's free on Friday.

It's curious how fast he responded back, considering that he still got jobs to do, particularly reports. When you read the message, you bite your lips as you type a new one.

'Wanna have dinner together?'

A new chat pops up in a second.

'Sure'

And another one after.

'When?'

'Today' You reply, 'Takeouts?'

'Let me cook for ya'

And it's settled.

When you show up on his doorstep, he opens it up the first time you ring the bell.

"Hey," He greets you with a grin, and you notice a red stain on his shirt, "Come in."

"Smells good." You commented as you stepped in, "What are you cooking?"

"Bolognese." He replied, "I haven't decided on the pasta yet. What do you want? Pappardelle or spaghetti?"

"Fusilli?" You said, before a smile betrays your lie, "Anything's fine, really."

"Pick a color then. Yellow or blue?"

"Yellow."

"Pappardelle then."

You thought it's just a random decider, until you saw the color of the packaging.

"Guess you're used to people who say it's up to you." You remarked while you climbed on the bar stool.

"You can say that." He chuckles as he drops the pasta into the pot.

"Were they your dates?"

"Pshh, no. Just my little brothers and sister. You know the story."

"I know." You trailed off and looked away, "But you must've had those moments in your dates."

"Like what you did earlier?" He smirks and you groan at him.

"Come on, you know I'd never complain about your choice."

"I know, that's why I like you."

"You always say that."

The conversation ends with a quiet chuckle, as he goes back to watch over the boiling water. You sense a reply from him that should be laid bare, but he left it at surmise.

"Dinner's ready." He announced, as he lifted up the plates from the counter. You follow him to the dining table, and you pull a seat while he places the dishes on the table.

As the two of you dig in, you quietly bite on the broad pasta. You might not be aware of it, but you always chew on your food longer when you're preoccupied with your mind.

You hear his voice as you snap out of your thoughts, but not clear enough for you to grasp.

"What?"

"It's alright if you wanna back down." He repeated, as he swirled the pasta with his fork, "I agreed to help you because you asked me to, but I know it might make things awkward between us, so."

"Oh, that's not—it's not about that, it's just," You chewed on your lip, "It's just that, when I think about you, I can't help but think that… I'll end up stealing something from you." You shook your head, "You could wait for the right person, you're not obligated to help me—"

"Well, I want to."

"I know, that's why I feel bad because I knew you wouldn't hesitate to help." You frown, "You're too kind for me, Ky. Sometimes I'm scared that I might get the wrong idea."

You almost jump when he holds your hand, and witness the fortitude that reflects in his eyes. "Go ahead then, go on and get the wrong idea. Because it might be true after all."

The way he said it—with a clear, unmistakable voice, drags you into silence. You can't find the words to say, nor the right response for his statement. While you're not entirely sure about the truth, you can see the trace of it on his face.

Your throat begins to tighten, and you try to swallow down whatever's in the way.

You know that he's hopeful that you'd give him some kind of clarity, but you don't. You couldn't.

After the dinner, you don’t extend your visit as you excuse yourself from staying.

"Let me take you home."

You shake your head, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

You shoot him a smile, "Yes, don't worry about me."

He seems hesitant for a moment, but it disappears the moment you pull him into a hug.

"I'll call you when I'm home."

He picks up the phone at the second ringtone, and asks you if you're home. You give an affirmative answer, before the line turns silent.

The words that had wrapped around your throat came back to the surface. They beg to be let out of your tongue, but you bite them down. Not now. Not yet.

The call ends not long after, as you both say goodnight. As you sit down on the vanity stool, you look at the reflection of you in the mirror. It's the shape that you've known so well, and yet, you don't recognize it at the same time. Has your face already been like this? Is this what he always sees whenever you're around?

Absent-mindedly, you reach up to touch your lips. What would you taste like, if he ever kissed you?

Unfortunately, you can only imagine for now.

Four days would pass, and you soon find yourself waiting for the bell. He had messaged you earlier, telling you that he'll pick you up at your place.

The destination of your date is still unknown, since you only asked him to take you to somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can talk without the presence of curious ears. Of course, the first thought that came to your mind is the privacy of your home, but he got another idea, and kept it as a surprise.

"Bring a jacket with you." He told you on the phone, "You might need it."

But you don't know how cold it'll be, so you stick with a cardigan.

When he gets to your place, he doesn't ring the bell. Instead, you hear your phone rings, before a honk of a car announces his arrival. You walk out of your place and lock the door behind.

"Where are we going?" Is the question you asked him after you got into his car.

"You'll find out." He replied with a grin.

He doesn't give you any clue, other than the paper bag on the back seat. He also told you that it's a one-hour drive, so it's alright if you want to rest your eyes.

"I'm fine." You said, as you turned on the radio.

The ride is predominantly filled with songs, and the occasional chat between you and him.

On the other day, you either wouldn't stop talking, or you'd sit in comfortable silence. But that morning, both options seem unreachable.

"I'm sorry." You uttered quietly.

"What?"

"Sorry that I dragged you into this." You muse, "And I'm sorry that I made such a big deal out of it. I made things worse, didn't I?"

"Why'd you say that?"

"Because things have already changed between us, even when we haven't done anything."

"You think so?"

"Yes," You divulged, "When you said those things, I couldn't help but think that maybe you really meant it. But then again, you never told me anything before. Anything that could… indicate something."

"Are you sure?" You frown at his reply, "Think again, (Name)."

"What—?"

The car comes to a halt, and you snap your head towards the window. The usual view of the city has been replaced with trees. You stare at the board near the entrance, and you notice the words 'National Park' on it.

"We're here." He stated while unbuckling the seat belt.

You soon follow him as you push the door open. The cold air rushes inside, and makes you shiver.

He offers you his hand when you step out of the car. "Let's take a walk."

The trail that he chooses isn't as rough as you thought, and you can easily keep up with his speed. Though you knew that he slowed it down for you.

As you walk by his side, you feel a tug on your hand. It was his hand, and he wrapped it around yours. He smiles when you turn to him, and mutters out the same line he used whenever you're out with him.

"Wouldn't want to lose you here."

And it just clicked. Every piece of the puzzle just falls into the right place, and you begin to see the whole picture. He never changed at all, it was you who's changing.

"You like me."

You feel his hold tightens, before he loosens it up a second after.

"Like is an understatement."

"I'm afraid to use the stronger word."

"I know." He spoke softly, "That's why I never said it."

At the end of the path, a quiet lake waits for the two of you, providing a place for a silent conversation. The water is calm, but the breeze is colder than before. You hug yourself, trying to savor the little warmth that your cardigan provides. It doesn't take seconds before you hear a rustle, and feel yourself wrapped in a parka.

"Told you to bring a jacket." He murmured, as he held the garment for you.

His coat is warm, as if it has absorbed the heat of his skin. Your hands slip into the sleeves, before you roll up the cuffs. You watch his face as he zips up the parka, before he returns your gaze.

Perhaps it's him who leans closer, or it's you who wraps your hands around him first, but in the end, your lips meet with his. The kiss you both share is soft, and filled with longing. It's impossible to tell who's feeling it belongs to, but it envelopes around you like a mist.

When the two of you part, you smile as you murmur against his lips.

"I like you."

He softly chuckles as he cups your face, "I'm glad."

You both recognize the nuance of it, but no one speaks of it louder than a heartbeat.

I like you. What an understatement.

—

"Why do you like me?"

He lifts his head from the magazine when he hears your question.

"I could tell you all of the reasons, but at the end of the day, I simply like you."

"Really?" You roll your eyes, "Is that your way of saying you don't know?"

He lets out a small laugh, while he closes the mag. "Fine, I'll tell you." He begins, "I can't remember when it was, but we're pretty close at that time. We were just talking that night, and you asked me if I chose to be the giver because I felt uncomfortable receiving. I never thought about it, but it made sense. When I said yes, you told me, if I don't learn to receive, then I'd end up hurting other people. Because I denied their affection."

You lift your brows at the recount, "Did I really say that?"

"Yes, but it's not your words that got me the most. It's the way you broke my logic, and helped me see things from a new perspective." He stated, "It felt… nice, to be understood by you." He rubs the nape of his neck, "Well, what about you? Why do you like me?"

"I'm not sure." You pucker your lips, "I think I've always liked you. Because you're thoughtful, and it's something that's easier to say than done."

"Just that?"

"What? You want more?"

"Yeah," He smirked, "Go on."

You look at him long and hard, before you decide, "No."

"Why?"

"I'd say something embarrassing."

"Like what?"

"... I'm not telling."

He jumps on the sofa as he seizes your body. You squeal when he digs his fingers on your waists, and you shout, "Cut it out!"

He chuckles when you try to slap his hand away and fail, "C'mon, tell me." He grins, while his hands don't stop tickling you.

"Stop—I'm not telling—!"

When he had you pinned down, you kicked around to get him off you. Which, unfortunately, ends up knocking the empty glass on the table. You both watch in horror as the glass falls off the surface, and into the floor.

But it doesn't shatter. Instead, it bounces twice, before it rolls in a half circle. When it stops moving, it takes about five seconds before the two of you burst into laughter.

"That's the second time you almost broke it."

"Sorry." You muttered through your giggle, "But whose fault was it?"

"Me." He grinned, before slowly bent down to kiss you.

Just like the other kisses you've shared, it goes on for more than a minute. He gently guides you as he cups your cheeks. Your arms find their way around his neck, and keep him close to you.

He leans his forehead against yours, as he catches his breath. You observed the way his chest rises and falls while you follow the same rhythm. Maybe you soften at the sight of him, or maybe a kiss'd really loosen up someone's tongue, that's why the words fall out of your mouth so easily.

"I like your kisses."

He raises his head as he turns his gaze on you. "Was that the thing you're embarrassed to admit?"

You give his shoulder a punch.

"Hey." He retorted with a chuckle, "'M just kidding."

He presses his lips on your cheek, before he lays down on your side. You shift your body to give him space, and settle your head on his arm, while the other one is wrapped around you.

"Comfy?"

You nod, "You're warm."

"Glad to be your heater."

You bury your face into his chest as you giggle.

"I just wish you're portable," You jest, "So I could use you whenever I'm cold."

"Who says I'm not portable?"

"Well, you can't be with me 24/7."

"Careful what you wish for." He smirked.

You raise your brow at him, "Is that a warning?"

"Maybe."

"Mmm," You rested your finger on your chin, "Didn't sound like one."

"Really?" He teases, "Then you won't mind if I keep you here for the night."

"I'm busy tomorrow, so no." You hold your chuckle when you see him pout, "But I'm free next weekend, you can keep me until Monday if you want."

A glint of mischief crosses his eyes, as he pulls you into a kiss.

"I can't wait."

But waiting doesn't feel longer than you expect, since you meet him for dinner almost everyday. If one of you couldn't make it, you both would be on the call that night.

Talking has been a part of your relationship, even when the two of you still carried the friends title. You could talk with him for hours, and bring up every topic into it. Doesn't matter how random or strange. But there was a line that you both couldn't cross, something that kept the two of you in circles. And you thought it'd stay that way, until you stepped into the other side.

It's a wonder how a familial issue could push your relationship to this point, since you wouldn't think twice about him for the sake of friendship. Now that you've crossed the line, you have nothing to hide from him.

While it might be a good thing, it also leads you to unknown territories. When you're with him, you can no longer ignore the tension that fills the room. Any time that he kissed you, or held you tight in his arms, you couldn't help but think if this would be it. This would be the right time for it. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask.

Maybe that's the reason why—after the 2:01:31 mark on the call, you bring up the obvious question to light.

"Y'know Ky," You start, "I don't have much experience with sex, and neither do you. So how exactly are we gonna do it?"

The line goes silent for a moment, before you hear him draw a breath in. "Are you afraid it'll hurt?"

"No—I mean, yes. But that's not my point." You sigh, "I just—I don't know, I feel like I need to learn about it before getting to the act."

There's a subtle hint of a rustle that you could only guess coming from the papers, "It'll definitely help if we do some research beforehand."

"But where do we start?" You asked, "Porn?"

"I wouldn't recommend that. It's… unrealistic."

"What then? 'A guide to sex' book? 'Sex for dummies'?"

You catch the sound of his chuckle from the speaker. "Only grandmas would read that."

"I would read that if it helps me prepare."

He hums, and your ear picks up the sound of clink, like a metal is placed against a wood. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How far have you gone with your partner in the past?"

You hum as you think back, "I think I stopped at heavy petting. I was in high school back then and I was curious. But it hurted, and I was bleeding after the session." You snort when you recall the moment, "Of course I freaked out, but when I secretly tested myself out, I found that I'm still a virgin. I could only guess that he tore something with his nail. That's why I bled."

"I see."

"What about you?" You asked, "How far have you gotten with it?"

"Same as you." He responded, "Fingering, oral, hand job, all the foreplay stuff."

You bite your lip as you hear his tone becomes heavier with each word, something that you notice whenever you dive into a risky topic.

"Should we give it a try?"

There's a pause from the other side of the call, before you receive a reply. "You sure you want it?"

"Yes." You breathe out, "We gotta start somewhere."

Your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, as you wait for him to answer.

"Alright." He mused, and you felt the warmth creeping up from your lower belly. "Is the plan still on?"

"What plan?"

"You staying over for the weekend?"

You smile against the phone as you reply, "Of course."

"I'll be waiting then."

Friday evening, you arrive at his door with a bag of clothes and other necessities. When the bell rings, it takes about three seconds before the door swings open.

He greets you in the usual manner, except this time he speaks in a softer tone.

"Hey." He smiles upon seeing you, "Come in."

He steps aside when you walk in, before he takes the bag from your hand. You mutter a small 'thank you', and wait for him in the living room while he puts your things aside.

"You want something to drink?" He offered, but you shook your head.

"I'm fine."

You watch him come near you, before he bends down to his knees. You raise your brows when he tugs your hand towards him, and presses a kiss onto your palm.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" You asked.

"Your boundaries." He squeezed your hand gently, "What's your preferences, what you're not comfortable with,"

"Oh." You look down to your lap to hide your blush, "I don't have any preference yet, I think." You shrug, "I have to experience it to know what I like or dislike, but I think I'm fine with everything you do. Just… don't treat me rough, because I don't think I can handle it."

"Wouldn't dream of hurting you." He pecks on your cheek. "Come,"

You stand from your seat as he pulls you up, and your body follows him naturally as he drags you with him. As he closes the bedroom door behind, your heart leaps when he lifts you up with his arms to kiss you. Your legs wrap around his waist, while you keep your hands on his chest.

When he lays you down on the bed, you push his body away for a little as you mumble, "My, aren't you eager."

He observes your face before he chuckles, "You don't know how long I've waited for this."

You moan when he presses his kiss on your neck, and you feel his hand slip under your garment. Soon, the elastic band of your underwear is dragged down on your skin, and you instinctively close your thighs together.

"Let me taste you, (Name)."

He tugs your pants down until they reach your ankles, he takes his time to unhook them from your feet, before pushing your legs apart. You call his name as a protest, but any attempt to cover yourself from him is useless.

"Ky—" You stare at him wide-eyed as he lowers his head to your core, to the point that you can feel his breath against your labia. Your body tenses up when he gets the first taste of you, before he buries his tongue into your core.

"Tell me if I hurt you." He told you, and waited until you nodded to continue.

You gasp when he presses his tongue against your clit—not out of pleasure, but foreign feeling as the rough texture of his tongue latches on your nub. Your hand shoots up to grab his hair, while your legs clamp on his head. He grunts when you squirm away, and links his arms around your thighs to keep you still.

At first, you only feel a strange sensation every time his tongue swipes against your bundle of nerves, but soon it builds up into a familiar surge. Warmth begins to spread from your lower region, and you muffle a moan when he flicks his tongue on your sensitive clit.

"Ky—!" You hissed when it hit the right spot, "Keep going—"

Your hips bucks involuntarily as he sucks on the swelling bud, it sends an electricity through your body, before his lips detach from you. You whine at the loss of contact, but it doesn't take a second before his elastic muscle returns to its previous place.

The grip on his hair tightens as he picks up the pace, and soon the pleasure starts to coil inside your stomach. Your brows are knitted as you focus on his tongue, chasing after the high that's been hanging in front of you. It's not until you tilt your hips, that you finally reach it.

You cry out as your back arches, your eyes snap open as the wave of pleasure hits you. It was different, more satisfying than what you did on lonely nights. As you slowly come down, your body relaxes under his touch.

When he reaches up to kiss you, you chuckle as you taste yourself from his lips. "And you told me you're a virgin." You mused.

"I don't need to lose it to be good at oral."

You roll your eyes and hold him off by his chest, "Yeah right."

He seems taken aback when you push him to the side, before straddling him between your legs. Your hands work on his pants, as you loosen up the drawstring. "What are you doing?" He muttered out.

"Returning the favor." You replied with a smirk, while you tugged down his pants.

You've seen the outline of his member when he's still dressed, but now that you strip him off, you finally get the full view of it.

You sense his gaze on you as you stare at his cock. Your hand reaches out to touch the tip, and it twitches under your fingertips.

"Are you just gonna stare?"

"Patience." You shot him a teasing look, "I was just admiring."

He props himself up to watch you bend down, taking his length into your mouth. You look at him through your lashes, as you slowly drag your tongue along the shaft. Your fingers wrap around his base, and begin to give it a pump.

His breath becomes shallower with each stroke of your hand, while you wrap your lips around his cock. The tip feels hot on your tongue, as if it's filled with impatience. He groans as you sink your mouth deeper, "Keep going, baby."

You perk up at the nickname he used, but it needs to wait before you can bring it up to him, since your mouth is occupied at the moment.

He places a hand on your head, and runs his fingers through your hair before they settle on your crown. You grunt when he begins to rock his hips gently, while his hand gives you no room to pull back. He's careful enough not to push too deep, but he still overwhelms you.

"That's it—" He panted, brows knitted together as he focused on you. "Fuck—"

His heavy breath, his gentle grip on your hair send warmth through your body. It's not the first time you've done this, but it's the only time you felt desired. He's eager, but he's careful at the same time. He doesn't rush things, he fixates on the moment instead. When you place your hand on his thigh, he slows down as he loosens up his grip on you.

"You alright?"

You nod before you pull away from him.

"I want to ride you."

His brows are raised as you climb on top of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He takes a sharp breath when your core touches the base of his member, leaving a wet trail as you grind on him. You hear a quiet groan from his sighs, and it becomes heavier each time you pick up the pace.

You bite your lip as you feel your core throb at the sight beneath you. The way his head digs into the pillow, half-lidded eyes and panting, and the way his muscles tense as he chases after pleasure. His hands settle on your waists, keeping you from moving too far from the right spot. Your breath comes out as a huff when the friction starts to get to you. It almost feels real, as if he's really inside you.

"I'm close." He chokes out a moan, and you feel his fingers dig into your skin. "(Name)—"

Your lips curl into a grin when you hear the urgency in his voice. You lean down to kiss him, and he eagerly returns the favor. You grunt against his mouth, as you struggle to move with his arms wrapped tightly around you. But he doesn't seem to mind the erratic pace, since his hips move on its own.

His body shudders and he throws his head back as he groans, loud enough that you can feel his chest rumble through your palms. His member twitches against your core, spilling the white release onto both of your and his clothes. It takes a moment for him before he registers your lips on his neck, which he tilts his head and leans his cheek against yours.

"That was…"

"Good?" You grinned as you gave him a kiss.

"Great. Amazing. Ten out of ten." He chuckles, "Are you sure you're a virgin?"

You playfully pinch his cheek while you laugh, "Shut up."

He shoots you a coy smile, before he gently rolls you down with him on the bed.

"We should take a bath."

"Later." He muttered, wrapping one arm around you.

"Come on." You protested while tugging his hand off you, "We can cuddle after that."

"Fine," He lets you go, "Let's take a shower."

And he said it in a not-so-innocent voice.

The two of you end up prolonging the bath time, as he's taking you for a second round. If he's eager the first time, the second time must be worse. Since he's got the taste of it. You knew that he's exceptional, that he's a quick-learner, but you didn't expect it'd apply to sex as well.

The thing is, you never came with fingers alone. But when he cornered you in the shower, knuckles-deep in your core, he had you screaming as the sweet shock from the orgasm went through your body. He doesn't give you much of a break, as he bends you down until your ass touches his hip. You gasp in horror when you feel the tip of his dick against your drenched hole, he teasingly rubs himself on your labia, before it slips down to your clit.

He had your thighs pressed together, which made the friction even stiffer. You groan as he begins to thrust, hitting your throbbing bud everytime without mercy. He pins both of your wrists against the wall with one hand, while he keeps your body still with the other. It's almost unfair how strong he is to hold you down like this, and how cruel he is to tease you as he whispers dirty words into your ear. By the time you come, you have no energy left, even for standing.

He catches you right before your legs give up, holding you up while he sneaks a hand under the back of your thighs. You yelp when he props you up in his arms, carrying you out of the bathroom.

You land on the bed with a bounce, and receive no privilege to get up as he holds your legs together, before placing them against his shoulder. The color in your face is drained the moment his length rests on your thigh, fervent and heavy.

"I hope you're not tired yet," He grins, and you swear you see horns growing from his head the moment he says it, "Because I'm nowhere done with you."

—

Kyle Fucking Garrick.

You take back what you said about his middle name. It's not kind or thoughtful, it's fucking Prick.

It should've been obvious to you, after all the gossip you heard from your friends about him. Something that you thought as a baseless fact, a Lavater-physiognomy type of bullshit, but somehow they got it right. He's not as innocent as you defended him to be. He is freaky, and he's good at keeping it a secret.

After he exhausted you the night before, he decided that the best way to wake you up was with his mouth. Your clit was already swollen from yesterday's activity, and he abused it again in the morning. You stirred in your sleep, before your eyes snapped open at the sharp tug on your sensitive bud.

"G'mornin'." He greeted you the moment you woke up, still disoriented. "How's your sleep?"

You narrowed your eyes, as you tried to turn your vision focused. "Wha—" You slurred.

"Shh." He pushed you down to the bed, while his hand worked its way to your fold. "Let me take care of you, baby."

And thus you started your day with an orgasm.

Of course it's only the beginning, since it's him that you're talking about. He could make you faint in the bathroom if you didn't lock the door behind, and he could certainly numb your mind with his fingers if you didn't cut two apples for breakfast. But once you ran out of excuses, you're pretty much doomed.

While you knew he'd stop right away if you told him so, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Because once he puts his hand on you, you just melt. The irritation that you carry in mind dissolves the moment he wraps you in his arms, and every curse you hold on your tongue comes out as a whimper, as his mouth latches onto your nape.

It's a game of self-will, and he plays it underhandedly. You both know what you want, but no one speaks of it, no one takes the initiative. You grit your teeth as frustration begins to take over you. It's pretty clear he wants you to say it, with the excuse that it's yours to decide. But he lures you with sweet words, and waves your much-needed release in front of you. Close enough for you to see, but far away from your reach.

And finally, after three neglected orgasms, you swallow your ego and beg. "Please Ky—" You cried out, "Please, just fuck me—"

His hand ceases to move, as he pulls it out of your sopping core. You whine at the loss of contact, before he muffles it with his kiss.

The trip to his bedroom is quite messy, with a lot of thrown clothes and sloppy kisses. When you find yourself on his bed again, you crawl up to give him some space. He follows after you, and presses his lips against yours with impatience. Faintly, you hear the sound of a wrapper being ripped, before he pulls away to roll down the rubber on his length.

He comes back to your side, locking his lips with yours again, while he slots his hips between your legs. Your hands find the purchase on his back as you cling to him, digging your fingers into his skin the moment you feel his tip against your hole.

A gasp escapes your lips when he pushes himself in, stretching your pussy open with his dick.

"Shit, you're too tight." He hissed, as your walls tightened around his glans.

Your face contorts in pain, as he tries to squeeze himself deeper.

"No good." He mused, pulling himself out of you. You whimper as your hole clenches around nothing. "On your side, baby."

He gently rolls you to the side, sliding his arm below your head as he lays behind you. He places a hand under your cheek, and guides your lips back to his. You wince when you feel the nudge against your core, before it slowly sinks deeper into you.

It doesn't hurt much, compared to what you endured earlier. But it still stings, and you smack your palm against his hip when he begins to thrust. "Ky—" You moaned against his lips, gripping onto his skin as you felt yourself stuffed to the brim.

"Just a little more, baby." He places a kiss on your shoulder, while his hands find their way to wrap around your body. "Just a little more."

No words could form in your tongue, as your mouth snaps open at the steady thrust of his cock. It was slow, torturous, and left you wondering if you've underestimated his size.

But it soon comes to a stop, as his lower stomach touches the curve of your bottom. Your heart is beating against your chest, and you try to catch your breath while he showers you with kisses. The push of his hips comes to a halt, and you take it as a chance to rest. You lean your head back to his shoulder, giving him access to your neck, which he soon decorates with love marks.

"You alright?" He murmured, tenderly stroked your arm.

You hum as an answer. "You can move now."

"You sure?"

"Yes." You breathe out, "Please."

You sense a hesitation in his touch, before he presses a kiss on your temple.

"Tell me if it hurts."

You nod, giving his forearm a squeeze as a reassurance.

He shifts your body closer to him, readjusting the position to make it more comfortable. You raise your head a bit while he moves, before he guides you back to his arm. A grunt escapes your lips the moment he drags his member out, before he thrusts it back in. Your core flutters around him, as the numbness slowly fades into pleasure.

Perhaps your body is still sensitive from all the teasing he did, but you can't deny that he's good. Every stroke of his cock just hits right, as it grazes you in the place where his fingers couldn't reach. You grip his arm when you feel his pace quickens, filling the room with the wet slaps of the skins. And when his tip nudges the tender part of you, your body reacts in a way you don't expect.

He seems to notice it, as he lifts his head up to see your face. "Does that feel good?" He whispered in your ear, and you yelped when he snapped his hips against yours.

"Oh God—" You scrabble at his body, trying to find something to grab on. "Do that again."

"Gladly."

A warning comes up to your throat, before it dies down as soon as he moves. You squirm against his strong grip, digging your nails into his thigh like a claw machine. When his cock grazes the right spot within you, you cry out a strangled moan. And the second time he does it, the suspicions you had in mind are all erased. He's no longer teasing you, because now he really intends to make you scream.

When he rolls on top of you, you feel your legs being spread apart with his knees. Stretching your pussy open for him to go deeper. With him on top of you, and your stomach flat on the bed, you have no room to crawl away.

His hand snakes around your shoulder, propping you up into a half-arched position. A whimper comes out of your mouth the moment he slams himself into you, while his lips are busy with your neck. Niping and sucking on your reddening skin. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head, gripping the curls of his hair as you moan.

"I'm close." You hissed, "Kyle—"

"I know, baby." He presses a kiss on your nape, "I know."

He raises your hips slightly, before slipping his hand between your thighs. Your body jerks when he touches your clit, rubbing it in a circle motion. The fact that it's already swollen doesn't help you either.

"Ky!" You claw his hand in panic, "I can't—I can't—"

"You can." He grunted against your ear, "Let it go, baby."

Your grip on his wrist tightens, as every muscle in your body tenses up. You could barely hold it when he fucked you slow, and now with his finger on your clit, you just break.

A loud cry fills the room as you come. Hard. Your eyes roll up, hands gripping tightly on the sheet until your fists turn pale. And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe, until you gasped for air. Which comes in the form of short and trembling puffs. The moment of bliss and numbness only descends for short seconds, before you realize he's still inside you.

The burning sensation in your core comes back to you, although weaker than before. You whimper against the sheet, as he prolongs the high you just reached. His fingers no longer slotted between your folds, as they move to grip your waist. In daze, you begin to wonder when it'll end. Until you feel a shudder from the body on top of you, and a strangled moan falls from his mouth.

He rests his head on you, catching a breath, before he slowly rolls down to the side. You watch him as he wearily pulls off the condom, and throws it aside.

The two of you lay down still, mustering the energy that's left after the laborious session. Although you doubt if it's the same case for him, since he has no trouble getting up to fetch the tissue box.

As he wipes himself off, you mutter out with a low voice, "You've ruined me for other men."

He turns his head to you, before a grin spreads on his face. "Already thought about leaving?"

You know from his tone that he's not serious, but neither of you can carry the usual banter. At least not now.

"You know what I mean." You mused.

His face softens, as he bends down to kiss you. "I know."

You smile against his lips, and carefully shift your body until you lay on your back. He climbs on top of you, planting each arm on your side as he latches his lips on yours. You reach up to cup his face, pulling him closer as you part your lips, giving his tongue the access to dive into your mouth deeper. The two of you relish in each other's taste, before you feel something on your thigh.

"You're hard." You let slip what you saw, and he flushed.

"Sorry." He rubbed his neck, "You just… turn me on."

You observe his face for a moment, noting how he avoids your eyes whenever he's shy. His expression, and his candid confession set something in you, as you feel the warmth in your lower belly.

"I think we can go one more time."

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little." You replied, "But it's nothing I can't handle."

His eyes search into yours for a second, before he gives in.

"Alright." He uttered, "Let me grab the condom."

—

Now that you've gotten the taste of it, you can understand why sex is often called forbidden apple. Because once you put your teeth to it, you can't go back to what you're used to. No more friendly cuddles, and no more innocent kisses that won't lead to something.

While it's easy to get swept up in the new pastime, you can't help but worry. As a lot of 'what if's fill your thoughts. You never doubt him, no. But you'll never know what the future's like. For you and him.

One day, when the two of you lounge on the couch—with your head on his chest, as it rises and falls in a slowing rhythm, you divulge a question that's been eating you up.

"What if it doesn't work?" You brood, "What if he still wants to marry me despite of everything?"

You watch the subtle change in his face as he meets your gaze. "Do you want me to come along?"

"No," You muse, "It'll make things worse."

He hums, "Have you talked to your parents?"

"... No." You looked away, as you chewed on your lip. "No, I haven't."

"I think you should." He gives your arm a squeeze, "Talk to them, maybe they'll help you."

"They didn't help me at all." You said bitterly.

"You wouldn't know that, (Name)." He let out a quiet sigh, "Parents don't usually tell what they've done for their children. And that could be the case with yours."

"They didn't stop the engagement."

"Maybe they couldn't." He replied, "Hey, look at me." He gently pulls you to face him, "I know it's hard for you, and I can't imagine how you feel about it. But your parents love you, you said it yourself." He reassured you, "Maybe they didn't stop it because they're powerless, but they knew that you'd find a way out. After all, they're the one who told you about the ceremony, right?"

While you're still frowning at him, you begin to soften up in his hold. "... Yeah, they did." You muttered.

"They knew that you're against it and you'd deliberately failed one of the tests, so they just told you what to do and what you shouldn't. It's their way to tell you which one to break, and which one you should keep in mind." He sighs, "And I hate to say it, but I'd do the same if it's the only choice I have."

Though his words have put you at ease, you can't help but sense a new doubt entering your mind. "Will they… will they be okay if I fail the test? Won't it give them a bad name?"

"I think it's the risk they're willing to take." He smiled softly, "Talk to them, (Name). You need it."

You follow his advice two days later.

You've been mulling over the talk for days, going through all of the possibilities over and over again in your mind. You've prepared for a whole speech, but it all disappears once you hear their voices. Just like that, all of your thought falls from your mouth, as they flow out like a stream.

There's a lot of talking, a lot of 'sorry's, and maybe a few of tears. But in the end, you feel better.

As the conversation slips into a mundane, but comfortable chat, you slip his name between your life update. Though you have your doubts about it, it's worth telling in spite of all.

"You should introduce him to us." Your mother chirped, "Bring him with you the next holiday, I want to meet the lucky fellow."

You chuckle as you tell her alright, but no promise.

Four days later, on the evening at the airport, you reach up to kiss him before you say the words. You almost laugh at how easy it was, to say such words with such ease. And he'd laugh with you, if he wasn't struck by it.

"I thought you're afraid to use that word."

"Not anymore." You said with a smile, "Not with you."

He seems confounded for a moment, before he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear.

"I hope you won't regret it, because I'll say that to you everyday from now on."

"Well, why don't you start now?"

You both chuckle, before he wraps his hands around you and pulls you into another kiss.

"I love you, (Name).

"Come home to me soon."

[dracowars]

I know u hv a lot to do but could u do a draco x yn potter but lily n james r still alive??

part of the family | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x potter!reader

word count: 1,1k

summary: where draco meets y/n parents, james and lily, for the first time

a/n: my first os since forever!! this came in when my draco requests were still open and i loved the idea, i'm a sucker for draco x potter!reader. i'm truly sorry for taking ages, i hope you enjoy either way <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

If anyone had told Draco in first year that he would be sitting at a dinner table with no other than Harry Potter himself, he would have laughed at them and asked what potion they took. But that was before he met you. Because Draco does still laugh now, but for a completely different reason: he is happy to be sitting here, next to you, in the home of the Potter family.

Your father is just telling one of his iconic stories from his time at Hogwarts, about how he and his best friends once roamed the huge halls of the castle, and the overall atmosphere in the room is so far away from what Draco usually associates with family dinners.

No tension, no awkward silence, no fear of saying or doing the wrong thing at any given moment. An hour ago, Draco would have believed that it couldn't be any other way. The second he crossed the threshold into your family's house, however, he was convinced of the opposite.

James and Lily are the kindest people Draco has ever met. They welcomed him with open arms straight away, even though they didn't even know him - expect from what is general knowledge in the wizarding world about him and specifically his family of course. And maybe from the stories Harry told them, when Draco and Harry were still very far from ever sitting anywhere near each other. But over time, many things have changed and you played a big role in improving their difficult relationship.

At first, you couldn't believe that the boy who usually treated your brother like shit had suddenly turned into a completely different person in your presence. But he did and it didn't take long until stronger feelings developed. Harry certainly couldn't believe it but here you are, eating your mum's homemade food, chatting and laughing away.

"Tell me, Draco. Have you mastered the Patronus Charm yet? Y/N told us that you tried it in Defence against the Dark Arts recently. Should have happened way earlier in my opinion, but oh well", James asks your boyfriend, a smile on his lips and genuine interest evident on his face. Draco's parents wouldn't even think of asking something like that.

"Not quite. I mean I managed it, but unfortunately it hasn't taken on a shape yet", Draco replies kindly, but doesn't maintain eye contact with James as he's too uncomfortable. You know that such an answer would probably be punished by his parents if he ever were to say it aloud in front of them, which is why you reach for his hand under the table. On his thigh, you intertwine his fingers with yours, the silver sigil ring cold against your skin. Looking at him from the side, you squeeze his hand and softly smile.

"Oh, don't worry about it, sweetheart! You'll get to it", your mother cheers him up, smiling between the two of you and you just know she saw your intertwined hands and loving gaze. You also know that Draco did not expect such a kind reaction and even though he visibly relaxes, he doesn't know what to answer.

The topic of the conversation changes and your dad can't help himself but to ask Draco all about his Quidditch tactics. Obviously, he can't tell him a lot about it since Harry is sitting right next to him, but seeing the three most important men in your life talk so passionately about something they love makes your heart jump. They keep on chatting over dinner and when it's time to clear the table, they don't even notice your mother and you collecting all the plates, too focused on their conversation.

You smile to yourself, following your mum into the kitchen where you put the dirty dishes into the sink and let the water run over them. Immediately, you notice her staring at you with a soft smile on her lips.

"What?", you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"Nothing. It's just..", she says, stopping herself as if to think how to best phrase her next words. "You two remind me a lot of your dad and I when we were younger."

"Really?"

"Yes. The banter, the loving gazes, the not keeping your hands off each other", she giggles, drying the dishes you hand her with a towel. "From what I have seen so far, I feel like you're truly meant for each other. It seems like you compensate the weakness of the other."

"Mum, stop it", you chuckle, feeling the blush creep onto your cheeks but you know that she is right. She always is. And you truly feel like you can be yourself when Draco is around so you are glad that she genuinely accepts him.

"Don't tell your brother or your dad that I said that though", she then laughs, both of you knowing that the Potter men can be really protective. The moment Draco enters the kitchen, you stifle your laughter.

"Can I help you with something, Mrs. Potter?", he asks your mum politely and the knowing smile on your mother's face is so obvious you want to sink into the ground.

"Draco, how often do I need to tell you that you can call me Lily-"

"We're almost done, but thank you so much for offering. We'll be right back", you answer and Draco nods, leaving again.

"He is so sweet! What a gentleman!", your mum almost squeaks but lowers her voice so he can't hear her anymore. All you can hear as an immediate response to your mother's comment is a snort, coming from Harry who just entered the kitchen with two glasses, putting them into the sink.

"You're just jealous because you don't have a girlfriend", you mock him while your mum tries to hide her giggle.

"You had all the guys of Hogwarts at your disposal and you seriously went for Draco Malfoy", is all Harry says before leaving again, but deep down you know that if they truly hated each other the way they always pretend they do, they would not be sitting at a table together and they would definitely not be talking about Quidditch.

"He'll come around, don't worry", your mum tells you, stroking over your shoulder as she finishes drying off the last glass. Once all the dishes are back where they belong, you go back to the dining room, happy to see that they are still chatting away.

When Draco meets your gaze, he reaches for your hand and helps you sit down on your seat again. From the corner of your eye you see your parents looking at each other, understanding the other without a word and you can't stop thinking about what your mum just told you about their own young love back then.

"I hope we will do this more often from now on", your dad says, smiling. "And I do not accept a no because you, Draco, are part of the family now."

[kisses4tom]

Sooo, since we got Uncle Billy do we now get GirlDad!Tom ?? I’ve looked high and low for a Tom X Reader family story😂😭 your writing is amazing <3

ᡣ𐭩 DADDY TOM

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YAYY FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS!! 😭 I've been dying to write something like this since I have already made an uncle tommy hc! and thank you so much ml 💕

I think we can ALL collectively agree that Tom would be the BEST girl dad, right? 🌚 so the baby will be a little girl!

also I'm gonna make this a teen pregnancy (18), so from the very start up til now!

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when he finds out he would probably freeze for a moment before finally reacting (gotta soak it in yk)

he would be happy but shocked and confused at the same time

scared not to be present enough because of tour and the band

he would always kiss and touch your stomach

he'd cry when hearing the baby's heartbeat to the doctor 🥹🫶🏻

"I want the baby to be healthy, but if I had to guess I think it's a boy" (he 100% wants a girl)

idk I feel like he would call the baby "kleine Prinzessin" (little princess) or "kleiner Soldat" (little soldier) !!

when you go into labor he tries to keep his cool but deep down he's in full panic mode

the first time he met/held her it was like love at first sight for him even if he didn't quite know how to act since he never really had any past experiences with babies

he's very careful and gentle with her

always holding her

he would attack her with tickles to hear her little laugh

kiss attacks also

playing with her all the time

he wouldn't essentially spoil her (that's uncle Billy's job 😉) but he definitely gets her most things because he can't say no to that little face!

likes holding and showing her around: "look who's that in the mirror? it's you!"

definitely hiding her from the media

yet he LOVES talking about her in interviews!

though very very VERY rarely he would bring her out on stage and hold her like mf simba when she was about 1/2

his heart is always full whenever she's around

he would kneel down to talk to her‼️😩

always pushing her stroller or carrying her on his shoulders

don't ask me why but he'd get into play fights with her at the dinner table 😭 (especially when she's still learning to talk so she's speaking gibberish 😭)

he loves to take her baths and put fun toys in the tub

finds her extremely adorable in everything she wears

he'd give her his yellow dog plushie‼️😭 currently sobbing

I feel like he would try his best to let the baby's first word be "papa" 😭

when she's older he would start being more himself (so talk about things freely and make dirty jokes all the time)

he's not a regular dad, he's a cool dad! 😏 (please get the reference 😭)

he'd give her the talk 🫢🐝

he would pick her up in weird ways and make her laugh (like upside down etc lmfao 💀)

would let her do his hair but not his make-up

like I said in my uncle Tommy hc, i feel like he would love to play with the toy kitchen for some reason idk 💀

he's the overprotective girl dad FOR SURE (AND ITS THE HOTTEST AND CUTEST THING IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE)

he'd go down the slide with her 😭

at lunch/dinner he would always sit next to her

looooves when she's at their concerts and would ask Bill to dedicate her a song (especially her favorite)

he'd definitely write her a song too

he would make her try to eat a lemon 😭🍋

it's important to him that she has a good bond with her uncle Bill and the boys too! (uncle Georg and uncle Gustav 🥹)

"Y/n she looks more like me than you, gotta be honest"

he would give her what he didn't have growing up (if you read Bill's book, like I have, you'll know)

he wouldn't let anybody hurt or say anything wrong about her

hype man fr

high-key a very chill and permissive dad

he would make sure she knows her worth and to always be herself, without listening to what others say

always saying that she's the better copy of him

since he had her young, people (maybe even teachers at parent teacher conferences) mistake him for her brother and it's needless to say that he's very flattered while his daughter is just like 😐

they have a great bond

LITTLE FUN FACT‼️ Tom said in his podcast that if he ever has a daughter then his dream is to name her Nala like in the lion king movie 🤭😭 crying rivers rn part 2

your daughter tags along on tours, especially because it's very important for Tom and she loves it (idk if I already said this but oh well lmfaoo)

I have a feeling almost all her friends have a crush on Tom (i know i would 😋)

Tom is such a basic dad istg, he does bbq every sunday

if y'all ever become parents a second time then he would definitely have a happier reaction than the first one, yet he would be scared to take care of two little creatures~

his fans always ask about her during meet and greets and give her little presents, which he appreciates a lot

your daughter is pretty much popular in the entire fanbase you guys have and is considered a "lucky charm" from the band

Tom would give her the longest and most comforting hugs known to mankind

he'd make her a memory book with Bill 😭

and he'd give her some old goodies of his!

like some of his old clothes, hats, glasses etc..

overall he's the best dad and UGHHFHSJENF I cry just thinking about him not having any biological children :(

i hope you enjoyed this !! 💕 (also i apologize for any spelling mistakes but your girl over here is too lazy to re-read 🤪 love y'aaaallll)

[mangowillow]

last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude. 

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal. 

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up. 

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again. 

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted. 

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long. 

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like. 

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.” 

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes. 

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him. 

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style. 

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him. 

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one. 

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing. 

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling. 

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time. 

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct. 

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends. 

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear. 

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them. 

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground. 

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him. 

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding. 

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks. 

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself. 

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak. 

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair. 

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room. 

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster. 

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him. 

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it. 

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you. 

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you. 

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

[awriterinthenight]

10 Thing I Hate About You, Part 2-Luke Castellan

words: 2178

warnings: Swearing, sword fighting, mention of murder. Some small notes btw, I've stuck to the movie a bit so far to help set up the story, after this I'll probably start branching off. Also I love putting in some of my favorite scenes and lines, its like my favorite part of writing this

summary: Chris now needs a plan to ask out Bianca. So, him, Connor, and Travis need someone to take out reader, but they need someone to pay for it. So, who better than Joey to pay Luke to do so.

"Hello Y/N, make anyone cry today?" Dionysus asked, in an unamused tone. Her and Mr. D had always had a small relationship, due to the fact she'd been there for so long, and if Mr. D ever wanted to hate on campers, she was the perfect counselor to do it with.

"Sadly no, but it's only 4:30," she said, walking towards her table where she sat by herself. Since she and her sister were in different cabins they didn't sit with each other, and never really snuck over to the other's table, unless they had something important to share.

When dinner ended she walked with Bianca towards the campfire with Bianca's cabin. "So, why were you walking with Joey," Y/N asked, protective of her little sister.

"We were just walking. It's not I'm him," she said, used to her sister's protectiveness by now.

Y/N scoffed, "Yeah, cause I would never let you," she told her sister.

"Why can't I date anyone, it's just a boy?" Bianca asked, since recently she'd been getting annoyed by the fact that she apparently wasn't allowed to date anyone.

"Because, have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to this camp," the older girl said.

Bianca sighed, "Can't I just go on one date, it can't hurt," she pleaded with her sister, desperate to have at least one normal part of her life.

Y/N rolled her eyes, sighing, "Fine, you can date," she started, getting her sister's hopes up, "When I do," she finished, crushing Bianca's spirit.

"But, no one dates you," her sister complained.

"Great, then you won't date either, problem solved," she said, walking away now, since she never went to the campfires, because she thought they were boring.

"You suck," Bianca mumbled, so her sister wouldn't hear.

Unfortunately she did, and mocked her, "You suck."

***

Chris was out by one of the picnic tables waiting for Bianca to show up. He'd spent the past couple of days learning as much Latin as possible. When Bianca finally showed up, she seemed in a hurry to leave.

"Can we make this quick, Stephanie and Joe are having a hideous break up in the pavilion, again" she told him.

He stumbled over his words, trying to do his best to ask her out, "Well I was thinking we could start with all pronunciations," he said, rather nervous to be near her.

She groaned, "Not all the boring stuff please," she complained, rather hating Latin.

"W-well there is an alternative," Chris said, mustering up all the courage he had.

Bianca lit up, excited that maybe there was an alternative, "There is?"

Chris took in a breath, nodding his head, "Yeah, we can do something not boring, like maybe getting food together sometime," he finally asked, anxious for her answer.

"Are you asking me out?" Bianca asked, a bit shocked, "That's so cute, what's your name again?"

"Uh, Chris. Look I know your sister doesn't let you date, but I was thinking if it was for Latin tutoring, then maybe-" he said, getting cut off by Bianca.

"Oh wait a minute, Curtis," she said, getting his name wrong.

"Chris," he said, correcting her.

She continued, ignoring his correction, "My sister just came up with a new rule. I can date when she does," she told him, trying to figure out a work around of her sister's absurd rule.

"Really, then I heard there's this great spot by the-" he tried telling her, getting cut off again.

"The problem is that my sister is a particularly cruel person, no one would want to date her," Bianca said, presenting him the main issue, slightly insulting her sister.

Chris started to lose hope, but tried to think of a solution, "Well, there has to be someone willing to date a difficult person like her," trying desperately to think of a solution, "People do such extreme stuff all the time, it'll be like extreme dating."

Bianca smiled brightly, "You'd find someone like that for me?" she asked, touched by how much he was willing to do for her.

"Hell yeah, of course I would," he exclaimed, joyful that maybe he could actually go one a date with her.

***

Chris met up with Travis the next day in hopes of finding someone willing to date Bianca's sister.

"I have put together the perfect group of eligible bachelors," Travis said, leading Chris to a hidden part of the camp. When Chris arrived he saw a group of...odd people, but maybe this could work.

"Hi, are any of you interested in dating Y/N Stratford."

The first guy just laughed in their faces.

The second one sat in silence, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I've never been that ripped," the guy who was probably high, said.

"Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?" the next guy asked, as they decided he was a lost cause.

The last guy was the worst. Screaming bloody murder as if they murdered his family in front of him.

***

"Didn't I tell you, it was pointless. No one will date her," Connor said, as Chris and Travis filled him in on everything that happened.

Chris looked up at some random guy across the art and crafts room and asked, "Hey, what about him?" as they guy took a pair of scissors and carved something into the table.

Travis and Connor turned around, then immediately back at Chris, "No no no, not him. I heard he almost lit a satyr on fire once. He just did a year away from camp," Travis warned him.

Chris smirked, "Well at least he's horny," he joked.

Connor just shook his head, "We're serious man, he's whacked."

"I heard he sold liver on the black market for a new set of speakers," Travis said, spreading a rumor that was probably false.

Chris looked back over as he lit a cigarette, and his friend put it out. "He's our guy," Chris assured the Stolls. He continued to look until the guy looked back, scaring the three of them. "Who is he anyway?" Chris asked, curious about the guy he was about to set up with his future girlfriend's sister.

Travis sighed, "That's Luke Castellan, Hermes counselor. Technically our brother," Travis informed.

"Bit of an asshole sometimes, but he has his good days," Connor added, "But mostly people ignore him."

***

Chris and Connor entered the arena where Luke was training, in hopes of getting him to go out with Y/N. "Hi, so I was wondering if you-" Chris started, getting cut off by Luke pointing his sword at Chris' throat, "Never mind," he said, no walking out as fast as possible.

***

"So, how do we get him to date Y/N," Travis asked, after hearing Chris and Connor's story of their interaction with Luke.

Chris was deep in thought, "Well, maybe we could pay him, but we don't have any money," he suggested.

"Well then what we need is a backer," Travis suggested, getting confused looks, "You know, someone with money who's stupid."

***

Travis, who drew the short end of the straw, went and sat at Joey's table, "Is that a peach, you don't see many around here," he said, reaching for it, but getting his hand slapped.

"You lost?" Joey questioned, annoyed by Travis sitting at the Ares table.

"Well no, I just came to run something by you," Travis said, as Joey took his face and started to draw on it. "I had an idea I thought I would run by you."

"Does this conversation have a purpose?"

Travis cleared his throat, "Well yes, you want to date Bianca Stratford right.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"You know how her sister is whacked, right. Well she made a new rule that Bianca can date when she does. Now you need someone to date her, since she's an extreme headcase. So, you could pay someone like him to do it," Travis explained, pointing to Luke over at the Hermes table.

"What's in it for you," Joey asked, suspicious of why he would help him.

Travis cleared his throat again, "If I'm walking in the halls and I say hello, you say it back," Travis proposed.

"Yeah, yeah, you're cool by adjacence," Joey said, "Well, I'll think about it." Travis sat there a minute longer than he should have, "That means scram," Joey told him harshly.

The next moment Travis got up and went back to his brother and friend, "He's on board," he informed them of their victory.

"That's great," Chris exclaimed, as Connor patted Travis' shoulder and walked away, both of them trying not to laugh.

"I have a dick on my face, don't I," Travis exclaimed, watching his friend and brother walk away chuckling.

***

Joey approached Luke, who was sitting on a bench with some friends, "Hey, nice cigarette, huh," he said, as Luke lit another cigarette.

"What," Luke said, confused.

"You see that girl over there," Joey said, as Luke nodded, "That's Y/N Stratford, I want you to take her out."

"Sure, Sparky," Luke said, blowing out smoke.

"Look she's a bit whacked. She has this rule that her sister can't date till she does, and I want to take her sister out so-" he told Luke before getting cut off.

"Good story, not my problem."

"Would you make it your problem if I offered compensation?" Joey asked, trying to bribe him.

Luke seemed to be in thought for a moment, "How much?" he asked.

"20 bucks," he said, looking over at her where she just knocked a camper over while sword fighting them, "Fine, 30."

Luke got up and started to walk around Joey, "If I take her out that'll cost me about 40 bucks, and she'll probably want dinner. Now that's around 55 bucks, then to cover other costs that'll be about 75," Luke said, stating his final price.

"This isn't a negotiation, take it or leave it," Joey said, starting to get annoyed.

"50 and we have a deal," Luke offered. Joey then handed him the cash in agreement, as Luke went to go talk to Y/N.

***

1st person, Y/N Stratford

I was walking back from where I was training, to head to my bag and grab water. Unluckily for me, I was intercepted on my way there, "Hey there princess, how are you?" he asked, sounding strangely upbeat.

"Sweating like a pig, and you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

He smiled, "Now that's the way to get a guy's attention," he said sarcastically.

"My mission in life," I said, my voice full of annoyance and sarcasm. I started to walk away from him, but he followed.

"I'll pick you up on Friday then," he said, walking by my side.

I just scoffed, shaking my head, "Yeah, Friday uh-huh," I said, annoyed he wouldn't take a hint and leave.

"I can show you places you've never seen before," he continued, trying to get me to agree.

"Where, like Zeus' fist," I said, trying to walk away, "Do you even know my name, screw boy?"

"I know a lot more than you think," he said, rather cryptically. At that point I just walked away, leaving him there to ponder.

Over in a corner by the arena Chris, Connor, and Travis were watching the whole scene, "We're screwed," Chris stated bluntly.

"I don't want to hear that defeatist attitude," Connor said, trying to not give up hope,

"We're screwed," Chris said again, but more cheerfully and upbeat this time.

"That's the spirit," Travis exclaimed.

***

"Nice music taste," I heard someone say, as I was leaving the Hermes cabin. Usually some of them are able to smuggle in good cds, so I would buy some occasionally.

"What are you stalking me now," I accused, annoyed at him.

He scoffed, "This is my cabin, and I saw you leaving. Thought I'd said hi at least," he defended.

"Hi," I deadpanned, walking out of the cabin.

He followed me out of the cabin asking, "Not a big talker, huh?"

"Not with you," I stated bluntly.

"You're not afraid of me are you?"

"Afraid of you, why would I be afraid of you?"

"Well, most people are."

"Well I'm not."

"Maybe you're not afraid of me, but I'm sure you've thought about me naked."

"Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby oh baby," I mocked sarcastically. At that he finally walked away seeming to give up. Just when I thought I was in the clear for being left alone, Joey had to walk past, shoulder checking me.

I wasn't gonna let that slide, so I stuck out my foot tripping him. Startled, he fell flat on his face, so hard I could hear his nose crack.

"Oh, you bitch," he exclaimed, standing back up.

"Whoops."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Luke standing there, looking proud, which made me slightly smile, but I did my best to hide it. He still noticed though.

[cruisebuckley]

“Talk about love.” — JJ Maybank X Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: JJ is in love and he doesn't know how to confess, he has never been good with words, he keeps it a secret until he can't hold it back any more on a party — the problem is (Y/N) doesn't seem to be on the same page.

MUSIC: “Talk about love” by Zara Larsson

A/N: feedback it always welcome!! this is the first OBX fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it lmao) and it was inspired by TAL a song by Zara Larsson, the first version of this story was sadder and I didn't inted to make a second part at the time, today tho I sat down to rewrite and repost it and decided this jj and y/n deserved more of a happy ending so there'll be a second part inspired by another poster girl song!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language. Cursing.

WORD COUNT: 2.180

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD] [PART 2]

JJ drinks the last of his drink, eyes flickering to where she was dancing with her friends, a wide smile on her face while she moves her hips in the beat of the song. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off her all night long. She was gorgeous, always was, but she was even prettier today. Maybe it was because of how happy she looked, singing with all she had, smiling with her friends.

“JJ, I’m gonna get more beer, do you want some?” Kiara asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he nods, thinking it would be good to use the drinking games with John B as a distraction from (Y/N). He doesn't know what's motivating him to keep his distance for so long, he had come to the party with the intention of talking to her, but now he just couldn't, something was holding him back.

“Dude, you should do something,” John B. says.

“Yeah, you’ve been staring at her the whole night.” Pope rolls his eyes, “you’re never like this, why don’t you just talk to her?”

JJ snorts, but inside he feels more insecure, why was he so nervous? 

“I’ll talk to her, it’s just…” JJ clears his throat, trying to think of an excuse.

“Just?” Pope raises his eyebrows.

“She’s with her friends, you know, having fun and all” JJ shrugs. 

“Please,” Pope and John B. exchange looks before Pope continues, “this was never a problem for you before, JJ. Tell us, did something happen?”

“No.” JJ sighs,“I just want to talk with her about something, and… it’s bothering me, that’s all.” Kiara gets back and hands everyone their beers, she gives him a questioning look before sitting down again.

“Talk with whom? (Y/N)?” she asks then, and JJ nods, “so, what is it?”

“Nothing important.” everyone scoffs, “what?”

“If it is bothering you, it is important, idiot.” Kiara rolls her eyes. 

“Look, if you don’t want to tell us, that's okay, but for fucking sake, go talk with (Y/N).” John B. says, and Pope and Kiara agree with a nod of head.

“Okay, I’m going.” JJ says with a roll of his eyes, he takes one sip of his beer before setting it down on the table in front of him and finally gets up to talk with her.

His friends all make cheering noises, and he only gives them his middle finger and keeps on walking.

As he gets closer to the dance floor, though, he can feel his resolving weakening again, he can feel the bubbles of anxiety accumulating in his throat. He stops just at the end of the dance floor, a few steps of distance between them. It takes about five minutes for (Y/N) to notice him, she spins and stops when she registers it is him. Her smile grows bigger and even then, JJ can't avoid it but smile too.

She frowns, however, as she approaches him and swiftly places her arms on his shoulders, “Why are you standing there?”

“I was only watching you.” He shrugs.

“You're never one to just watch,” she says playfully.

JJ laughs, still timid but starting to enjoy being this close to her. 

“Is there something wrong?” She asks, usually she would already have greeted him with a kiss, but she is cautious now, and JJ knows she can read in his face that there is something he wants to say. 

“Nothing.” he smirks, “you're just too pretty tonight.” 

(Y/N) laughs, he can, she is going to let this one pass, and he is relieved. They slow dance for some minutes, totally ignoring the upbeat song playing, but soon enough as they drink more, they fall into the agitated rhythm of the others also on the dance floor.

JJ tries his best to forget what he wanted to say, tries to bury it and keep it quiet, he doesn't want to ruin any of this, doesn't want to risk it all. 

But (Y/N) feels it, the change in the air again, walks him to an empty spot close to the wall and stays holding his hand when she gives him a quick, but reassuring kiss on his lips.

“Did something happen?”

When he doesn't answer, she continues, “you know you can tell me.”

JJ can't look at her when he says it, it is pathetic, he knows, but he just can't.

He misunderstands, “J, you've been acting weird since you got here, haven't talked with me and not even looked at me properly, what's happening?”

At those words, JJ snaps his head back, “(Y/N)? You're  serious?” She nods,“I've been staring at you the whole night, I can't take my eyes off you.” He says then, refusing to be ashamed.

“So why don't you say anything? Why… Why are you different?” She walks closer and gives his hand a squeeze.

“I love you.” He blurts out. Never one to find the proper words or the right time.

(Y/N) takes a step back, but doesn't let go of his hand, “what?”

JJ clears his throat, there is no pointing in denying. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“Things are good, JJ.” she looks at him worriedly.

“I know, but-”

“We agreed on it, right? That it would be simple between us, no love, no dating, nothing of this girlfriend and boyfriend thing,” (Y/N) raises her eyebrows “we were fine with that, weren’t we?”

JJ feels the bubbles of anxiety starting to gather on his chest and throat again, “We… I was fine with it, I swear I was. But things changed, I don't know exactly when, I don't know how, but-” his voice cracks, betraying him, showing how much her reaction was affecting him.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath, calming herself, and JJ watches as her eyes wander his face, he wishes he could read her mind. “What changed?”

“I don't know. Maybe I did.”

She doesn't answer.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“JJ, I don't want to talk about love.” She replies, a whisper. “But it's not you, it's not you.”

He sighs, it's not conscious, but he distances himself, trying to hide somehow. There's no place for him to go, not when they are in the middle of a party, not when he just confessed his feelings while they are surrounded by people. JJ is trying to think of something to say, how to answer this, how to take it well.

But she searches him again, a step closer, a hand on his cheek, making him look at her again. 

“JJ, what makes you think you’re in love with me?” 

He knows where she wants to go with this, he knows, but he also knows what he truly feels, and it's not him rushing things or being confused. 

“Luke's party,” he says and her face changes, “it was the first time I ever felt… jealous.”

“Jealousy?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Let me explain,” he says, and she nods. “I was feeling… different for some days already, but it was the party that made me stop and ask myself what those feelings were.” He stops to breathe, he is happy that her hand is still cupping his cheek, or else he might stop talking with the look she had, “I was fine with it,  (Y/N), but it changed. These last few days, all I can think about is you. And I know I suck with words, but I am trying my best here.”

“You don't even know me.” He can tell it was not meant to sound harsh with the way she grimaces right after, but it hurts anyway, “I just… what I mean is, we don't even spend time together outside of this,” she gestures between the both of them with her chin, “what we have is different JJ, I know nothing about your friends, you know nothing of mine, we know nothing of each other.”

“What if I want to?”

She sighs, and he can see tears pooling in her eyes, it takes him by surprise.

“I told you I didn't want…” she trails off, shaking her head and retrieving her hand from his face.

Around them, a slow song started, the couples stared at each other with wide smiles and started to dance together. Fucking great timing.

JJ is frozen on his spot, he is trying his hardest to think of what to say, but she seems to always be quicker.

“I'm sorry, JJ, I really am. But I can't.”

“Why not?” He doesn't want to sound childish or insistent, but it just leaves his mouth.

(Y/N) closes her eyes with a deep breath, he wants to get closer again, hug her to try to calm her.

“We are good at this friends with benefits thing.”

“Why can't we be more?” He gulps, “I am confessing (Y/N), I am in love with you.”

“I know!” She gives an exasperated sigh, opening her eyes, the tears are still there, “I just don't know if I want more.”

He nods, “you are right, I am sorry. I shouldn't… I am sorry I insisted.”

“No, I…” (Y/N) frowns, “I-”

“No, you're right, you don't have to correspond with my feelings.”

“I'm just not ready, please don't be mad at me.” She knits her eyebrows together and for the first time seems to let her guard down.

“It's okay,” he says, trying his best to give her a reassuring smile, “really, (Y/N), it's okay.”

It feels awkward to stand there, he's not sure if he should try to comfort her some other way, if he should just leave. But he has so much to say yet, and she is looking at him like she also has. So he waits, he wants her to be the first.

“What if…” she breathes, “what if this is not love?”

“Why'd you say that?”

“Well,” she clears her throat, “it can be something else. We're young. And,” a dry chuckle leaves her lips, “there is so much, so many people to know, what if tomorrow you meet someone that makes you regret this?… I just want you to understand me.”

“I can wait,” he says then, surprising even himself.

“What?”

“You said you're not ready, I can wait.”

“I can't make you do that.”

“You're not making me,” he finally walks closer, finally takes her hand in his, “I want this.”

“What if it's not what you want?” She raises her chin, “and one day you wake up just to be bored? What if it doesn't excite you?”

JJ knits his eyebrows, “I really like what we have, I love it, and it is not… I don't want an exciting thing, not all the time at least.”

“And what do you want?” There is a hint of doubt there, and JJ hope grows.

“Something simple, something like what we already have.” He smiles, not quite sure of himself, but feeling better when she stays silent and lets him go on, “We chase our dreams at dawn, and it is our secret, that's what you always say.”

He manages to get a laugh from her and his chest erupts with happiness, a welcoming feeling that suppresses the anxiety in his chest.

“I just really want to call you mine.”

(Y/N) looks at him like she is about to break his heart, but he doesn't walk back, by God he'd let her, he'll let her.

“You don’t live with me JJ, you don’t know how I am. I don't think you would like me as your girlfriend.” She says then, and he can see she is trying to sound gentle. “We don’t even spend enough time together to be in an official relationship.” She stays in silence for a few seconds, as if thinking, JJ can't move away from her even if he tries.  “I am afraid I am not what you think, that you have a totally different idea of who I am for real.” her voice breaks in the last sentence, and her tears finally spill, JJ feels the lump growing back on his throat.

“I’m sorry, I truly am. ‘Cause I like you. But we are not meant to last, we chase our dreams in the dawn, we are always smiling, we are always having fun, we do things without worrying about the consequences until it's too late. We are good in bed and…” she takes her hands off his, “we are a teenage summer romance. We're not meant to last.”

They stay in silence again, JJ watches her, heart hurting, and still, so in love, somehow even more sure that this is indeed love. (Y/N) wipes her tears off and tries to give him a smile. He doesn't say anything, he knows she needs to go, he needs it too, to think, he knows the best thing to do now is to go home and sleep with these thoughts.

He only gives her a smile back, assuring her that he did understand.

She leaves.

[mayoonn]

HELLO I HAVE A REQUEST :3

A cowboy comes to work on a ranch and is set up to live in the barn, at night the farmer sends out his oldest son (y/n) to bring the cowboy dinner, the two start to talk and drink a little, the farmer eventually calls his son back to the main house. The next day the cowboy offers to show y/n how to care for horses and they go on a ride together until it starts to rain and they wait out the rain under a bunch of trees but the two need to be huddled together to stay dry. There’s lightning and y/n is startled (not scared, they just weren’t expecting the noise) and holds onto the cowboy, then after staring at each other for a little they kiss

This makes no sense, I haven’t slept in 2 days

-🎱

Hello, dearest! Oh my, I hope you have your sleep, dear.. Sleep is very important but this is so cute, makes me giggle when I think about it (*>∇<)ﾉ ♥︎♥︎

Sorry , it took longer than I expected though I was sure the story is a little confusing. I was writing this while I went out earlier ꨄ

( Male reader! It can be cis or trans, very sweet fluff, mention of the reader being a tease, flirty reader, smitten cowboy, mention of the reader's father being protective)

You were helping out with your mama, feeding and cleaning the horses while your mama was cooking. You were used to people, specifically cowboys coming in and worked a bit for your father on the ranch for extra money. You heard a lot of their story, all while they're cool but they all had in common, confident and cocky. You huffed in amusement whenever they tried to get to you, flirting and wooing you but your father kept you away from them.

It's funny, really. You're not that handsome yourself like the others said or so you assumed. You're just like your mama, you suppose it's your charm that makes you attractive. Sometimes you entertain yourself, flirt with them back and give them a little hope, only to get crushed when you decline their sweet offers.

One evening, while you're washing the dishes while humming your favorite tune. You saw a cowboy come and talk with your father, at first you thought it was just another cowboy like any other though something about him caught your eyes. You can't look away from him, his horse is so pretty and elegant. It's like it was for royalties, it's odd for a cowboy like him to have a horse like that. You chuckle, it is quite funny. You were caught by the cowboy as he gave you a cheeky grin, of course you looked away in embarrassment as you continued your chores. You can't believe you get caught by the cowboy, you're not used to getting flustered.

You sighed, getting him off of your mind. You should probably finish your chores as soon as you can, your mama doesn't like slacking off. You get up and carefully bring the plates and the cutleries to your mama, tonight is special.

Tonight was the night that everybody took their breaks, whether drinking until sunset, playing bets and gamble. It's the busiest night, full of cowboys and girls all around the town. It's the night you like to have fun with them too. It's the best way you get your tips, sometimes you just want to have fun. You were bringing arms full of plates to the tables and gave them your signature smile with a wink. You were having fun, chatting (more like flirting) with your customers until your father had called you.

You waved them goodbye and giggled when they had this lovesick smile on their faces. Your father had told you to bring the dinner to your guest, you were surprised. You never bring food to your guests,usually it's your younger sisters or brothers. You were curious, who could it be? It wasn't shocking if it's a cowboy or a cowgirl but you were sure you gave them a little extra attention. You wonder if they're fun to play with. You bring dinner to the barn and when you enter with a smile on your face, you see it was him again. The cowboy tipped his hat at you and went to take his dinner. With his grin on his face, he invited you to sit down next to him.

Of course you agreed, you were intrigued by him for no reason, maybe it's because of his handsome face or he's so well mannered with you. "My father won't like it if I'm slacking with ya, mister" you smirked as the cowboy chuckled, continued eating his dinner and thanked you. You kept chatting with few flirting here and there while the cowboy looked at you with glint in his eyes. You actually don't mind, it's like you're slowly felt comfortable with him. It's been a while since anyone wants to talk to you without them trying to win you over.

It's nice, you stood up once you realized how late it was and you need to help your mama and father out before they get suspicious. You waved goodbye at him with a smile on your face, getting flustered that you would rather stay there with him.

ᨏᨐᨓ............................................................ᨓᨐᨏ

The next day, you were doing your chores like usual. It was fun while it lasted last night, you hoped you could talk to that cowboy again. You heard he'll be going off later or tomorrow morning, maybe you could give him something so he can be remembered. You were so focused on what charms to give him that you didn't notice the cowboy behind you. You flinched, surprised when someone tapped your shoulder as you turned around. It was that cowboy again, "hey darlin'.. Uhh I.. You wanna ride with me?" He shyly asked as he averted his eyes, you could see small tinted blush over his cheeks. This was the first, you never had anyone so shy with you.

You smirked, "to where? My father will-" you were cut off by him quickly with his face flushed redder than before. "I already asked ya' dad, he gave me permission.. Would ya'?" He looked at you as if he was trying to be serious and intimidating but he was failing, he's shy and screaming inside as he hoped you would accept his offer. You were shocked, not only from being cut off but your father giving him permission! You were a bit suspicious but you accepted, you don't want to turn down his offer.. It's a once in a lifetime, sure you often get this from the others but this cowboy is different. You walked past him, went to his horse and you swore you could hear him silently cheer to himself. You chuckle and wait for him next to his horse.

It's been a long time since you rode horses, especially when your father won't let you outside unless you were doing your chores. The cowboy helps you sit on his horse while he sits behind you with his hand hugging your waist and the other holding the lead. You didn't want to think about it, people hold your waist a lot whether it's to move you somewhere or to flirt with you so why were you flustered now when he does it?

ᨏᨐᨓ............................................................ᨓᨐᨏ

You were screamed in joy, laughing as you yelled at him to go fast. The hair flew as you shut your eyes, eyes filled with tears as you cheered. Soon, he slowed down as your laugh also slowed down. Your hands were up when you rambled to him about the experience earlier until you could feel the raindrops. You looked up to see grey clouds as the cowboy guided you under a bunch of trees. "It won't do much but at leas' it's betta' than outside in the rain, sugar" he said as he huddled with you, trying to warm you up as you shivered, startled by the sudden lightning. You nodded your head with a smile on your face, that makes him looked away flustered again.

You laughed at him as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Grinning to yourself and waiting for the rain to stop until the cowboy tilted your chin up, staring at you as you both slowly leaned closer. Your eyes slowly shut once both of your lips were together, he kissed you with gentle care. It was more romantic from what you expected to be your first kiss.. He moved away with his cheeks flushed red, he shyly smiled at you. He was smitten as you both huddled together, his horse laying its head down ♡

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Fragment Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

[Warning]: The content of this date is pretty explicit and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

He traces a trail of delicate nibbles along my neck, kissing the path where life itself flows.

I feel those affectionate yet slightly demanding marks being etched again and again. For some reason, I find myself speaking without thinking.

"Bite me, Lucien."

Translation under the cut!

[T/N: This date references some dates in the past; like his Prison Date, Monochrome Scenery Exclusive Past and its Event Story,  “Lab Koi” call, his Last year’s Birthday Story, and The Sea No Longer Distant MQ. Since this date has a lot of callback, I think it’d be better if you read those dates, events, and phone calls first if you haven’t :>; or at least the MQ and birthday story one because this date is also some kind of extension to those]

[Subbed Video]

[Transcript Ver]

=[Part 1]=

I wake up to the faint whirring of the fan and the subtle scent of a fruity fragrance lingering in the air. I turn over in bed, slowly blinking my eyes open.

The brilliant sunlight filters through the lace curtains, casting iridescent patches of light that dance playfully across Lucien's body.

He sits in a rattan chair by the window, flipping through a book in his hand. An exquisite purple clay tea set rests on a side table nearby.

For a fleeting, dreamlike moment, I feel like I've traveled back to the 1970s.

As if sensing my gaze, Lucien turns his head, and a hint of a smile appears in his eyes as he looks at me.

Lucien: It seems a certain lady hasn't adjusted to the time difference yet.

Lucien: It is now noon in U.S. time.

My foggy brain finally starts to turn sluggishly. I leave the bed, drag a chair over to sit beside him and yawn again.

MC: It can't be helped. It's already the wee hours in Loveland City.

Lucien: [teasingly] Oh? But as I recall, a certain night owl sometimes doesn't go to bed obediently even at those hours.

MC: [pouts] ....Hmph, you're one to talk, Mr. I-Don't-Need-Sleep!*

[T/N: MC actually calls him 进化了睡眠的人 here, which literally means “evolved sleep people”, it might be referring to him seemingly have evolved beyond the need of sleep😂]

Lucien: I've been quite well-behaved lately, haven't I? And when it comes to sleep duration, well, let's just say you're the ‘expert’.

Lucien blinks at me innocently, and I quickly take a sip of the tea he offers, hoping he won’t delve deeper into this topic.

A sweet and sour sensation blooms in my mouth. Perhaps there are other unknown herbs added, as I also detect a hint of honeyed sweetness.

✂———————–

=Flashback start=

Ten hours ago, in the dim and quiet cabin, the only sound was the occasional soft tapping of a keyboard from the seat next to me.

I lifted a corner of my eye mask and leaned closer.

MC: It's time for sleep, Professor Lucien. Didn't you say the seminar doesn't start until next week? We arrived three days early.

Lucien: That's true, but I don't plan to use this time for conference preparations.

Lucien: After all, a certain classmate expressed a desire to take this opportunity to visit my lab from my master's and Ph.D. days. I want to dedicate my time fully to you without any interruptions from other matters.

Beyond his words, I sensed other emotions in his earnest tone.

MC: [curiously] Is our Professor Lucien nervous because I'm going to visit the places where you once studied and lived?

Lucien: Yes.

He admitted it frankly, his eyes lit up as he looked at me.

Lucien: That place is very important to me.

Lucien: This feeling is like... inviting you to step into a chapter of my past.

Lucien: It should be a proper occasion, something worth your anticipation.

=Flashback end=

✂———————–

As I step out the door, a wave of heat washes over me. Thankfully, the house is nestled among the trees, providing some relief from the sweltering heat.

Lucien leads me down the stone steps, deeper into the verdant greenery. The lively apple trees grow abundantly, and even the breeze seems to carry a sweet fragrance.

The bed-and-breakfast he booked is located within Carver Estate Farm, not far from the lab. Since it's still early, we decided to take a stroll in the farm's orchard first.

MC: Now I finally feel like I'm truly on an American farm—

Lucien: The furniture and decor in that room can indeed be a bit misleading.

Lucien: That said, the radio and clock in the living room are just decorative pieces, and the stainless steel kettle in the kitchen is also fixed to the table.

Lucien: As for the fan and the TV, including the sewing machine, they actually work and can somewhat be considered "antiques.”

MC: When did you…

Lucien: [chuckles] The wait while you're asleep feels endless*, so I have to keep myself busy.

[T/N: Lucien uses the word "难熬" (literally means hard to bear) to describe his feelings while waiting for MC to wake up. Rather than feeling annoyed, the original sentence conveys a sense of longing and impatience, emphasizing how much he misses her so the wait feels unbearable]

Seeing him speak so seriously, I can't help but give his palm a gentle pinch.

Lucien: To be honest, I was a bit curious. I didn't expect the owner to maintain this style, or rather, deliberately preserve it.

MC: Have you been here before?

Lucien: Mm, Dr. Lawson brought the entire lab here before.

✂———————–

[T/N: Dr. Lawson was Lucien's mentor during his Master's and PhD years, in those years Lucien also had some seniors like Colt, Caroline, and Elliot. You can read more in Monochrome Scenery Exclusive Past. It can be said that the time during his Master’s and PhD years was the 'happiest' for him, after he abandoned his name and before he met MC. This young boy discovers that he’s not the only genius in this world. Surprisingly, this isn’t a bad thing; because being considered a genius had previously isolated him from his peers, but being surrounded by other geniuses provides him with a taste of mundane life… although he can’t fully taste it due to Black Swan’s pressure :"]

✂———————–

=[Part 2]=

Lucien: I remember it was autumn. We had just finished a phase of our experiment.

Lucien: The process of this experiment was very prolonged, and almost everyone expended a lot of effort. Fortunately, the results exceeded expectations.

Lucien: As a celebration, or perhaps simply out of a need for a break, Dr. Lawson suggested an outing after the experiment concluded.

MC: Sounds like a team-building activity?

Lucien: [chuckles] You could say that.

Lucien smiles lightly.

Lucien: At first, we all thought it would just be a matter of finding a nice restaurant, having a meal and chatting, or going to the theater to watch a performance.

Lucien: It wasn't until everyone received an email from Dr. Lawson that we realized we had been granted a mandatory five-day vacation. And the destination was this very farm estate.

MC: Pfft, Dr. Lawson is quite ceremonious about giving everyone a day off~ So, did everyone just obediently accept the arrangement?

I notice Lucien pausing, lost in thought, which is unusual for him. Then, a smile spreads on his lips.

Lucien: [chuckles] Not exactly.

Lucien: Eventually, everyone practically treated this place as a lab annex, almost bringing in equipment. Fortunately, the farm owner was an old friend of Dr. Lawson's, so we weren't kicked out.

MC: Hahaha, I knew it!

As we walk deeper into the apple orchard, the intertwined branches and leaves block out the sunlight, creating a vast expanse of shade. Vibrant red apples dot the lush greenery, looking especially tempting.

Lucien: The farm owner is an elderly Chinese gentleman. It's said that he and his wife came here to live when they were young, and this apple orchard was also planted by them with their own hands.

MC: No wonder. I think I suddenly understand why the house's decor feels so nostalgic.

Lucien: Perhaps it's precisely because they've been away for so long that they need tangible things to solidify those memories.

The swaying shadows of the trees dance in his deep eyes, and even though he's talking about someone else, I feel like I'm hearing unspoken words meant for himself.

So I rise on my tiptoes and cup his face, turning it towards me.

MC: So today, little Lucien is revisiting his old stomping grounds~ And as such an accomplished young professor, no less!

MC: This memory is very precious, and it's important to solidify it well.

Lucien: Is that so?

His voice is soft as he lowers his eyelashes and gazes into my eyes.

I feel like my entire being is almost seen through by him. He doesn't say a word, just keeps looking at me.

MC: Why are you staring at me?

Lucien: [chuckles] I'm solidifying this memory.

MC: Um?

Lucien: Because I'm not just here by myself.

Lucien: Today, I'm revisiting this place with my girlfriend. I want to look closely, carefully, and remember your appearance clearly.

I can't help but laugh, my fingertips brushing against his earlobe.

MC: Then how about remembering a bit more~ What else did little Lucien do here?

Lucien: I ate the apples.

MC: ....That doesn't count!

Lucien: Of course it counts. To be precise, it was an apple feast, with apple pie, apple muffins, apple salad, apple stew…

MC: Stop...! You're making me dizzy just looking at these apple trees now.

MC: I feel like they're saying to me, "I'm apple pie, I'm apple muffin…”

I dramatically shake my head and point to the huge fruits hanging above us.

Lucien seems amused by my actions. Seizing the moment, he smoothly takes my hand and plucks the apple hanging closest to us.

Lucien: [chuckles] Then let's eat them all, one by one.

He finishes speaking and even "conjures" a thin blanket from his bag, spreading it on the ground. He pulls me, who is still processing the moment, to sit under the tree.

His seamless actions leave me completely unable to keep up with him, and my questions come out in a jumble.

MC: C- Can we just pick the apples here? And sit down like this? And this blanket…

Lucien: I told you waiting for you to wake up feels endless, and I wasn't lying.

He looks as if he knows I can't do anything about him, and his tone, though seemingly aggrieved, is full of triumph.

We sit side-by-side under the tree, falling into a brief silence. The wind gently blows, as if not wanting to disturb this tranquility.

Lucien & MC: What are you thinking about?

Suddenly, we speak at the same time, and the unexpected coincidence makes us look at each other and laugh.

MC: You go first~

Lucien: I was wondering if an apple might fall on my head.

He says it so seriously that I find it rather cute. On a whim, I get up, pluck an apple, and then gently tap him on the head.

MC: Knock knock…

Lucien seems surprised by my action, the light in his pupils flickers.

Lucien: [gently] What about you?

MC: Me…

I smile sheepishly.

MC: I thought of a fairy tale, Prince... Snow White.

Lucien: But that's not how I remember the story?

MC: Because… this is a story I imagined!

Lucien nods thoughtfully, not minding my nonsense at all, but instead curving his eyes in a good mood.

Lucien: Then in your story, who are you?

This question stumps me for a moment, and I pause to think seriously before answering.

MC: I'm the magic mirror.

Lucien: Because the magic mirror knows everything?

MC: [smiles softly] Not really, it's because the magic mirror only looks at...the prince.

MC: And if I were the magic mirror, I wouldn't need you to ask, I'd tell you that—

MC: Lucien is the most handsome, the most intelligent, the most amazing, and the person I love the most in this entire world.

My voice is not loud, yet it feels like the entire orchard of apples has heard it. Their already gorgeous red blushing even deeper, making their vibrancy impossible to conceal.

My clamorous heart seems to be thoroughly exposed by the sun, allowing me to distinctly feel its beating and clearly see the smile filling Lucien's eyes.

He lowers his head, takes a bite of the apple in his hand, and lies down without hesitation.

Our hands, which have been holding each other all along, pull me slightly forward because of his sudden movement.

MC: …!

Lucien lies lazily on the plush blanket, each strand of hair scattering softly, as if quietly outlining his innermost feeling at this moment.

His already loose shirt falls open completely, revealing a patch of skin.

He gently blinks and the corners of his lips slightly curl up.

Under the scorching heat, the apples hanging from the branches exude an even more enticing fragrance.

The wind gathers from afar, wave after wave, sweeping through the villa, the woods, and each apple tree, carrying an increasingly rich scent toward us.

His fingertip traces mine, gently caressing the sensitive skin between my thumb and index finger.

It's like some kind of seduction.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Miss Magic Mirror, I've been poisoned.

His voice is soft as if melting into the sunlight, yet it possesses a bewitching power that makes one willingly lean closer to him.

Lucien: You can kiss me now.

✂———————–

[T/N: Prince Snow White and Miss Magic Mirror… it’s a reference to his second Halloween date; Prison Date! Also, I love the way it seamlessly fits in the theme of ‘lover is like a mirror’ from last year's kiss SP; Blooming Amidst Turbulent Desires MQ... perhaps by seeing your lover's eyes you can see the real and complete you :”. And unique to Lucien, it could be that only through seeing his reflection in her eyes can he perceive the colorful version of himself]

✂———————–

=[Part 3]= 

After buying some apple cookies at the farm store and making a reservation for apple cider making tomorrow, we drive to Dr. Lawson's lab.

The asphalt road under the shade of the trees glistens in the summer light. In the distance, sailboats glide on the river and people cycle along the riverbank.

Perhaps it's due to the fluttering anticipation in my heart, but the half-hour drive feels like it's over in the blink of an eye.

✂———————–

Lucien: Dr. Lawson is giving a lecture in London this week, and the current head of the lab is my senior, Colt. After graduation, he stayed on to continue the research.

Lucien: But he happens to be leading a group of students in an academic exchange with another lab today…

Lucien pauses for a moment, moves the gift bag he just placed on the desk to the side, and takes a sticky note off the computer screen.

Lucien: [quietly reading the sticky note] …..

He waves the sticky note at me, and I can clearly see the lively handwriting on it: "Enjoy: )".

Lucien: It seems like no one will be back today. In that case, let's graciously accept this invitation to enjoy ourselves.*

[T/N: "恭敬不如从命" means “it's more respectful to follow a request than to decline it out of politeness.” In this case, rather than refusing Colt's invitation, they graciously accept and agree to enjoy the day as requested]

✂———————–

The white walls make the spacious corridor even brighter. Along the way, the walls of classrooms and laboratories are adorned with various awards and patent certificates.

It seems that just by passing through, one can feel countless figures with unceasing footsteps, moving forward persistently and rationally, knocking on one unknown door after another.

✂———————–

Lucien: The desk by the window was the place I most often sat in the lab. Because I always sat there, it eventually became my ‘workstation’.

Lucien: Even if I arrived late, everyone would save this seat for me;

Lucien: [chuckles] But I don't really have a fixed seat in the library. I've never known if those people who are already looking up information early in the morning are actually early risers or if they just never went to bed;

Lucien: Occasionally, when the weather was nice, professors would take us out to the lawn for class;

Lucien: This vending machine used to swallow coins. I wonder if it's been fixed…

Lucien leads me through the corridor, past the small garden, into classrooms, laboratories, and the library…

Perhaps even he himself hasn't realized it, but returning here has made him happy.

It's in the little things he doesn't even realize he's doing: the way his steps quicken without him noticing, the instinctive caress of his fingertips against my palm, the soft murmurs he makes when he notices something different from his memories.

And even the hint of joy as he reveals those past memories with me.

He leads me by the hand through every nook and cranny of this place, making me feel as if I'm walking through his youth.

Finally, we arrive at the dormitory building. 

Lucien: Generally, everyone lives here. They're mostly single rooms, so you have a lot of privacy.

MC: I remember you mentioned it before, so is this the common lounge area?

In this not-so-large space in front of us, several sofas and coffee tables are neatly arranged, and the bar counter displays simple everyday items.

Lucien: Mm, usually everyone relaxes here while waiting for experiment results. Occasionally, we also play a round of NOU.

MC: Pfft, I didn't expect this kind of leisure activity.

Lucien: [chuckles] To be precise, it's a traditional activity.

Sensing an interesting topic, I quickly shake his hand and press for more details.

MC: What else? What other things do you do?

Lucien thinks for a moment, then suddenly smiles.

Lucien: There's actually one interesting thing.

Lucien: In the past, before important experimental results were concluded, everyone would tacitly let a certain colleague touch the experiment machine a few more times, and then pray to it.

Lucien: And often, the results wouldn't be too bad, and there was a high probability of exceeding expectations.

MC: Hahaha, so he's the ‘lab koi’ you were talking about!

[T/N: It’s a reference to the  “Lab Koi” call from last year!]

Lucien nods, the warm white light tracing the contours of his face, making his features appear even softer.

I can hear the nostalgia in his voice that he unintentionally revealed, and I know that he might be thinking about a lot of things at this moment.

I'm reluctant to break this brief silence*, my gaze subconsciously drifting towards this lounge, as if I could catch a glimpse of the genius boy who had once been here.

[T/N: The phrase "不舍得" (bù shě de) expresses a reluctance or unwillingness to part with something precious or cherished. While the English translation "reluctant" conveys the general idea, it might not fully capture the way MC cherishes this rare moment of Lucien being so nostalgic that she's reluctant to break🤧]

Suddenly, my attention is drawn to the wall next to the bar counter.

It's a small display wall. Besides showcasing some achievement certificates of past researchers, there's also a handwritten message board and some photos.

It turns out there will always be someone who earnestly preserves and longs for the past, with all its time and traces.

I quickly find a familiar figure among them.

It's a slightly blurry photo, almost as if it were a frame grabbed from a video.

The boy surrounded by the crowds slightly widened his eyes, a bouquet of flowers was thrust into his arms as he let the others boisterously tease and laugh around him.

Lucien: [chuckles, his voice exclaims a little in surprise] ...So, I really was quite surprised back then.

Lucien quietly walks up behind me at some point, his gaze intently fixed on this photo.

The world is truly a wondrous place. It appears to operate according to established principles, yet it often defies logic.

Those emotions that he never understood in the past are now brought before him in some fateful way, regaining their meaning and significance.

Lucien gazes at the girl beside him, observing her happiness and surprise, witnessing all the beautiful emotions that have blossomed because of him.

But she has no idea that her existence has allowed him to see how beautiful the world is.

Lucien's gaze slowly returned to the photo.

Countless colorful ribbons flutter in the air, shimmering and sparkling. The colors, engraved with blessings and well-wishes, seem to transcend time, flowing into his eyes in this very moment.

He speaks softly.

Lucien: It turns out that day was actually so lively.

✂———————–

The last scene is about his Last year’s Birthday Story! He graduated with his PhD on his birthday. This graduation was celebrated by his seniors and professor. At that time, everything was monochrome in his eyes. However, visiting the place with MC and seeing his graduation photo with her brings color to a memory that was once only in black and white. He now realizes how lively and vibrant that day truly was.

✂———————–

=[Part 4]=

MC: Are you saying that Senior Brother Colt and Senior Sister Caroline being together was something specifically emailed to you?

Lucien gives a helpless smile.

Lucien: Their reasoning was that I'd receive the information faster by email, and it turns out they were absolutely right.

MC: Hahaha!

We walk back, laughing and chatting. Along the way, I listen to Lucien share stories from his past that he seldom opens up about, about the later developments of his companions, and their current situations.

Some things he tells me without much recollection, while others he needs to think about for a moment. But it seems that the process of remembering makes him a bit happier.

One intersection away from the farm, we pass by a market and stop to buy some food.

Lucien: I'll take the things to the car first, wait for me here.

MC: Okay~ I'll be right here at the market.

While waiting for Lucien to get the car, I notice a stall at the market.

A silver-haired grandma is engrossed in weaving bracelets, her stall filled with dazzling beaded ornaments that shimmer under the soft glow of the glass lamps.

Suddenly, an idea strikes me, and I walk towards the stall.

✂———————–

MC: Ah, it's so hot.

As soon as I enter the house, I hurriedly turn on the air conditioner and fan.

Although the temperature here is still quite pleasant compared to the summer in Loveland City, I’m probably still jet-lagged that I feel a little dizzy.

Struggling to fight the rising drowsiness, I sort and organize the purchased items with Lucien.

Lucien: How about having dinner at the farm's eco-restaurant tonight? That way you can sleep earlier and won't be too tired.

Lucien: Or should we go somewhere farther to try some local specialties?

MC: Either is fine with me~ But before we eat, I need to do something important first.

I arrange the washed apples in a fruit bowl and pull Lucien to sit down with me.

I fish the woven bracelet I bought earlier from the stall out of my pocket. I pull his arm towards me and carefully, with a sense of cherishing, fasten the bracelet around his wrist.

Lucien clasps my wrist in return, his gaze shifting from the bracelet to me, as if waiting for an explanation.

MC: It's just... I suddenly wanted to give you something.

MC: Maybe it's because I saw your photos in the lounge earlier, or maybe it's because I heard so much about your past today.

MC: Even though I knew what those days truly meant to you, it wasn't until I actually went there that I realized…

MC: Everything about Lucien has been well treasured.

He's looking at me, hanging on to my every word.

MC: I'm so lucky to have picked them up again and to have pieced them together with you.

MC: To let them become you, the complete person standing before me.

Gazing into his eyes and seeing the one and only figure reflected there, I feel surprisingly calm and settled inside.

I gently caress his wrist twice.

MC: You see, I tied this knot myself! And I picked out this little agate bead super carefully. Don't you think it's pretty?

MC: It can be like the apple that falls on your head and sparks inspiration or the one that tempts you to be curious about everything.

MC: But now, it is also the "apple" I am giving to you.

MC: [smiles softly] Lucien, I hope the present me can also become a special fragment, forever remaining in your memories.

Pinkish-purple hues gently paint the horizon, and a beam of light happens to fall in, illuminating the agate bead.

The smooth texture is brightly highlighted, making the color seem to dance, leaping into those beautiful dark eyes.

Lucien: [softly] Indeed… very vibrant.

Lucien: Like an apple.

As he says this, he looks at me, his brows and eyes curving into a beautiful arc, leaving me momentarily unsure of what exactly he's referring to.

MC: Then let’s go eat…!

My cheeks start to feel warm as I belatedly realize what he means, and as I try to rise from his embrace, an irresistible force pulls me back onto his lap.

The arm wrapped around my waist tightens slightly, deepening the embrace.

Lucien: [whispers seductively] Before that, I also have something important to do.

He lowers his head, kissing the little agate bead cherishingly, then gently moves his kisses to my fingertips resting on his wrist, his lips slowly trailing upward, inch by inch.

Each kiss is feather light and slow, as if he’s carefully tracing every detail, until every part of my skin is stained with his warmth.

Lucien: MC.

He gives my earlobe another gentle peck before pulling back slightly, creating a small distance between us.

Lucien: [softly] Today, I've felt the significance of those seemingly meaningless moments from the past.

Lucien: It turns out there are many other people in my dreams.

[T/N: This part is what I mean by the date being the extension of last month's MQ (The Sea No Longer Distant MQ). It can be said that on this date, Lucien finally understands what MC means in that MQ. It's like... growing a 'heart' and feeling emotions that he doesn't comprehend before. He's lucky to have many people willing to ‘dream’ together with him🥺]

His abrupt change of topic leaves me momentarily confused as if he’s speaking in riddles. It takes me a moment to catch up and understand what he’s talking about.

Memories of the beach from a month ago flood back. I look into those eyes that are still fixed on me, and I seem to see emotions in them that weren't there before.

Lucien: You're right. People are complex, and they're also greedy.

Lucien: Because of you, I've accepted many things, and as a result, I desire even more.

Lucien: I'm curious about what other changes I'll experience because of you, and what surprises you'll bring me.

Lucien: And besides curiosity, there's also expectation.

I tilt my head up and kiss the corner of his lips.

MC: Then keep being curious about me.

MC: I like that you're curious about me.

I reach out to touch Lucien's face, wanting to look more clearly into his eyes.

Lucien: [whispers softly] Miss Magic Mirror, can you tell me…

Lucien: In your eyes, what am I like at this very moment?

I can't help but laugh.

MC: Right now, your eyes are the color of the entire sky. They're so beautiful.

MC: Your hair is bestowed with the warm glow of the setting sun, looking soft and fluffy. Your lips…

As I talk, I give him another kiss.

MC: It makes me want to do this.

Lucien also starts laughing.

MC: Lucien, right now, everything about you is complete in my eyes, and I can see you clearly.

He leans down again, his warm and moist breath brushing against my neck as he kisses me, causing subtle tingling sensations on my skin.

I instinctively try to pull away, but as I reach out to hold onto the back of his neck, he firmly holds me in place.

My legs dangle, unable to find a foothold, forcing me to use all my strength to hook onto his lap, while my other hand blindly grabs onto the curtain.

The crimson sunset spills over us unrestrainedly. As if dazzled by the spots of light, Lucien lifts me towards him, shifting a little as he holds me.

Amid the rocking motion, his leg accidentally touches the nearby coffee table, making a noise.

The sudden weightlessness makes me instinctively tighten my arms, causing him to gently bite my collarbone.

His scorching breath brushes against my neck like a feather, his scent overwhelming and filling every corner. It mingles with the fruity fragrance in the air, creating an even more alluring aroma.

Out of the corner of my eye, the goldfish in the fish bowl seem startled as well, swaying and swinging, leaving behind two tangled and intertwined trails*.

The skin grazed by my fingertips starts to burn, and I'm getting hot too.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] MC, you make me feel a gentle gaze.

Right now, we probably can't see each other's expressions, but it's as if we can see everything.

His low, hoarse voice resonates against my neck, and his moving lips make my throat vibrate, as though his words and voice have become my own.

Lucien: [x2] Make me feel truly seen by you, deeply loved by you**.

Lucien: [x3] Make me… feel happy and satisfied.

He traces a trail of delicate nibbles along my neck, kissing the path where life itself flows.

I feel those affectionate yet slightly demanding marks being etched again and again. For some reason, I find myself speaking without thinking.

MC: Bite me, Lucien.

The rustling of clothes suddenly stops, and his breathing also ceases, as if he is holding his breath.

I know my face is burning bright red, but I only shyly embrace him, moving myself even closer to him.

MC: I've also been seen by you and possessed by you.

In the sweaty air, I hear his long, drawn-out breath.

But in the next moment, they are all swept into my lips and tongue, obtaining all my oxygen in a different way.

Lucien: [kisses and pants] It is because you possess me that I am complete.

Lucien: [x2] Please keep possessing me forever… MC.

Lucien: [x3] In this world, only you will possess this kind of me.

.

.

.

———FIN———–

[T/N]

*: The fish in the bowl description might seem out of place, but it's not! It alludes to '鱼水之欢' (lit. 'the joy of fish and water'), which is a Chinese idiom that describes the joy and intimacy of sexual intercourse or the metaphor for the act itself. It's also an idiom that is a metaphor for the intimate and harmonious emotional or sexual life of men and women.

**: This is my favorite line in this because of the way it emphasizes Lucien's feeling of being understood and cherished 🤧 “看见" (kàn jiàn, to see) has the connotation of being acknowledged and truly understood. I think, for Lucien, being ‘seen’ and understood is significant; understanding the world is his thing as a scientist, so when someone makes an effort to understand him, it means a lot to him. Then the use of directly spoken “爱” (ài) which is a very, very sentimental word to say compared to how the west uses ‘love’ regularly… and the way it also encompasses a sense of enduring love, a sense of care, cherishing, and protectiveness🥺

Those last lines!!!!! Under her gaze, he feels utterly seen, completely known, and thus, entirely himself. It's because she possesses him fully that he feels complete. While others in his life may hold only fragments of him, she alone possesses his entirety. As the fox says in "The Little Prince," “But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.” It is through her 'taming' that his completeness becomes something uniquely hers and hers alone.

And as Lucien mentioned in the Radio Broadcast Date, his form of possessiveness goes beyond one-sided control or dominance. Rather than just possessing her, he longs even more for her to possess him. To let her influence and 'change' him. Their possessiveness is a two-way thing: just as he is insatiable and wants all of her, he also craves to belong to the one he loves and to surrender himself entirely. After all, possessiveness is also a form of exceptional cherishing of the other party (his words in radio broadcast date, not mine), and he enjoys the feeling of being cherished and loved in this way.

[shygirl4991]

Chapter 2 Artistic Ringmaster

All art is done by @b-r-i-n-g-x be sure to check out her other stuff! Please do not repost art!

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Tags: Action/Adventure, Romance, fluff, angst with a happy ending!, blood, character death, injury, SMG34 is canon, split au

SMG3 finishes explaining everything that happened to him, Four could only sit there in shock as Producer took notes during the story. SMG4 sits there, silent as he takes everything in. He turns to stare at Producer who finishes writing the last of his notes, the closer he looks the more he starts to worry that he would end up looking like this from lack of sleep. With a sigh he gets up and walks over to his boyfriend, slowly he grabs the man’s face examining him. There he saw the changes the man has gone through, he gasped seeing the subtle changes. His teeth were sharper, his face was more gentle not to mention his hair seemed more smooth then it used to be.

SMG4 takes a step back trying to process everything, his eyes stopping at the pins on the overall strap. “So the reason you were dressed in pink, that was your personality Heart 3. I…your heart was literally right in front of me and I still couldn't see anything.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, if he thought he was blind to his boyfriend's emotion, having this knowledge was the nail on the coffin. His breathing started to get heavy the  more he thought about it. What kind of boyfriend can't figure out something is different with his own boyfriend?

Seeing that both Three and Producer run up to four, Producer bites his lip thinking of what to say “It’s o-okay original, I know it's scary everything that's happening. The fear that if we make the wrong move we lose everything but…uh.” Producer panics looking at Three unsure where to go next. Three nods as he gently rubs Four’s back “I agree, it will be okay. Mine were amazing and showed me how important it is to accept all of me. You don't have to fear them, I doubt one of them would ever bring harm to you or your loved ones.” SMG4 stares at Producer, the more he looked at the personality the more an old memory was poking at him.

“IT’S GOTTA BE PERFECT!” He pushes the two away from him, his eyes changing from blue to grey. He felt the room close in on himself, those voices came back to him, reminding him how he would never be good enough for his loved ones.  Producer held his head “AH NO! THREE HELP!”  The personality was struggling to hold himself together. It was clear to Three that the personality was trying to hold back a huge panic attack, so he slowly approached his partner. 

“Hey Four, listen to my voice we are going to list some things are you ready?” Seeing his boyfriend nod gave Three confidence. Four looks up, his grey eyes meeting Three’s red ones “Four if you can take a deep breath, then i would like you to name three things you can see.” He watches as his partner lets out a shaky breath before answering him “You, Producer and the table near you guys.” SMG3 smiles, giving him a nod while Producer attempts to relax his breathing, he flips to an empty page on his notepad and draws shapes. Seeing Four less tense, Three kept going “Now Three things you can hear,” Four closed his eyes to focus on the sounds around him “A crowd, someone drawing and your voice.” Four’s body becomes completely relaxed and he starts to give a small smile to his partner, Three smiles back at him “Are you good? Or should we do the last one?” SMG4 hugs Three, he wraps his arms around his boyfriend comforting him. Producer saw Four’s eyes going back to blue, the pull was gone making Producer smile. Shyly, he walks up to the pair and hugs them both, Three sighs when he notices he managed to get himself in a Four hug pile. 

The peaceful moment was then interrupted by the sound of a large crowd, SMG4 pulling from the hug surprised “I thought the crowd noise was in my head!” Producer frowns looking out the window “He really did do it,” curious Three also looks out the window. The pair turn to look confused at Producer, Four nervously smiles at the personality “Uh who are you talking about?” That's when they heard tapping through the speakers. “WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE MAIN EVENT I RINGMASTER 4 SHALL BRING YOU A SHOW YOU WONT FORGET!” Ringmaster twirls the cane and taps on the stage.

Hearing this the group run outside the castle to see a huge crowd cheering on the man on the stage, Four’s eyes go wide seeing the showman tip his top hat while dancing on stage. He smirks looking at the crowd, then stomps on a button causing canons to rise. They aim at the crowd and start launching pillows “Remember folks if you like what you see, then you should all like, comment, and subscribe to the SMG4 channel!” The crowd goes wild grabbing the merchandise as Four turns to Producer. The personality was drawing shapes in the notepad, sensing eye’s on him the personality turns. “That…that's a part of us?”  Producer nods as he looks at the stage. Three gets hit in the face by one of the pillows and glares at it, his face then goes blank “Why am i not surprised that you have a showman personality?”

Four blushes as he avoids his partner's stare, he looks back at the stage and sees the personality doing tricks. It was impressive seeing how fast he was to cover mistakes by turning it into a joke, never once did the smirk on his face fall. SMG3 hums, catching Four’s attention “He sure is full of himself, brings annoying memories.” The comment makes Four frown, long ago SMG4 was full of himself due to being so advanced with memes. Little did he know the reason for it was thanks to being a meme guardian of living memes. He was unfair to many students, one of them being SMG3 which caused years of hatred. Four sighs wondering how they went from trying to kill each other, to currently holding hands watching another him put on a show. Ringmaster stops suddenly as his eyes meet SMG4, with a wink towards his original he removes his hat and bows. “A shame I bring this news, I must end the show folks. The main character of the story is here, I am needed by his side!”  the crowd boos as they all start leaving the showgrounds. Once it cleared out the group walk up to the stage, Ringmaster smiles lovingly at SMG3 “Ah Darling, so happy to see you. I am assuming you will be joining us!”  Three was taken aback by the personality as he awkwardly looks to the side and nods.

Four steps forward, offering his hand with a smile “Nice to meet you, have to say your show was fun!” Ringmaster chuckles, taking his hand. With a shake he lets go and stands on the stage, with a tap of his cane on the floor fireworks launched out “Pleasure to meet you, as you know i'm Ringmaster! I like to call myself the imaginative side, while others..well that purple knows it all likes to call me ego.”  Producer gasps, grabbing Ringmaster’s leg “Is he still around here too?” seeing what he did the personality panicked pulling back. He anxiously stares at the floor “Sorry i… i didn't mean to grab you like that” Ringmaster lets out a chuckle patting Producer’s head “That alright! And to answer your question, sadly yes he is still around.”

SMG4 stands back watching his two personalities interact, slowly he nervously turns to his boyfriend “Heh good thing i got over having a big ego huh?” SMG3 blinks before rubbing the back of his neck, unable to look into his partner's eyes he nods “I mean..you have gotten better, you know about the selfish asshole thing.” Four steps in front of Three, his eyes filled with shock and confusion “What…” that's when Three noticed the man's blue eyes turn red “WHEN WAS I EVER THE ASSHOLE? I have been nothing but charming with helping you and the others, I bring out the best of you all!”  Three sigh’s, he had a feeling that saying something would summon a swap “Four do you remember my cafe opening?!” 

Four lets out a giggle before spinning around to look away from Three “I explained it didnt i my love? We tease and fight all the time, i didnt think my pushing to get your cafe more customers would cause such panic!” Three groans turning Four back then waves his hand “This! THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT BEING A SELFISH ASSHOLE!” Ringmaster frowns as Four’s eyes go back to blue. Awkwardly Ringmaster walks up to Three, Four puts his arm up to stop the personality “I’m sorry Three…i let my ego get the best of me, i don't mean to let things get to my head like this.” Three lets out a soft smile taking his boyfriend's hand “We aren't perfect, I just wanted it to click in your head. Ringmaster is standing right there, you can't escape the fact that you tend to play the main character card and forget we are here too.” 

Ringmaster smiles and pats Three’s back “This is why we date you!” he glares at Ringmaster smacking his hand away from him “GAH! Get away, I don't need to hear that from you…baka.” He blushes and crosses his arm, as he looks away he notices someone in purple running with paint near his cafe. Ignoring Ringmaster flirts, he walks over to his cafe. The strong smell of paint hitting his nostrils, his eyes go wide at the thought of someone vandalizing his shop. He sprints around the corner ready to catch the person painting up his cafe, he freezes when he sees another SMG4. He turns, showing his face covered in paint, his purple eyes going wide in surprise as he looks into Three’s red one. They stare at each other before the purple Four smiles brightly at him “Haha hey there! I got a bit sketchy and thought I would do a fun project!” He gets up putting his hat on and attempts to wipe off the red paint off his cheek, he then twirls his paint brush causing the paint on it to drip on his purple overalls. He winks before pointing to himself “I’m Artist, the creative part of SMG4. Without me you bet your memes our content wouldn't be as fun!” 

Gently he grabs SMG3 hand pulling him closer to see what he was up to, with a soft smile he reveals a mural “Your cafe needed something to call out to customers, so Mister Mcdreamy i painted the internet graveyard on your wall to say hello world im a king!” Three gasps looking over the mural, he felt his eyes water seeing who was in the front “Terrance…you painted my Terrance.” Artist nods, holding Three’s hand for comfort. “Of course, you deserve something bigger to remember your son by.” Without thinking Three pulled Artist close, embracing the personality Three softly chuckles “I love you.” Artist face goes red from the man's confession as Ringmaster scoffs “Ah i find out where you run off to and you get all dovey with him! What about me, the star of this show, I do artistic things too!” Artist pulls away from SMG3 giving a smug look at the showman “Aw is someone jealous?” 

Ringmaster huffs stepping up to the Purple personality “Ha of you? Anyone can grab colors and make pictures! You only got attention because you look like you climbed out of a dumpster, can’t you keep your overalls clean of paint?” Three steps back, staring at the two concerned as Four and Producer walks up. Annoyed by Ringmaster's comment he uses his brush and draws a red line of the man's face, Ringmaster eyes go wide “Did you just…thats it!” He claps, turning his cane into rope, seeing this Artist squeaks and starts to run away.  Three blinks in surprise “Did…he use meme energy?!” Producer panics seeing how the fight is going “Ah wait you two please!” he nervously steps forward trying his best to stop the two from fighting. Four let out a nervous laugh “So you had to deal with this too?” Three looks at the personalities screaming and running around, he closes his eyes gently touching his pins “Nope, they got along almost like brothers. Wonder why that is?” Four frowns as he looks down “Well at least we found all of mine, now we just have to work on getting them back with me.” Three opens his eyes in time to see Ringmaster clapping again changing his cane into a boomerang and tosses it at Artist, he dodges it as the item hits the rooftop ladder of the cafe. Producer nervously grabs onto Artist, not ready for the speed he ends up getting knocked down. 

The moment Producer hits the floor his notepad rips, causing some of his notes to fly in the wind. The personalities freeze as they watch the paper fly away, SMG3 and Four run to check on Producer. “Hey you good PD, that nasty fall got dirt all over you,” Three reaches out to the personality only to be grabbed in a panic “MY NOTES THREE HELP PLEASE EVERYTHING IS ON IT!” Four gently takes Producer’s hand and smiles softly at him. It was strange looking at himself, his own face filled with fear and lack of sleep. It brought back memories he rather kept locked away, he lifted up his anxiety and gave him a hug “Hey it's okay, we will get the papers.” Three and Artist start picking up the papers while Ringmaster frowns, he watches as Producer shakes as Four talks to him. With a sigh he joins the others with picking up the notes, Three gets up with a stack of note papers “Hm..there seems to be one missing.” He looks around as Artist and Ringmaster hand pack their stack of notes, together they apologies to the personality about what happened. While the personalities apologize, SMG3 looks around for the final page. He remembers seeing the small doodle back in the castle, he didn't see that page with the others and knowing how the personality is reacting he had a feeling if one page is left missing he would lose it. 

A strong gust of wind almost made the papers in Three’s hand fly away, as he tightened his hold on the papers he noticed the last page being blown onto the roof. He swears to himself remembering the bombs on the roof were real working bombs, if the paper lands on the wrong spot he was sure Producer would pass out from his notes being burned. As the Four’s are distracted talking to each other, Three starts to climb the ladder slowly as he reaches out for the paper laying close to the bomb. He grabs it and lets out a small cheer, that's when the ladder hinges break. Four gasps seeing the ladder break, dropping Three. Four pushes his personality’s aside to run towards Three, that's when another voice came in. “DON'T WORRY MY FAIR MAIDEN, I SHALL SAVE YOU!” a blur passes Four going full speed towards Three. Four freezes as he sees who came to the rescue, Three shut his eyes ready to slam into the floor “Am I still falling?” He hears a chuckle making him open his eyes “I would never let harm come to you my love!” 

Three’s eyes go wide as he hugs the pages of the notepad close to him “A Four…another Four,” he couldn't believe his eyes as he looked at the personality holding him. He gave him a bright smile, it was so charming Three felt his breath being taken from this personality. Looking away blushing he closes his eyes to process everything “He has more then three…fuck.” 

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 14

I was going to save this episode for last in my Sunday watching like I normally do, but if I'm going to be mad at Pin, I need to get it out of the way, so let me get this point out of the way as well - - -

WHAT IS PIN EVEN SAYING?!

If she thinks marrying a horrible man is her karma for breaking Anin's heart, you know what actually fix that? NOT MARRYING THAT MAN! Pin gives her reasons: she can't embarrass the family and taint their reputation, but like . . . SHE NEVER HAD TO MAKE THIS DECISION IN THIS FIRST PLACE! Anin doesn't give two fucks about anybody but her, and Pin is thinking about everyone else. She is saying she must now live in hell because she did make this decision, but she isn't the only one in hell because she damned both her and Anin to this sentence. Just because I understand her whys doesn't mean I have to like, and I. Don't. Like. It!

And to make me more upset is Pin being pressed about every girl who has been SUPPORTING Anin even though Anin has been a loyal Blue Beauty to Pin SINCE DAY ONE as if Pin ISN'T GETTING MARRIED IN A WEEK! My babygirl is too beautiful and too perfect to be dealing with this.

And that's why Penelope has no color!

I pray that I see Anin in pink by the end of this story, but right now, I'm proud of her for maintaining her color throughout all of this.

AND HER PETTINESS!

Because, in this house, I respect the petty!

Anin understands the importance of a queer community and my beautiful and perfect babygirl is helping her in her time of need just like Anin has helped her.

Yet Penelope is over there just looking miserable and colorless. Once again, I understand her, but what does she want Anin to do? Help her plan her wedding? Redecorate her bedroom, so her future husband will be comfortable in it?! I WANT ANSWERS, PENELOPE!

Of course this cabrón sucks. We've done been knowing that.

Anin ran IN HEELS to get that man, and if a woman is running in heels, you know that shit is serious. GET HIS ASS, POSH SPICE!

Anan sits at the table with To Sir, With Love's Yang as the best brother to ever exist in a QL because, unlike Anon, he does not trust Kuea because his ass IS NEVER AT WORK, which has been pointed out several times.

And he trusts what my girl Prik is saying about this very important matter because Prik has proven to be elite in getting information! Prik isn't a simple gossip. She is a chismosa and that takes skills.

This motherf*cker.

Not even seeing Pin in her and Anin's colors is making me happy right now. Anin's mom is in red, and the sight of Patricia is pissing me off that I'm seeing more red, so let's get back to murdering Kuea.

And this is what I mean by skills! Prik understands how to treat herself and how to make small talk! She doesn't look suspicious like rich chick Anin. No! She easily got the information and a snack by merely asking where that hot guy was today.

And even though Anin said "Yes, ma'am" slightly irritated when Prik told her to move, Anin better appreciate that without Prik's excellent talent, she wouldn't have known any of this. Prik didn't even have a car! She was just walking around and getting the chisme. The royals could NEVER!

THIS MOTHERF*CKER!

Girl, no! Just like Penelope, I get her reasoning, but this man done lied to you a million times. Your baby deserves better!

PATRICIA! I HATE YOU!

And now I am back where I started. Penelope believes Anin but will stay with Kuea because . . . reasons.

Anin is probably trying to figure out why she loves this pendeja so damn much. Girl, why we love the people we love just doesn't make sense sometimes. This is one of those times.

My Mexican grandmother is coming out in me because all I keep thinking is Penelope better be drinking lots of water if she wants to keep crying all these tears.

Prik telling Penelope that Anin left with Aon, then telling Penelope to smile shouldn't come across as Prik being loyal to Anin, but if I was Prik, I would get my digs in where I could too. I'm not romanticizing being poor, but that big bed in that big house ain't worth it, girl. Anin wanted YOU!

And now this is where my feelings get hurt by the colors, and I start singing Adele.

"WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL, ROLLING IN THE DEEP!"

"NEVER MIND, I'LL FIND SOMEONE LIKE YOU! I WISH NOTHING BUT THE BEST FOR YOU!"

THIS MOTHERFUCKER!

Anan, get up right now and smack your bother. My beautiful and perfect babygirl is right next to him and she will help you. Start a fight, so the wedding gets postponed.

I FUCKING HATE THIS!

Whew! That was an amazing hour of television. Blessed to be alive the same time this is airing.