#anyway i really like what i did with this fic even if it is on the lighter side of things

[suugarbabe]

curls || mattheo riddle

summary: you couldn't help yourself, you just had to fix them. it's not like he seemed to mind your fingers in his hair anyway.

an: another yap fic courtesy of me and @musingsofahufflepuff ; you're welcome. had to include the pic because if you have brown curly hair i'm in love with you.

warnings: none; just fluffy goofiness.

Staring wasn’t usually an issue for you. Typically you could take your glances here and there and still focus on what you needed to do. But today, you just couldn’t turn away.

Mattheo wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't even really your friend...you didn't think at least. You weren't in his little group of pals. But he also didn't ignore you like he did most people.

People often thought it was strange how nice he was to you. Not that he ever really sought you out or anything, but if your paths crossed he would say hello to you, would smile at you even.

You knew he was attractive, and your friends were convinced that he thought you were too. Of course you brushed those off. However if he was your boyfriend your current irritation could be fixed without question.

Mattheo's hair looked flat as hell.

The top of his head looked like he'd been wearing an American baseball cap for about a week straight. His hair seemingly flat around his skull and his curls twisting at the ends.

It really was a shame. If he would just fluff his roots his entire hair would come back to life, you were sure of it. But you couldn't just jump the desk in front of you to get to him, rifle your own fingers through his scalp and revive his ringlets.

"Alright everyone! Partner up, partner up!" Slughorn waved his hands in the air, dismissing the class to form pairs for brewing Draught of the Living Death.

Immediately you rounded your table, lightly grabbing his elbow. Mattheo turned towards you at your touch, a grin forming on his lips. "Partners?" You asked, hoping your look didn't appear to pleading.

"Sure thing, babe," Mattheo responded without hesitation, pulling the stool next to him out for you before grabbing your books from your previous table.

Throughout the potion preparation you kept stealing glances at him. Er, well, his hair. You did need to brew the potion, but you'd be damned if you left this lesson without correcting his curls.

"Have I got something on my face?" Mattheo jested. You laughed lightly, shaking your head before picking up the last of the ingredients to toss them in the cauldron.

Mattheo began to sir, the color of the potion changing correctly with what you both were doing. And you were staring again. You knew it. You knew he could feel it because he was grinning once more.

"Can I just.." you pointed somewhat shyly at his head. Mattheo cocked his head slightly, giving a small nod.

You let out a sigh of relief, lifting your hands and quickly threading your fingers between curls and to his scalp. As you fluff his hair, nails scratching as his scalp slightly, Mattheo's eyes almost involuntarily roll.

"Merlin's fucking beard, that feels good," Mattheo praises as you finally take your hands away from his head. He shakes his head back and forth, his curls flopping this way and that before standing still again, giving you a big smile, "Better?"

"Godric, yes," you breathe, "I'm sorry, Matty. The flatness was killing me." Mattheo bit his lip to stifle a laugh, "Oh yeah? Tell me how you really feel, babe."

You gave a playful shove to his shoulder, "You really should pay attention to your hair more. It's one of your best features. But Enzo did just get that new haircut and might I say..." you gave an exaggerated sigh and fanned your face with your hand.

"You saying Enzo's hair looks better than mine?" Mattheo laid a hand on his chest, mocking offense. You shrugged, grin continuously growing.

Mattheo gasped at your lack of response, squeezing your side playfully. You giggled, pushing his hands away, "Okay, okay. I'm just saying you need to take care of those curls or one hot guy haircut is gonna make you fall down the ranks."

Mattheo shook his head, his now lively curls bouncing as he did. "Listen, if you ever. And I mean ever see my curls dead again, I don't care what I'm doing, you stop me and fix them. Preferably with the head scratches like you just did."

There was no thought needed, no extra considerations, before your immediate response, "Deal."

[reiding-writing]

For the Christmas fic, how about bau!reader never celebrated Christmas properly cause she had like bad parents so Spencer decides to change that with the help of the team

RESTORATION — SPENCER REID!

you’re not a big fan of christmas. spencer enlists the help of the team to try and restore your festive spirit.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — watch someone who doesn’t like Christmas, write about a group of people who do like christmas :)

You’re not sure how it happened, but suddenly, Christmas is everywhere.

Twinkling lights hang from every corner of the bullpen. Garlands wrap themselves around the stair railings like ivy. A Christmas tree towers near the kitchenette, its branches heavy with ornaments you suspect Morgan and Garcia argued over before agreeing on a theme. The air smells faintly of pine, cinnamon, and coffee, a warm combination that feels almost too comforting. Too safe.

You try not to let it bother you.

You never understood the hype around Christmas. Every year, you watched the world transform into a wonderland of twinkling lights and festivity, but for you, it was just another day. Another reminder of what you never had.

While other kids were unwrapping presents under the tree, you sat in your cold, quiet room, the sounds of your parents’ arguments drowning out the holiday cheer. Christmas wasn’t a celebration in your house—it was a chore, a duty, something to get through without breaking.

Even now, as an adult, you treat the holiday like it’s just another box to check. The gifts you give are practical and impersonal, and the ones you receive feel more like obligations than thoughtful gestures. You avoid the parties, the caroling, the incessant cheer. It’s easier that way.

At least, it was.

The BAU changed everything.

You weren’t prepared for how much they’d come to mean to you. They weren’t just colleagues; they were family in a way you’d never truly known. And Spencer… Spencer Reid is something else entirely. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment your feelings for him shifted, but now they’re impossible to ignore. Every shy smile, every ramble about quantum physics, every thoughtful gesture—it all leaves you wondering how you got so lucky to have someone like him in your corner.

Still, when he asks you about your Christmas plans during lunch one day, your walls go up.

“Oh, you know,” you say casually, taking a sip of your coffee. “Probably just a quiet night at home.”

Spencer frowns, his brow furrowing in that endearing way that tells you he’s already analysing your words. “You’re not a Christmas person?”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent. “Not really. Christmas wasn’t… something my parents did growing up,”

That’s the understatement of the century, but you don’t elaborate. Spencer’s gaze lingers on you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Well,” he says slowly, “maybe it’s something we can work on,”

You wave him off with a chuckle, but the idea takes root in his mind anyway.

—

A week later, you’re finishing up paperwork when Spencer approaches your desk, his face lit up with excitement.

“Are you free on Christmas Eve?” he asks, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You blink, caught off guard. “I guess so? Why?”

He grins, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. “It’s a surprise. Just… trust me?”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

—

When Christmas Eve arrives, you find yourself in front of Spencer’s apartment, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling in your chest. You’re not sure what to expect, but the last thing you anticipate is the sight that greets you when he opens the door.

“Surprise!”

The entire team is there, the living room transformed into a Christmas wonderland. There’s a fake tree in the corner, its branches laden with ornaments and lights. Garland and tinsel drape over every surface, and the scent of cinnamon and pine fills the air.

Hotch is standing by the fireplace, looking uncharacteristically relaxed with a drink in hand, JJ and Will are helping Henry hang a candy cane on the tree, Garcia flits around in a sequinned Santa hat, arranging plates of cookies and snacks, and even Rossi is there, holding a glass of wine and smirking like he knows exactly how overwhelmed you’re feeling.

And then there’s Spencer, standing in front of you with that nervous, hopeful look that makes your heart ache.

“You did this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “We did. You’ve never had a proper Christmas, and we thought it was time to change that.”

You look around, your chest tightening as the weight of their thoughtfulness sinks in. For a moment, you can’t speak.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” you finally manage, though your voice trembles.

“We wanted to,” JJ says, stepping over to hug you. “You’re family, and family deserves to be celebrated.”

The word family hits you like a freight train.

—

The night unfolds like something out of a movie.

You start with decorating gingerbread houses, a task that quickly descends into chaos when Garcia insists on bedazzling her roof with edible glitter. Morgan competes with Henry to see who can build the tallest chimney, while Rossi critiques everyone’s technique like it’s a cooking competition.

Spencer sticks close to you, guiding you through the process with his usual patience and a surprising knack for icing details. At one point, he accidentally smudges frosting on his nose, and the way he blushes when you laugh makes your stomach flutter.

Next comes dinner, a feast that Rossi and JJ clearly poured their hearts into. You sit between Spencer and Garcia, listening to Rossi’s stories and laughing until your cheeks hurt. Every now and then, you catch Spencer sneaking glances at you, his expression soft and fond in a way that makes you feel seen in a way you’re not used to.

Afterward, Garcia insists on a gift exchange. You’re hesitant at first, but when you open your gift from her—a beautifully wrapped box of handmade bookmarks featuring your favorite literary quotes—you can’t help but smile.

“How did you…?”

“I have my ways,” she says with a wink.

You’re equally stunned when Spencer hands you a small, carefully wrapped package. Inside is an antique copy of *Pride and Prejudice*, its leather cover worn but lovingly preserved.

“Spencer,” you whisper, running your fingers over the embossed title. “This is… it’s perfect.”

He shrugs, looking almost shy. “I remember you mentioned it was your favorite. I thought it deserved a spot in your collection.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to cry.

—

The night ends with everyone gathered around the fireplace, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jack preforms his reading of The Night Before Christmas.

You sit beside Spencer on the couch, his arm brushing against yours as he leans in to whisper little facts about the poem’s history. Normally, you’d roll your eyes at his need to share trivia, but tonight, it feels comforting. Familiar.

When the others start to leave, bidding you Merry Christmas with hugs and warm smiles, you linger by the door, hesitant to let the night end.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, his voice soft.

You nod, but the lump in your throat betrays you. “I just… I don’t know how to thank you for this. All of you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” he says, his gaze steady. “You deserve it.”

The words are simple, but they cut through you in a way you don’t expect. Before you can second-guess yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but then he relaxes, his arms coming up to hold you in return.

His cheek smushes lovingly against the top of your head, and it’s only once he catches the glimpse of white and green above the doorway that he pulls away.

Mistletoe. How cliché.

Spencer lets out a breath of a laugh as you follow his gaze with curious eyes, cheeks warming at the fluster on your face.

“Garcia must’ve put that there…”

You press your lips together between your teeth, a wave of heat rising to the tips of your ears as you glance back in Spencer’s direction.

But you’re not nervous. It’s almost domestic, the soft crackle of the dying fire across the room, the way Spencer’s arms linger innocently at your waist.

You cup Spencer’s cheek to bring it to your face, lips pressing deftly against the corner of his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer,” you whisper like you’ve run out of oxygen.

He smiles with his whole face, his voice warm and full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,”

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕖𝕟

last christmas, i gave you my heart

ex!joe x fem!reader

note: (& kinda summary) SURPRISE! i said cindy lou didn’t have a part two but…. how could i spoil it for you? here’s what happened after the instagram dm, from joe’s perspective.

word count: 1.3k.

warnings: more sadness, hurt feelings, joe isn’t really answering an ass but he has poor decision making skills… etc. this fic is sfw but minors please do not interact with my page.

song inspo: cindy lou who by sabrina carpenter and lips of an angel by hinder.

joe didn’t really care about likes or comments on instagram.

he didn’t care to post too much either, regardless of what it was, because he preferred staying private and in his own lane. sure, he posted brand deals on there, the occasional game day fit or victory post, but he wasn’t one to flaunt a relationship around… not until today.

the christmas eve festivities were in full swing, and joe and his new girlfriend, along with his parents, were spending the evening together. they’d been to dinner, stopped by a few local places and eventually ended up at a rec center to watch a local christmas play.

when it was over they decided to take photos out in the hall, where the archway was decorated to the nines and the lighting was absolutely perfect for those warm, christmas-y shots.

joe and his girlfriend posed together alone, and then with his parents, and then they each took photos alone. once the photos were sent to him, he vetted through them carefully, selecting which ones he should post.

in his mind, he knew what he was doing was wrong… but in his heart, he wanted to know if you still cared. he wondered what you were up to this christmas. he assumed home with your family, maybe out with your sister. that’s something he knew you’d missed doing since you’d spent the last few christmases with him. he hoped you were able to go with her, that your holiday still felt special.

it didn’t. he didn’t know you didn’t go home to your family, that you were sat on your couch ready to drown in your wine glass and cry over a heart-breaking christmas movie. he didn’t know you were all alone there with him on your mind.

but in a sick, sick way… he also hoped that you were thinking of him, too.

joe posted the photos to his instagram with no caption, but he made sure to tag his girl. he slid his phone into his back pocket before joining back in the conversation she was having with his parents. his mind lingered on you.

joe wasn’t a cheater - nor would he ever be. he really enjoyed having his new girl around, and he didn’t know if he was in love yet, but he knew she felt like she could be right for him.

he sat with his thoughts for another hour before he checked his phone again. in the time since he posted the photos he laughed and talked with his company, holding his girlfriend’s hand and smoothing his thumb over her palm soothingly.

when he slid his phone from his back pocket and opened instagram, he had a multitude of notifications. family, fans friends.

but he looked at the likes anyway. it was wrong of him, toxic of him to hope you’d seen it… but you had. and you liked it. his chest began to feel tight.

why did he do that to you?

when you and joe broke up, it was all him. he knew it, you knew it. you were still completely in love with him. it made him physically sick to think about.

joe’s issue was… he still loved you too.

around the time of your break-up, things were incredibly tense. he was injured, he was in the roughest mental place he’d ever been in, and despite your valiant efforts to help him work through it, all he ever did was push you away. he continued to treat you poorly out of anger, and out of love you stuck by him.

he should have thanked you for that.

joe didn’t think he was falling out of love with you per se, but he wanted a break. he wanted space to find himself again, and though it completely broke you, you agreed. you would never force yourself into his life, not if he didn’t want you there.

he knew you thought you were the problem, and no matter how much he tried to explain you weren’t, you didn’t listen. he knew his actions weren’t conveying that he loved you, and that’s what forced the wedge between you… so when you split, there was never a reconciliation.

joe never reached out to you because he was afraid you’d reject him after all the pain he put you through. you didn’t reach out to him because you were convinced he was done with you, that he didn’t love you anymore.

when he met his new girl he was in a better place, and she was sweet. she was kind, beautiful, she had a heart of gold. she took his breath away, he hadn’t felt that in a while.

they started seeing each other casually before diving in head first, and he knew she loved him. he was getting there. but he still needed to let you go. the air in the room was getting hot, and although it felt like he’d been on his phone for an eternity, it was just a few minutes.

the hallway was full now, people who were in the play and family friends gathered around. his parents were chatting with the neighbors, his girlfriend was talking to one of the stars of the play. he looked around his periphery to make sure nobody could see him click your profile, and quickly he tapped your message button and typed something out.

joeyb_9: merry christmas, y/n.

he pressed send. his heart was hammering against his chest. his parents and his girl didn’t seem to notice. he didn’t expect you to answer so quickly. his breathing felt shaky as he saw you typing.

y/n: merry christmas, joe. i’m so happy for you.

the room began to spin. joe was getting hot. why why why. why did he do this?

he made a quick impulsive decision, against his better judgement. the voice in his head told him to stop, don’t do this. but his heart had to know. he excused himself quickly, claiming he had to make a work call.

he stepped outside of the rec center, the cool december air felt hot on his newly flushed skin. he closed the instagram app, clicking on the phone app and dialing your number. ring ring ring.

you answered.

“um… joe?” you asked. your voice sounded groggy, like you’d just fallen asleep.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i called.” he admitted. he ran his hand over his face.

“are you— is everything okay?”

“it’s fine. i’m… fuck. i’m sorry. i hope you’re having a good holiday. i guess it just feels weird not to be with you.” he doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. in the building behind him, his girlfriend is laughing with his parents. she’s having a lovely holiday. and joe’s outside, on the phone with his ex.

“it is weird. but it seemed like you were having a good night based on your post. go back to whatever you were doing, please. i can’t do this.” he heard your voice crack. he imagined your face. he knew your hand was probably clamped over your mouth, he heard you start to cry.

“fuck, y/n. i’m so sorry.” he says. he feels like he’s going to cry too.

“don’t be upset for me, joey. you’ve got a beautiful girl in there. i saw the love in your eyes in those photos. don’t fumble this one, okay 9?” you told him through tears. hearing you call him that felt like a slap right across the cheek. he missed what you used to have.

he felt sickly. he knew he was probably as white as a ghost. you were right… but he needed the closure.

“thank you, y/n. i hope you’re doing well… and uh, it was good to hear your voice.” he said, scratching at the back of his head lightly.

“yours too, joe.” you said, and then you hung up. he heard the door to the rec center open and turned around, coming face to face with his girlfriend.

“you alright?” she asked, coming down the short steps to caress his cheek. “i’m okay.” he said. he put on a smile and let her link their arms before he walked back inside with her, leaving the last of his feelings for you outside in the freezing winter air. he was thankful that you let him go, and now he could finally let you go too.

all photos and dividers used are not mine. cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

[mariasont]

hi love 🫶🏻 could you write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's "renegade"? there is one fic like that but spencer is as the one taylor sings about there and i was thinking you could maybe do the opposite where reader is the one who this song is about? idk if my explanation makes sense 😭 anyway, have a nice day!!

Messy - S.R

a/n: okay i wasn't sure if this is exactly what you wanted but i hope i did it justice and im so thankful you sent me this request <3 im so sorry it took soooo long for me to get to it, ilysm i hope you're having the best day

also this one is so near and dear to my heart like i choked myself up writing this hahahah so i hope you all enjoy

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: depression, unhealthy coping methods, hopeful ending <3

wc: 1.5k

The clock on the wall ticked quietly, a soft sound that somehow seemed louder in the silence of the apartment. The hour hand had long since crept past midnight, but you stayed where you were--curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, a forgotten book spread open in your lap. This is where you had been for an amount of time that you were embarrassed to admit.

The words on the page blurred together, your eyes tracing the same sentence for the fifth time. You weren't really reading. Not anymore.

The faint sound of Spencer's footsteps broke the quiet as he appeared out of the darkened hallway. You didn't need to look up to know he was watching you, a concerned crease in his brow and sleep tousling his hair. You could feel his gaze--soft, searching and damningly knowing.

"You're still awake." It wasn't a question.

You shifted, turning the page like you were engrossed in the story, even though you hadn't absorbed a word. When you glanced up at him, you shot him a smile--a careful, practiced one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"Couldn't sleep."

Spencer didn't say anything right away, but you could hear him moving closer, the weight of his steps seeming hesitant--like he wasn't sure whether you wanted company or space.

You weren't sure either.

The thought of him sitting next to you wrapped around your lungs like a too-tight band, the way it always did when someone got too close. And yet, the thought of him staying away constricted something deeper, something you weren't sure you could name.

Finally, the corner of the couch dipped as he sat beside you, close enough for the invisible wall you had built to feel less solid. It felt like something similar to sunlight filtering through a curtain's tear.

"What's on your mind?"

You blinked, fingers picking at the worn edges of the book's pages as if they might pull apart and reveal something you weren't able to put into words.

"Nothing." You said it too quickly. Brittle. Then, because you could feel his eyes on you--seeing through you--you added, "It's silly, really. Just overthinking.

You tried to make it sound dismissive, punctuating it with a small laugh that you were sure came out quiet and hollow. "You don't need to worry about me, Spence. I'm fine."

"Fine," he repeated softly, like the word tasted wrong on his tongue.

His voice was so gentle, but you could feel every last bit of unspoken concern wrapped inside it, the way it always was when you said you were fine. You hated that--hated that he could see through the cracks you worked so hard to hide. You wanted to tell him it was better this way, safer for both of you. You didn't want to scare him or worse drag him into the parts of yourself that felt sharp and broken.

You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, cataloging your body language, the way your smile faltered, the way you fidgeted with the book like you needed to keep your hands busy to avoid cracking open.

Spencer tilted his head, continuing to study you, but he didn't call you out on the lie. He never did--not directly. Instead, he adjusted his posture, sinking further into the couch like he intended to stay.

"What are you reading?" He nodded towards the book in your lap.

You glanced at the cover and felt the heat creep up your neck. 

"Oh, um... something I grabbed off the shelf earlier." You flipped it shut, careful not to let him see how little progress you'd actually made. "It's good. Just... taking my time with it."

It was such a small thing to lie about, but you were clinging to any shred of normalcy. You didn't want him to see this version of you--the one who stared blankly at pages, lost in spirals you couldn't quite explain.

"That's okay, you know," Spencer said quietly. "Taking your time."

You knew he wasn't talking about the book, not really. Before you could deflect, his hand moved gently across the space between you, his fingertips brushing up and down the length of your arm.

The touch was so soft--barely there--but it distracted you. You exhaled, a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, and let your eyes flutter shut for just a moment. It had been so long since you let yourself be in his presence, let yourself lean into him without pulling away.

“Did you know that depression physically changes the brain,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice low and conversational, like he was talking about a science fact and not you. “It affects the hippocampus, the amygdala—the areas responsible for regulating memory, emotion, and stress.”

You swallowed, opening your eyes again, fingers still fussing with the book. “Spence…”

He continued, his tone gentle, as though he were easing you into the truth. "The hippocampus actually shrinks during prolonged depression. That's the part of the brain responsible for processing memories, for distinguishing between what's important and what's not. That's why it feels so hard to concentrate. Why sometimes everything feels... too much, even the little things."

You stilled under his touch, gaze focused on the closed book. The words he was saying were clinical, sure, but the way he was saying it made your heart clench.

"And the amygdala?" he continued. "It's the emotional center of the brain. In people with depression, it becomes overactive, and the body starts reacting to stress like it's always in fight-or-flight mode. Even when there's no threat. Even when you're safe."

Spencer paused, letting the words sink in, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines down your arm. You could feel him watching you, but you couldn't look at him yet. You weren't sure you wanted him to see the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not trying to analyze you,” he added quickly. “I know it probably sounds like that. But I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that it's not all in your head."

He hesitated, then nudged you gently, his hand squeezing your arm as if to reinforce his words. "This isn't some character flaw or something you've invented. Your brain--your body--feels this, physically. It's real."

You blinked, and the first tear fell. His words cracked something inside you--not because they hurt, but because you hadn't realized how badly you needed to hear them.

"It's like..." Spencer searched for the right words, brow furrowing. "It's like being stuck in a room with a broken thermostat. You're freezing, and everyone else is telling you it's warm because they can't feel what you feel. But just because they can't see it doesn't mean it isn't happening. You're not imagining the cold."

"You're not a problem that needs solving," he murmured. "You're not too much. You're enough, exactly as you are."

Something snapped in your chest--sharp, small, and unexpected.

"I'm not trying to save you," Spencer continued, like he could sense the thought forming on your tongue. "I just... I want you to let me stand beside you. Even if it's messy. Even if it's hard."

You sniffled, swiping quickly at the tear trailing down your cheek, and glanced up at him with a small, wobbly smile. 

"Even if it's messy?" Your voice trembled slightly, but the hint of a laugh broke through--soft and fragile, like glass. "You hate messes."

Spencer's lips quirked into a smile, and for a moment, the tension in the room shifted. The air felt a little lighter.

"That's true," he admitted. "But I'll make an exception. For you."

You let out a watery laugh, the sound catching somewhere in your throat, and it startled you--how good it felt to laugh, even through tears. Spencer smiled wider, like seeing that microscopic spark of light in you was enough.

He shifted closer than, his hand sliding from your arm to cradle your cheek, his touch soft and careful, as though he were afraid you might pull away. "Even if it's messy."

And then he kissed you--soft and slow, his lips brushing yours with infinite gentleness, as though he were trying to tell you everything he couldn't express aloud. For a heartbeat, you tensed. The instinct to pull back, to close yourself off, flared up like it always did. But Spencer didn't push; he simply stayed, giving you a choice.

So you let yourself lean into him.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you kissed him back, the faint taste of salt lingering between you where tears still clung to your lips. His hand stayed against your cheek. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you finally let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

"Do you want to go to bed?"

You glanced at the book still resting on your lap. The Bell Jar. Your hand hovered over the book's spine, the instinct to cling to it, but you let your hand fall away.

"Yeah," you said softly. 

The book stayed on the couch, closed, forgotten as you rose from the couch and let him guide you toward the bedroom.

And maybe, just maybe, the glass was beginning to crack.

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[justaragdollysblog]

The Sauce That Makes You Stupid

wanted to do a fic about a concept i’ve seen a few people talking about! this fic will contain mentions of drugs and dependencies

if you ever need assistance w something like this or someone to talk to, (800) -222-122 is a hotline! pls stay safe <33

TW: Drug Dependency, Anxiety, Mentions of tripping, Hurt/comfort

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4 days, 96 hours, 30 minutes and 20 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since the fast food adventure.

That’s how long since Ragatha got the sauce in her eye. How long since she rubbed it in.

She hadn’t been able to relax since.

Sure, relaxation was hardly common in the circus anyways. There was always a slight urgency and alertness, even in the late hours of the night. No one really truly was safe.

But, after the effects wore off, Ragatha told herself it was a one time thing. No big deal. She’d move on, and the whole experience would fade to the back of her mind like all the rest of them.

Then why couldn’t she stop thinking about the sauce?

She was currently in her coquette bedroom, fiddling with her red yarn locks. Her foot was tapping against the floor quietly. She needed to stay moving; but she had no idea why.

Her mind drifted as she recalled the adventure. It was all hazy after that mannequin demanded the burger. The sauce. The sauce that makes you stupid. The sauce that makes you feel like you’re made of electricity when it’s gone.

Ragatha’s eye then drifted to her closet. Truthfully, it wasn’t gone. She had smuggled a bottle in, opting to explain it as ‘horseradish sauce’ to Caine. He didn’t see a problem with it.

She eyed the handle. No, she couldn’t think like that. There was no way she’d look at the stuff again. She was mean to her friends and basically useless on it.

No way. Nope.

Ragatha moved before her mind could catch up with her. She walked over to her closet, and opened the doors. Behind a few dresses sits the bottle.

Just a little, then she’d be done. Just a little bit and she’d never do it again. She shakily reached out for the bottle, holding it as she stared at it.

She raised the bottle over her head, aiming for her eye. She was about to apply pressure, when-

“Ragatha!”

She yelped in surprise and scrambled to try and hide the sauce. The voice belonged to Pomni, who was standing in the doorway with a nervous and concerned expression.

“Pomni! What a surprise! What are you doing here?” Ragatha spoke a little too quickly and a little too frantically. Some of her red yarn hair was sticking out in places.

Pomni eyed her worriedly. “Um, the theme’s about to start. Have you…slept at all?” She asked, uncomfortably shifting her position.

Ragatha blinked. It was already theme time? “Oh, I’m fine! Right as rain, Poms. Just didn’t sleep, you know how it is here!” She forced a smile.

Pomni didn’t miss how her hands seemed to grasp on to anything to fidget, and how her closet door was open. “Right…uh, why’s your closet open?”

Ragatha internally cursed herself for not closing it. “Oh! Just…getting ready for the day. Hard to get prepared without proper clothes!”

Pomni shakily nodded. She knew something had to be up. Ragatha was never this frantic and skittish. However, she surmised, it wouldn’t be solved right now. The gang was waiting and the theme wouldn’t complete without them.

“Well, I guess we better head out to the stage. Maybe we can try to hang out later after the adventure!” She suggested, managing a hopeful smile.

Ragatha hesitated, eyes darting to the closet and back quickly. She could feel something terrifying stitch itself in her threads. Something horrid.

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She headed out with her, closing the door behind them. She’d be okay. She didn’t even really need it.

She just had to wait until the evening.

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Hi guys! I wanted to try and tackle a different subject matter in this fic! i hope i did an okay job :)))

pls don’t hesitate to reach out if you’re struggling!

reblogs are appreciated! see you guys next time!

[luveline]

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight. 

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather. 

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either. 

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop. 

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death. 

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now. 

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often. 

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight. 

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever. 

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?) 

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends. 

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps. 

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you. 

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?” 

You close the distance. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.” 

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.” 

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.” 

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.” 

You’re pulled into a hug. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.” 

“Fine,” you say. 

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?” 

“I didn’t plan on being out long.” 

“No?” 

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say. 

“I’ll get you some.” 

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly. 

“Where are your glasses?” you ask. 

“I forgot them in the car.” 

“Where is the car?” 

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.” 

“Sci-fi.” 

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.” 

“How are we gonna find him?” 

“He’ll come back eventually.” 

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say. 

“It’s alright.” 

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?” 

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly. 

“I didn’t think about it.” 

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

“Is this a common occurrence?” 

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.” 

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.” 

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.” 

“I worry about you too,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks, stricken. 

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.” 

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.” 

“Well I liked you when you were soft.” 

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.” 

“James?” a voice calls. 

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands. 

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.” 

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him. 

Sirius digs his face into your neck. 

“Hey?” you ask quietly. 

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?” 

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?” 

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.” 

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.” 

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly. 

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?” 

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.” 

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says. 

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long. 

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.” 

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.” 

“You’re not horrible.” 

“I’m mean.” 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.” 

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair. 

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.” 

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.” 

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” 

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry. 

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask. 

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.” 

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.” 

You let him hug you. “Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?” 

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say. 

“Yeah.” 

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards. 

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.” 

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.” 

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.” 

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true. 

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.” 

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.” 

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake. 

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down. 

“Fine.” 

“Didn’t eat much today?” 

“No.” 

“Have the juice, at least.” 

You take the glass. 

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. 

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.” 

“It’s what I should say.” 

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?” 

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches. 

“Are you eating properly?” he asks. 

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.” 

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.” 

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand. 

“This okay?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. 

“Not anymore.” 

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it? 

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you. 

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug. 

“What kind did you want to hear?” 

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach. 

“I can’t remember anything right.” 

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks. 

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends. 

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.” 

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?” 

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.” 

He nods. 

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.” 

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.” 

“Didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Me neither,” Remus croaks. 

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly. 

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…” 

“Love you?” Sirius asks. 

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.” 

“Not selfish.” 

“It was, though.” 

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.” 

“Not really.” 

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble. 

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing. 

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.” 

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this. 

“I love you, too.” 

He makes another face. Good enough, it says. 

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper. 

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.” 

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles. 

You hug him quickly before you leave. 

[supernova-stardust]

A Habit to Kick (The Age-Old Curse)

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 after the break wip | rated M | jegulus | wolfstar | rosekiller | total word count: 19,273 full fic also on ao3

A few weeks ago, Regulus Black jumped off a bridge. It's not that he really wanted to die, but he didn't really want to live either. He didn't think anyone would care one way or another, if he's honest. Now he's stuck learning how to live.

James Potter was used to seeing Reg every day at the cafe he worked in, until one day he stopped coming in. When he finally sees the guy he's been crushing on come back into the cafe, he knew he had to take his chance at asking him out on a date.

***This fic deals with heavy themes of depression, lack of a will to live, and suicide, but will have a happy ending***

Regulus threw himself onto his bed and let out a heavy groan. He thought that nothing his brother did could surprise him anymore, but here he was, shocked. Sirius hadn't acted this immature since they both lived at home with their parents and Regulus had always assumed that it was in act of defiance more than anything else. He couldn't help but wonder what had triggered his brother to be so over-protective when he had been the one encouraging him to go on the date in the first place. He had to know what going on a date meant, right?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the text thread with James, staring at the glaringly bright screen in contemplation. He started typing out a few messages before promptly deleting each one.

sorry about my bother

you're a great kisser

hey i had a nice time, sorry my brother ruined it

funny story, a few weeks ago i jumped off a bridge because i was so desperately lonely that it felt better than living with the fear of being forever alone, anyway that's why my brother is a fucking menace to society right now

He continued to stare at the open thread, wondering what he could even say, when a text from James popped up on the screen.

[James]: hey, i had an amazing time with you. i'd love to go on another date, is later this week too soon? i really want to see you again.

Regulus fumbled his phone from shock and then immediately began spiraling. Had James watched as Regulus typed and typed and typed, never sending a message of his own? Of course having the thread open, James would have seen that Regulus had read the text immediately. He quickly typed a reply.

[Regulus]: i would love that, my treat like we talked about. how's friday? [James]: friday's perfect, you plan and let me know details, but i'll plan to pick you up since you don't have a car? [Regulus]: sounds perfect, can't wait

James reacted to his message with a heart almost immediately and he felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Then, another text came through and Regulus nearly screamed. He probably would have if his brother and Remus weren't in his apartment to judge him.

[James]: can't wait to kiss you again [Regulus]: you have no idea how pissed i am at my brother for interrupting us [James]: i have some idea *exhaling emoji*

Regulus laughed, imaging James' face making the same expression. He heard a soft knock at his door and locked his phone as he placed it on his nightstand. "Go away, Sirius."

Sirius opened the door anyway, a sheepish look painted on his face. "Look, I know you don't want to see me right now—"

"You're right, I don't. Leave."

"I want to explain myself. Please?"

"I don't want to listen right now. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm less pissed."

"Yeah, sure, I mean… I wanna believe that. I do. Except we both know that you don't get less pissed. You just ruminate."

"Let me ruminate, Sirius."

"Listen—"

"No, fuck off." Regulus grabbed a porcelain trinket tray from his bedside table and dumped the contents onto the surface before holding the tray up in his hand. "I will throw this at your head if you don't fuck off right now."

Sirius held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." He left the room, closing the door gently behind him. As Regulus laid back, he overheard his brother and Remus talking in hushed tones in the hallway, but he wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

He appreciated both of them, he really did. He would even go so far as to admit to himself—never to Sirius—that they were a huge reason why he decided to follow through on all of the treatment he's been participating in. Sure, a huge lesson in therapy was that he needed to do it for himself, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about himself enough to get better right now. He did, however, care about Sirius. He cared about Remus. Maybe it was pathetic to consider his only reason for carrying on to be his brother and his brother's boyfriend, but it was the truth.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

***

In the morning, Regulus mindlessly went through his routine before going to the café, driven solely by the motivation to see James. As he hurried through the door, he immediately deflated upon seeing his least favorite barista behind the counter instead. Peter.

It wasn't that Peter was unpleasant, in fact the problem very well might have been that he was too pleasant. He was boisterous and what he lacked in ability, he made up for in friendly discussion and remembering every detail about each person who came through the door. He may have routinely burned himself with steamed milk, but he always had a laugh at himself about it. Regulus found him to be absolutely irritating.

"Want anything other than your black coffee, Reg?"

"No, thank you." Regulus replied curtly as he took out his cash.

"You sure? I know you don't usually grab anything to eat, but the almond croissants are especially good today." Peter gave him a smile that was far too cheerful for the early hour as he poured the cup of coffee.

"I'm good," Regulus deadpanned. He held out the cash for his coffee in a polite attempt to end the conversation, but when Peter placed the coffee on the counter, he reached into the pastry case. He placed an almond croissant on a plate and set it on the counter next to the coffee and Regulus gaped in shock.

"On the house," Peter said cheerfully. "Have a great day!"

When Peter didn't take the cash in Regulus' outstretched hand he placed it on the counter and picked up the coffee and the croissant. He stared at the abomination of a pastry the entire time he walked towards the back of the café. Placing his things down on the table and sitting down, he continued to glare at the croissant. It wasn't that he didn't like croissants—he did, very much so—but almond? Who on earth had thought to put the least impressive nut inside something so decadent as a croissant?

He sipped his coffee—it tasted terrible—and decided that today was going to be awful.

***

This was the first time Regulus had participated in group therapy that wasn't mandated by the hospital as a part of his treatment. Participated was a strong word, really. He sat in a metal folding chair and disassociated as everyone around him shared their traumatic backstory, a valid reason for their attempts at ending it all.

He couldn't help but to feel inadequate. First, his reasons for jumping off a bridge were trivial at best, and then he couldn't even kill himself properly.

None of his backstory was nearly as traumatic as anything he had heard here today. Here were people who had been terribly abused, neglected, and in one case quite literally tortured. Yet here he sat, among these people with real reasons to give up on living, with nothing but a little bit of religious trauma and loneliness to fuel his suicide attempt.

The group leader, Poppy, looked to him next. He had been so self-indulged in feeling sorry for himself that he hadn't heard what she said. "What?" Regulus asked, making it clear to the entire room that he hadn't been paying attention. He heard a few people laugh under their breath and he did his best to ignore them.

"Is there anything you'd like to share with us today, Regulus?" Poppy was kind, her voice gentle. He hair was pulled back in a way that would make many look severe and cruel, but on her it accentuated her softness. Everything from her face, to her voice, to her body was soft and sweet. She exuded a type of maternal energy that Regulus had longed to feel his entire life.

He resented her for it. It made him feel weak in the face of her questions.

"I— Well, I fired my therapist this week."

"Did something happen?" She asked, probing him to elaborate.

"Not really? I just…didn't like him." He answered like it was a question. When she didn't say anything he continued. "He was late to the appointment. He didn't bother to take the time to read my chart before our session. I just didn't feel like he cared, so I fired him."

"I've fired therapists before," a girl with platinum hair said in an airy voice. "The least they can do is be likeable. Awful of them to not be likeable, really."

"Pandora, we've talked about this. You can't villainize people because you don't like them. People are all individuals and not liking someone doesn't make them bad," Poppy admonished.

"Yes it does." Pandora answered so plainly that Regulus choked out a laugh.

Poppy leveled a reprimanding look towards Pandora before turning back to Regulus. "Have you found a new therapist then?"

"Uh…"

"Regulus, group therapy is a great tool to help in your recovery process, but one-on-one therapy is very important. Stay after for a few moments so I can give you a list of therapists who are taking new patients, okay?" Poppy said with no room for Regulus to argue.

Group therapy continued with Regulus staying silent throughout everyone else updating the group about their weeks and their goals. When Poppy asked Regulus what his goal for the week was, he said to find a new therapist, taking the easy way out so that he didn't have to think any further. He had been intending on it anyway, but now he was going to milk it for all that it was. As everyone got up to leave, Pandora gave him a smile and a wave before heading out with a skip in her step. Regulus followed Poppy to where she had left her belongings and she rifled through her bag to find the list of therapists she promised him.

"I try to keep this list up to date with therapists who are currently open for new patients and who would be able to see you soon, so you shouldn't need to call too many in order to get an appointment in the next week or so." Poppy pulled out the list and held it out to him. He hesitated for a moment before finally taking it in his hand and scanning it over.

"Do you know any of them personally?" He knew it was a bit of an invasive question, but Poppy was kind and if she knew any of these therapists herself, he hoped that her knowing them would be a bit of a filter in his search for the right therapist for him.

"I went to school with Sybil Trelawney. She's… Very kind. Different. She tends to be a bit outside of the box for most, but she means well. I find that sometimes it's refreshing to see things from her perspective though."

"Thanks," Regulus said and he meant it. "I'll give her office a call to make an appointment. I could do with a new perspective, I think."

"I hope it works out," Poppy said with a gentle smile as she grabbed her bag and followed him out the door.

When Regulus stepped outside, he saw Remus leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette and let out a groan. "I can walk home alone just fine, you know. It's only a fifteen minute walk."

Remus took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, avoiding looking at Regulus as he did. "I know, I'm not here to babysit you."

Regulus leaned against the wall and held out his hand in a silent request to share the cigarette Remus was smoking.

"I didn't know you smoked," Remus said.

"I thought you weren't babysitting."

"Fair enough." Remus handed him the cigarette and watched Regulus take a long drag. When Regulus exhaled without coughing, Remus took out another cigarette from his pack and lit it. Regulus raised an eyebrow but continued to smoke. "You clearly need it."

"I do," Regulus laughed, a hollow and humorless thing. "Why are you here then?"

"I wanted to talk about your brother."

"I'd really rather not."

"I know, but we all have to live together for the next week or so and I'd rather it be peaceful. I can't handle the stress."

Regulus took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the scars painting Remus' face as he mulled over his words. Life hadn't been kind to Remus—not when it came to the body he was forced to live in. Even at his young age, there were days where he struggled to get out of bed. Plagued by rheumatoid arthritis and lingering injuries from a childhood car accident, his joints would flare up in agony whenever the weather was particularly cold or when the stress was too heavy on his shoulders.

"You should quit smoking if you're so concerned with your health."

"Sure, and you should talk to your brother. We both have to do things we don't want to, I guess."

"Oh, come on." Regulus complained as he tilted his head back into the wall and stared at the overcast sky.

"You walked into that one, I'm afraid." Remus pushed himself off the wall and stubbed his cigarette out, pocketing the trash and giving Regulus a look that said let's go.

Regulus followed suit and the two of them walked towards his apartment in silent understanding. Neither of them were chatty or wanted to spill their guts out to one another, but they had always understood each other all the same.

"He didn't mean to ruin your date, you know." Remus said, breaking the silence when they were nearly home. "He just says shit sometimes, doesn't even think about it before it comes out of his mouth. I know you know what I mean, you grew up with him. He's mortifying sometimes. And protective. I know the impact overshadows his intentions, but he really does mean well. What you did—the whole jumping thing—it really fucked him up. He won't say it because he's trying not to make it about him, but it did. Fucked me up too, if we're having an honest moment here. I think you need to give him a little bit of grace to act childish right now. We're all coping the best we can."

"I'm not acting—"

"I'm not even gonna let you finish that sentence, you've been petulant and childish. You literally shoved him, Reg. And that's okay, we've been letting you act out. But you need to give Sirius the same grace, this happened to him too. He nearly lost his little brother and now he's doing the best he can to be strong and act like it didn't hurt so it's easier for you."

"Can we go back to unhealthy coping mechanisms? I want another cigarette."

"Nah, we just quit. Besides, we're home. I can't be seen as an enabler."

"We did not—Ugh, he's gonna smell it on us anyway." Regulus groaned as they walked up the walkway to his apartment. "Just one more, then I swear we can quit."

Remus rolled his eyes, but he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter anyway. "You're awful, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Regulus smirked, taking the cigarette from Remus' outstretched hand. He put it in his mouth and leaned into Remus' space as he lit the cigarette for him. "I can't help it though, I'm a byproduct of my upbringing. Just look at what a mess my brother is. Therapy can only do so much."

Remus laughed before lighting his own cigarette and taking a deep drag. "How was therapy anyway?"

"It was therapy? I don't know. It never seems to make much of a difference."

"You get out of it what you put in, you know." Remus shrugged. "Not saying that you're not putting in the effort, but you're not exactly known to be the most vulnerable guy around."

"I've already had terrible coffee, gone to therapy, been babysat by you, and now you want to give me more therapy?" Regulus inhaled his cigarette. "I'm gonna get a fucking migraine before I even talk to Sirius."

"Hey, I said I wasn't babysitting."

"Could have fooled me."

Remus chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. "Fair enough, c'mon." He walked away and flicked his finger between Regulus' brows. "Sirius was in a good mood when I left."

Regulus trudged up the steps behind Remus and they walked inside together. He shoved his hands into his pockets in search of something to do with his body. Talking to his brother wasn't something that he was exactly pleased about—Sirius wasn't known to admit when he was wrong, but then again, neither was Regulus. Growing up, they couldn't show any sign of weakness, and admitting they were wrong was a huge weakness that they couldn't risk. He was trying to be better, though. The two of them had made huge progress in the last few years in regards to their relationship, but they also hadn't had many opportunities to fight as they had. Something about living together brought out the worst in both of them.

"Hey," Sirius said from the couch in the living room. His voice sounded small and unsure. "How'd it go?"

Regulus wasn't sure if Sirius was talking to him or to Remus, but he answered anyway. "It was fine. I got a new recommendation for a therapist. Gonna call tomorrow, I'm too beat to do it today."

Sirius nodded. "Good, that's… Good. I'm glad you found someone new."

Regulus sat on the couch next to him and watched Remus walk past the living room into the kitchen to busy himself. Close, but not intruding. Just present enough to help diffuse the situation if the brothers blew up at one another.

"Look, I— I'm sorry I shoved you."

"It's fine, Reggie, I get it. I'm sorry I ruined your date."

Regulus scoffed. "You didn't ruin my date, asshole. I'm seeing him again on Friday."

"Oi, then why did you get so pissed?"

"I said you didn't ruin my date, I didn't say you didn't ruin the moment. Which was amazing, by the way—"

"I really don't want to hear about how great making out was from my baby brother," Sirius complained.

"Then you shouldn't have interrupted the moment." Regulus leaned back into the couch and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. "I really like him, you know. He's not just in it for the sex, I think he actually wants to get to know me."

Sirius pulled him in closer, hugging his body and resting his head on top of Regulus' dark curls. "That's good, Reggie. I'm glad, honest. I want you to be able to come to me and talk about it, just… Don't tell me about your sex life. You can talk to Remus about that. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So… are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"You stink like cigarettes," Sirius said solemnly into the quiet room. Regulus heard Remus choke on a laugh in the kitchen—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

"Don't ruin the moment. Remus and I quit today." Regulus said, including Remus in the whole concept of 'quitting' as punishment for babysitting and eavesdropping.

Sirius hummed. "Glad to hear it, he's needed to quit for a while."

***

"Oh, thank God it's you today," Regulus said as he walked into the café to find James working behind the counter.

"Well aren't you sweet," James said, laughing and pouring Regulus' coffee.

Digging through his bag for cash, Regulus snorted. "Peter is a fucking nightmare, James. Why does he still work here?"

"What, you're just happy to see me because Pete can't manage to brew a cup of coffee?" James gave him a mock pout and held his coffee just out of reach. "And here I thought I was special."

"You are, but Peter is so intolerable that he overshadows your greatness."

James stared at him in horror. "What did he do?"

"He made me take a croissant yesterday, wouldn't take no for an answer, and while I may have excused a plain croissant, he insisted that I try the almond one. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Almonds? In croissants? An abomination, truly. I swear he watched me the entire time I was here to see if I'd eat it." Regulus shook his head. "I didn't, for the record."

"What a terrible person he is," James said with mock outrage. "How dare he give out free croissants."

"Almond croissants, James."

"Yes, yes, you're right, love. Almond croissants. The horror."

Love. James said it so casually, Regulus was determined not to visibly react to the pet name, but internally he preened.

"Glad to know you're on my side on this." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I-I wanted to warn you that my friends are stopping by here today to meet up. They… might be insufferable."

"Your friends? Evan and Barty?"

Regulus nodded. "We haven't touched base in person in a bit and since this is the only place I go to besides my apartment and therapy these days, they're trapping me into hanging out. I can't break my routines and they know it." He paused, realizing too late how much he had just divulged to James in that moment. What was it about him that made Regulus feel as though he could say anything that came to mind?

"I think that's good of them," James said.

"Good of— Huh?" Regulus was speechless.

"Yeah, I mean, we all want to be seen, right? Seems like they see you for who you are and work with you."

What was with this guy?

"How are you so fucking perfect all the time?"

"I-I'm not, but I have done a lot of therapy myself. Teaches you things, y'know?"

"Yeah," Regulus said softly. "I suppose it does." He grabbed his coffee from the counter and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"I'm not, but I'll see you tomorrow night? What time should I pick you up?"

"Let's shoot for 6, but I might be a little anxious and take a few minutes longer. Just… text me when you're there this time? I'll come out. I don't really want to have my brother ruin another date for us already."

"Can't wait." James gave him a soft smile. A blush dusted his cheeks and Regulus couldn't help but stare for an extra moment before turning away to allow James to continue his work.

Regulus settled into his usual booth, pulling his headphones on and placing his laptop and coffee on the table in front of him. He opened the outline of his novel and stared at the screen, hoping that a revelation to the plot would come to him. It didn't, of course, but staring at the screen while sipping coffee was a necessary component to writing a novel.

After working for a while, he glanced up to see Evan and Barty enter the café hand in hand and waved at them. Evan waved back as Barty walked up to the counter. Regulus' hearing was still impaired by his noise-canceling headphones, but very quickly he could tell that Barty was being a menace. He pulled his headphones off and pushed his way out of the booth towards his friends.

Evan immediately pulled him into a hug, which was… strange. They weren't huggers. In fact, he couldn't remember ever hugging Evan when he was sober.

"Uh, hi?" Regulus tried to pull away, but Evan just pulled him in tighter.

"I need you to promise not to kill Bee," Evan said under his breath.

"Sure."

"He's hitting on James."

"I take it back, he's dead."

"Reg, you promised."

"I lied."

Evan locked his arms around Regulus and spun them around so he was facing Barty. "Bee, I can't hold him back any longer, abort mission."

James and Barty laughed in unison and it immediately soothed Regulus' frayed nerves. He was worried that his friends were going to be too much. He knew that they were loud, silly, and overall a lot to handle. Most people were surprised by the fact that Regulus was a part of their group, but those people didn't know any of the trio well enough to know how perfectly they all fit together. Three completely different people perfectly designed to balance each other out.

"Aw, Reg, are you jealous?" Barty teased. He came up to where Evan was still hugging Regulus tightly and wrapped his arms around both of them, sandwiching Regulus between them. He planted a kiss on Evan's lips and then on the top of Regulus' head. "You have nothing to fear, James rejected me. Can you believe it?"

"Well, now that I know the three of you are that close," James said suggestively.

"Now you've done it," Regulus said.

"Done what?" James asked.

"Barty isn't gonna rest until he's gotten you into bed with us now," Evan sighed. "He practically begs Reg for a blowjob at every opportunity."

"Speaking of—"

"No." Evan and Regulus said in unison.

Regulus looked up to James in an attempt to gauge his comfort level. After their conversations around sex and dating, Regulus was nervous that Barty's forwardness and constant flirting would be abrasive, but James' eyes were crinkled with laughter and his expression was open. He wriggled his way out of his friend's embrace and glared at the two of them. "Can't you act normal for five minutes? At least long enough to properly greet someone?"

Barty and Evan adjusted themselves so that Barty had his arm slung over Evan's shoulder and Evan nestled himself into the crook of Barty's body. They couldn't help but to touch each other at every possible moment they were together. Two halves of a whole, with just enough space for Regulus and their mildly codependent queer platonic relationship.

"What's normal, Reg?" Evan asked. "Don't tell me you're getting boring in your old age. You used to be the wildest of us all."

James watched them carefully as he worked on making their coffees, silently observing and absorbing every detail that the three of them revealed.

"I was not," Regulus gaped. "Don't make shit up just to embarrass me in front of James."

"No, he's right," Barty said. "I might have always been the one that people expected to be crazy, but you're the one who always encouraged me and you can't even deny it."

"How crazy are we talking here?" James asked as he placed their coffees down on the counter in front of them. "Threesomes crazy or passing out from drinking crazy? Drugs?"

"Yes," Evan and Barty said in unison. Regulus had the fleeting thought that maybe he should have tried harder to kill himself—at least then he wouldn't be stuck in this conversation right now.

James laughed. He was expecting to be judged, but instead James said something that surprised them all. "I've been there too, I just wouldn't expect it from Reg—He's so quiet and unassuming."

"Not once he's had a few shots," Evan teased.

Regulus' eyes widened in shock, ignoring Evan in favor of finding out anything new he could from James' past. "You told me—"

"That doesn't mean that I've been a virtuous priest my entire life, Reg."

"I like him," Barty said with a maniacal grin plastered on his face.

"We know," Evan smirked. "Let's go sit, yeah?" He moved to grab his coffee. "Thanks, James. It was great to meet you. Let's all get together sometime when you're not working and you can tell us all about your party days."

"Sounds great, it was nice meeting you guys too."

"Bye James," Barty sing-songed. "I'll miss you."

Regulus smacked Barty upside the back of his head as they walked together towards his table in the back of the café. "I could kill you, you know. I'm rich enough to pay off the cops and no one would ever find your body."

"You'd miss me too much and we all know it," Barty said.

They piled into the booth and Regulus put away his laptop to make space for his friends.

"So, how's writing going?" Evan asked, always one to start with a safe subject with Regulus. He was aware that his friend did this to help him put his guard down and while a part of him resented it, a bigger part of him appreciated that Evan always went out of his way to soften the blow of whatever heavier conversation they were about to have.

"Not great, honestly. I haven't been feeling inspired, I guess. Haven't written much the last few days."

"Maybe it's because you need to stop writing about murder and start writing romance," Barty suggested, leaning in conspiratorially. "How did the date go?"

"Barty, he's right there," Evan whispered.

"He can't hear us all the way over here. C'mon, spill."

Regulus sighed and took a sip of his coffee to delay the inevitable. "It was amazing."

"Why do you sound so put out by it?" Evan asked.

"Because, I just— He's so sweet, I'm afraid I'll ruin him."

"Was the sex good? I just know that man fucks like—"

"We didn't have sex." Regulus said quickly to avoid hearing whatever Barty was going to say next.

"You— What?" Barty sputtered in complete shock. Evan, however, looked pleased.

"We didn't have sex. He's… I think he's demisexual? He told me he hasn't gone on more than one or two dates with other men before, which… I was worried meant that he was just experimenting by dating me, but he says he's sure that he's queer so… I don't fucking know. He's sweet and fucking beautiful and I can't stop thinking about him, so I'm just gonna keep going at whatever pace he sets. Follow his lead."

"I'm impressed. Dare I say, proud?" Evan said. "I think this will be great for you, Reg. Even if it doesn't go further, just going on dates with someone without the expectation of it leading to sex is so important. And god, he really is beautiful. Did you guys kiss? Please tell me you kissed."

Regulus groaned. "You're never gonna fucking believe this."

He recounted the story of how amazing their first kiss had been, and then how it was immediately interrupted by his brother being absolutely terrible. The three of them laughed and made fun of Sirius, and caught up on everything they had missed out on in the last few weeks, completely ignoring the elephant in the room that was Regulus' attempt. It was like they had all made a silent agreement to never talk about it again, so long as Regulus was continuing his treatment and seemed to be improving. And he had to admit, at least to himself, that things did seem to be improving.

For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt content and was looking forward to the next day.

[yandere-fics]

♡ How They React To Their Darling Sighing For Attention ♡

(I tried to edit the original one but that one wouldn't accept my edits soooo... Honestly Fixing this fi was a long time overdue because the formatting on this was just not great and I'm pretty sure this was my second or third fic back when I only had the main three on this blog.)

♡ Miriel, the poor thing is panicking. Most of them would anyways but her especially due to her being an elf, the connection is not nearly as deep as it is for the others and so she can't just feel your emotions or know if you're actually sad or not like the others are able to. She worries about how long you've been sad without her even knowing! It could have been forever, really she feels like a terrible mate for this but don't worry she'll do everything she can to remedy this situation! ♡

♡ Explaining you were just being overdramatic for attention is not helping anything either honestly, if anything it actually only makes the situation worse. Did she leave you feeling unwanted and unloved for so long that you felt as though you had to resort to drastic actions? Did you feel as though you aren't allowed to ask her for attention? She really feels as though she's a failure and so obviously she must have been working too much, she needs to take time off and work even less so you can get the attention you desperately need! ♡

♡ Eliza can feel your emotions but that still doesn't make her feel any better about this because at this point she's honestly doubting if her connection to you is strong enough because while you didn't feel sad or anything, if you had she would have rushed over to you, the sigh just sounded so sad so maybe she's not as good at reading her mates emotions as she thinks she is. Werewolves rank second in ability to read their mates emotions, behind Demons who are quite excellent at it. ♡

♡ Explaining it to her will confuse her and make her call you silly all night while she gives you all the attention you could want. Honestly though it is rare there is a moment when you are in the same room with her and her attention is not solely on you, she doesn't even cook because she eats her food raw so there's not many chores or tasks she would be doing to take her eyes off you. This is most likely to happen outside if she's securing your area for a picnic at a park but even then not likely. ♡

♡ Despite claiming to be desperately waiting for her mate, though admittedly not very good at that either, she didn't ever look more into the mate bond or pay attention to what other wolves experienced when they felt the mate bond so she wouldn't know how strongly she can feel your emotions, sure she can have a vague sense at times but beyond that she's lost so when you sigh she thinks you're really really sad and that she can't feel it. ♡

♡ Don't worry she will forgive you for not stating what you wanted directly so just come cuddle with her, she'll give you all the attention you need. Just uhm, forgive her if she gets a boner during your cuddling because she was very turned on by having her mate crave her attention. Much like Eliza though there's not many times her attention will be off you, the only time would likely be when she's out running. ♡

♡ Kassien views this as cute though it's actually very rare you do something that she doesn't view as cute, she might not get to say it very often but you're so cute to her when you actually behave yourself for once and while she would prefer you just ask for the attention, wanting attention from your mate is very good behavior that she would like to reward though she would like to work on making sure you get a bit better at communicating with her. ♡

♡ She can feel your emotions though so she knows for sure that you're not actually sad, just wanting her attention. It does show her that the mate bond is actually working on your side finally and she's extremely smug about that. Come to her lovely, she'll give you all the attention you need or if you won't come to her then she'll come to you because to be honet she does very much enjoy having your attention too. ♡

♡ Nikki actually does know exactly what it is you want. She's a high ranked demon so besides the boss, she is the one who would have the best sense of her mates wants and emotions though she can't always tell why you are having the emotion like when she can sense you're upset and sad because she killed someone but assumes the reason must be because she didn't kill them brutally enough. Anyways she knows what this is for because lower ranked angels will occasionally engage in the same 'play' behaviors with their mates because sighing and acting tired is the faster way to catch your mates attention. ♡

♡ So basically the conclusion she comes to from this is that you wanted her attention to nap with you which she will gladly indulge as long as she doesn't have any paperwork to do. If she does then she'll just soothe you to sleep with her scent and join you as soon as she finishes. She is glad you are finally doing something she recognizes, maybe humans aren't as weird as she thinks they are. ♡

♡ Runa is like Miriel except she's a huge overreactor and assume something horrible must have happened to make you sigh so sadly. She'll kill the problem for you though, Love! She's such a great mate, she'll make sure it's extra bloody too if you want her to! When you tell her you just wanted her attention though she feels like she could cum on the spot, she just kiss you right that second, it's just too exciting! She obviously knew you loved her back but this is just extra proof. ♡

♡ There won't be many times her attention is off of you, even when she's gaming you're on her lap while she poorly explains her game to you so her attention is still pretty much on you and you are her favorite little toy, she likes just watching you in the apartment sometimes, she used to be bored all the time except for when she killed but now she has you to occupy her. Even when she kills in front of you she is paying attention to your reactions. ♡

♡ Nora doesn't know what to do, she's very attuned to your emotions and what you want because she is walking on thin ice to be your perfect girlfriend but she doesn't know what to do with this. She doesn't know how intense she should get with the attention and affection she's giving you because she doesn't want to scare you off because then she'd have to kidnap you. ♡

♡ Honestly she's probably frozen debating all her options and you might think she didn't even hear you but she did, she just doesn't know how she needs to go about this, it's an opportunity for her to make you love her more but she could also screw this up badly. You're much better off asking her to cuddle or kiss you because otherwise she's going to have a hard time. ♡

♡ Sawyer knows exactly what it is you want, she could sense your agitation in the mate bond and while she does think it's cute and does appreciate you wanting her attention, she wants you to ask for what you want directly so she's going to ignore this. You have to be a good girl and tell her what it is you need or she won't give you anything. If you continue to sigh or do nothing then she'll eventually tell you this. ♡

♡ You may not realize this but even when she's filing paperwork all day long, her attention never leaves you for a second, if you're in her office she is listening to every sound you make, it cheers her up actually and she longs for your attention too. If you're at home she hones in on every emotion she feels through the bond and will even order food for you if she feels you're hungry in the penthouse or she'll text you to tell you to order whatever you want to eat. Either way while her attention isn't always apparent, there is never a single second she is not focused on you. ♡

[agrlsname]

Thank you @therealsaintscully for the tag! I'm soon about to post what might be my very last fic, so it's quite fitting to look back on my journey now.

How many works do you have on ao3?

38 – all Johnlock, except for one GO fic. On New Year's Eve I will post number 39!

What’s your total word count?

371,360 (will soon top it off with another 221 words ;))

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What Friends Do (by FAR), Who I Really Am (personal fave), The General Idea, Coldness/Heat, Tomorrow's Song

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

At first I responded to every single one! And I still try to respond to every single person. But now, I sometimes only respond to the last one if it's a reader who's commented on every chapter and I get all the comments at once. I like staying connected to the readers, that's one of the most fun parts about fandom!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

It has to be This Is Your Song. I mean, there's another one within a series that end in an angsty cliffhanger, but MCD surely has to take the prize?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Oh my, nearly all of them have happy endings – so what would count as happier than happy..? Maybe it's actually the one that isn't posted yet – stay tuned for the resolution of the New Year's Kiss series!

Do you write crossovers?

Nope. I've written a fusion though (Johnlock and Moulin Rouge!).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yup. Some people get really angry at John in What Friends Do and they take it out on me. It's interesting because many MANY others adore the story with all their hearts! I even wrote a sequel from John's POV just to try to get people to understand, but the haters didn't understand anyway.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Even though at the beginning I said I'd never, half of my works are now rated E or M. What kind? Um, is "emotional, gay sex" a genre?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Many of them, into five different languages! Coolest thing ever.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I think I'm too pedantic for that. I've loved working with my beta on some poem translations, though, that The Sky is Full of Fiddles is based on.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

38 fics – you all know it's Johnlock, right? There are others that I love, but nothing can ever compare.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't have WIPs! I'm too much of a control freak and perfectionist when it comes to writing – I want to be able to change the beginning when I'm writing the ending. I don't even have unpublished WIPs – I hate the idea of leaving works unfinished. If I was still in those first years of writing frenzy, when I was single and didn't have a child, I'd have expanded on This Time – but as it is, I knew that I wouldn't have the time to do it justice. So I purposely ended on a cliffhanger that would still allow it to stand on its own the way it is.

What are your writing strengths?

Emotions, according to my beta! If you ask me, I'd say describing things – often emotions, I suppose – in new, poetic ways that play on different senses and therefore make them immediate. It's something I love reading myself, anyway, so it's something I've been practicing for... well, decades now. I'd like to think I've gotten at least somewhat good at it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm weirdly bad at coming up with the small details that aren't important, but needed. A recent example is I needed a character to text another with an invented problem to try to get him to come over. It wasn't at all important what the problem was, but it also couldn't be just anything; it had to be in line with his character. I could not for the life of me come up with this problem myself – eventually my husband did it for me. So those kinds of details in my stories are rarely from my own brain!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Hmm, well, I've tried not to do that. As a reader I find it annoying to have to look things up, or scroll down to the notes. I have three fics in which characters aren't English; in This Is Your Song I added a couple of "Bonjour"s for flavour, which is about as far as my own French knowledge reaches... In the Fiddles series they're Swedes and speak my mother tongue, but I've written everything in English except for the words that English doesn't have (like for example "polska", a kind of dance), and at the very end, some song lyrics that are then translated into English in the end notes that come immediately after. I did want to add that song for flavour, but I didn't want it to be annoying.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock! I started in the aftermath of season 4 back in January 2017 and then couldn't stop.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'm wondering whether I will come back to fic writing at a later point, but for another fandom. I've long wanted to write more for GO, although I already have written one fic. It would probably be a lot of fun to write for OFMD too. Doctor Who maybe? I don't know, it intimidates me to write for a new fandom where I don't yet know the characters as well as I know Sherlock and John.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This question is too cruel! There are so many of them that I love. Maybe I have to say The Sky is Full of Fiddles, after all – it holds such a special place in my heart for many reasons that go beyond the story itself (although that's true for several fics). Other faves are Your Daughter, The Zebra Sheets and of course Who I Really Am, which I'm liking enough to turn it into a novel I'm now trying to get published. See, I couldn't pick one!!

I'm on Tumblr way too sporadically to have any idea of who's already done this and who hasn't, so I don't dare tag anyone... Feel free to take it and tag me if you feel like it!

[marilynthornhilllover]

An Important announcement ⭐️

So as some of you may know, though I’m not quite sure if I’ve said this before but before I was a writer on here I was an editor (still do sometimes). And I found out about tumblr from a friend @slut4milfsss who’s not active anymore :(. Basically she used her work piece for the intro in one of her edit and I was like “ I need to know where I can read that” and she directed me over here. And honestly at first I had absolutely no business or urge to write fics…. Until there were barely any Marilyn thornhill fanfics on here at the time, hence the reason for my username so I began writing my own fics and over time I eventually started writing on different characters/fandoms.

I’ve loved writing since I was in elementary school but my love really grew in high school, and I loved literature and I had that fattest crush on my professor Ms. Lane who’s now Mrs. Cambridge ( don’t worry guys she knows and she’s honestly fine with my little story lmao). Growing up with parents who had money wasn’t always the nicest experience, most of the time I used writing as a coping mechanism with my depression and anxiety.

Graduating high school a bit early,and then before going to college I took a gap year to really decide what I wanted to do with my life and I decided whole heartedly on psychology! But anyway cut the long story short, I’ve had this app for 2 1/2 years which is crazy because it feels like yesterday when my writing started getting recognition. I’m honestly so proud of the work I did and the friends and amazingly talented and supportive writer buddies I’ve come across but unfortunately I’m not 18, 21 and 23 anymore next year (2025) I’m gonna be 25….😭😔. Time flew so much! I literally remember my high school days, college days and university days as well as my gap year in London so well.

I’m a clinical psychologist and in June I did my final course exams and I’m now officially an badge clinical psychologist with my own office in NYC and let’s just say I love my job it has a deeper meaning behind it and waking up everyday and getting the privilege to meet and therapy patients struggling with their MH and working along side some of the best doctors has always been my dream. Recently I’ve started another short course work in neuroscience and it’s so intriguing. Trust me wasting your 20’s away in degrees is not boring it’s worth it.

With that being said. This year wasn’t the best or easiest year for me. Don’t even get me started on 2023.I’ve got a lot of good things going for me right now, new friends, for the summer I traveled to L.A, I went to one the the VP’s rally where I got a picture with her, new experiences and most of all I think I may have met the love of my life! <3. And now going into 2025 I need space and a little breather. I wanna do some new stuff, I wanna travel and I wanna be happy with friends and family and work on some personal relationships and most importantly myself.

With that being said I will be taking a break from tumblr and taking a step back from this account and writing in general . I don’t know when I’ll be back or if I’ll ever be be back (that’s not decisive as yet for now I promise it’s just a break) I’ve taken breaks before, especially before my CPB exams and some random anon people decided to bash me in my own anon box as if I don’t have a life of my own….. but anywaysss I know I have a bunch of requests in my inbox which I will try to get through while I’m away along with CHP 10 the finale of my lady d series. I do love writing for you guys and this app has been my safe place and just a place of peace, smiles, experiences and growth, and I don’t know why I feel like I’m out growing my jacket. But I do want to focus on certain areas in my life now before I make decisions I don’t want to. I’ll always come back and reblog and share my love and support once in a while so don’t worry.

So To all my favorite writers @regalbootie @daydream-cement @prettygreenpills @littledollll @cissyenthusiast010155 @v3nusxsky @d4rkhold @wifeofnatasharomanoff @milfsloverblog @brienneoftarth1989 @willalovexx @daddy-heather-dunbar @togrowoldinv @kararomanoff @harksness @weemssapphic @storiesofsvu2-0 @schemmentigfs @ottiliaxwritten @ilovehugslikealotalot @m1lfsh4ke @gamma-rae-bursts , more in numbers than I can ever tag ( sorry if I didn’t tag you! I literally can’t remember the rest) , sorry for the random tag as well guys 😭☹️ but I do wanna say a small heart felt thank you, not only for being the most generous, genuine, kind, supportive, authentic, optimistically talented writers I’ve ever encountered but for just doing what you do, being a writer can be so hard and it takes endless courage but you guys manage to come through regardless. I remember reading some of you guys work and was in constant awe, most of my motivation and will power to write and be inspired came from you guys. And to my mutuals…. @willalovexx @luisa323 @milkiedimitrescu @m1lfsh4ke @gamma-rae-bursts @mymiraclewitch @kmaxmadness (and again sorry if I forgot anyone) Words cannot describe how much I love you guys. My love pours out beyond words, I will always cherish the continuous amount of love, generosity and support you all have given me. Especially the love you showed to me in times of anon hate and towards my fanfics. I truly did enjoy my time on this app all the fun times 😂 and most definitely the comments. I’ve made so many friends on here like Heidi who deactivated her account sadly but we are still so close and talk everyday on instagram.

I forbid any tears from this post!😤 but I really do love you guys and I will always think of each and everyone of you. And I wish nothing but the best for all you!🤍🌸. Remember to stay true to yourselves, go out with friends, fall in love, do silly things, give yourself a reason, do what makes you happy! Always…. And please do take breaks. Don’t write your life away when there’s so many amazing opportunities, experiences and people waiting. The world is waiting, the life than you want is waiting. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, wishing everyone a very heart felt holidays and happy new year!🎆🎊

— sincerely, your best friend.

[damthosefandoms]

ELABORATE ON UR SODA POST i love hearing ppl talk about him

(this is about this post which flopped for NO REASON btw it was really funny you guys are just mean)

So basically what it all boils down to is less about the joke of “Soda’s a virgin” and more about the fact I have this idea in my head that he tells Darry everything (which I touched on a little in that one fic I wrote that I’m shamelessly plugging here) and he lies his ass off to everybody else so that he can fit in. because idk, he’s a teenage boy. there’s a lot of toxic masculinity going on in this story lol.

Why do I think this? oh, you know. lines like “Soda smokes only to steady his nerves or when he wants to look tough.” Like how he smokes when he goes to try to talk to Pony about Sandy.

The thing is, even Pony points it out in a very roundabout way; I know Pony is an unreliable narrator, but Darry then admits to not realizing how upset Soda was, so it’s really intriguing to me that Pony implies that he thinks if something was up with Soda that Darry would know, because Darry is Soda’s big brother and he’s going to his big brother for advice about this kind of thing. unless there’s been a lot of other stuff going on at the same time to talk about first. Which leads me into this:

“Why didn’t he tell you? I didn’t think he’d tell Steve or Two-Bit, but I thought he told you everything.”

Of course Darry thinks that Soda tells Pony everything, because he’s Soda’s confidant, you know? Soda tells him everything and has probably mentioned wanting to open up to Pony too but that he has trouble with it. And, I mean. “Soda’s a virgin” LOOK.

Steve—and presumably Two-Bit because he’s in the room here—are under the impression that Sandy’s baby is Soda’s. Soda blushing and looking down isn’t embarrassment because “he got a girl pregnant” it’s because he knows he’s lied to his friends and now the story is spreading to Ponyboy and he’s ashamed of lying to Ponyboy because he wants to be honest with him, but he has trouble doing that and he can’t tell Pony the truth with everyone around anyway.

But Darry changes the subject. Calls Soda by that nickname. Because he knows.

And then let’s talk about the line there where Pony says Soda “was no innocent.” That Soda brags with the guys all the time about what he’s done with girls but never about Sandy! Sandy, the first girl Soda’s ever fallen in love with! The first girl he’s ever been serious about! But we know when Soda is around the guys that he’ll do things he doesn’t normally do, like smoke. Darry doesn’t think he’d tell Steve or Two-Bit that he’s not the father. But why would Soda be so shy about it to the guys if he brags about girls all the time? Unless he’s full of shit and never did most of the stuff he bragged about?

And. “He told me he loved her, but I guess she didn’t love him like he thought she did, because it wasn’t him.”

Here’s my theory: there weren’t really paternity tests back in the day, and if there were tests, I mean—you can’t really do that until the baby’s born, you know? And even if you could do you really think Soda or Sandy are gonna have money to figure it out?

How would they possibly know for sure that Soda wasn’t the father? The only way you could know he’s not is if he wasn’t sleeping with her.

“Don’t tell Darry, but I think I’m gonna marry her. After she gets out of school and I get a better job and everything.”

“She didn’t love him like he thought she did.”

“He wanted to marry her but she just left.”

think about how they live in a bible belt state and the time period and the fact that we know the Curtis family went to church once upon a time and how maybe the boys wouldn’t be religious enough to have it affect their views on a lot of things but there’s some… more specific values their parents might to try to get them to stick to considering how they ended up where they did and try to tell me I’m wrong.

Soda wanted to wait for marriage and Sandy… didn’t.

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part One)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️) also pls excuse my grammar.

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. The beginning takes place when Jason is still Robin but he’s no longer apart of the titans. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad)

Part One: Back To The Tower

“Babe? Babe!” You opened your eyes at the sound of Jason’s voice. His green eyes normally looked at you with gentleness but currently they were alarmed. Scared and scary are two things Jason normally does a good job at keeping separate, but when someone threatens his whole world the two merge to create someone dangerous to everyone, including himself.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” You asked.

“We’ve got to go, Dick called… he thinks joker is after me for some reason…I’ll explain more on our way to the tower.” Jason quickly grabbed the go bags you two had made in case something like this were to happen. He used to think having go bags was you two being paranoid but you always knew dating a vigilante would have its ups and downs.

You knew he was serious when he walked straight past his bike and headed to your car instead “Jason, slow down,” you said as he swerved around cars. He knew you hated speeding and he so he never dared do it, also because he liked not dying in a car crash.

“I’m sorry, so you know how joker has been leaving notes around Gotham?” He asks as he drives a bit slower.

“Yeah why?” You answer quickly.

“Dick called me two hours ago and said they think they’re threatens to Robin, threats to me.”

“Shit, what does joker even want with you?”

“I have no idea maybe I’m a pawn in some game he’s got going with Bruce or Dick or the titans or maybe he’s just decided I’m the next victim in his reign of fucking torment,” Jason’s voice shook slightly. You could tell he was trying to keep it together while driving; trying to keep it together infront of you. You two had been through so much together: he’d been the one you turned to when you left home, you two had been apart of titans together, he’d rescued you from poison ivy once, you talked him off the roof of the tower. You two knew each other better than you knew yourselves. Even after everything he still had a hard time voicing his emotions and honestly you did too.

“Why’d you change the fucking password asshole,” Jason said to Dick through the security camera at titans tower.

“More importantly why’d he change it and not tell us?” You said. Jason’s arm was around you, his leather jacket was a familiar feeling against your skin.

The tower brought back many memories for both you and Jason. You remembered painting your nails with Rachel while Gar and Jason tried not to burn down the kitchen. Late nights when you’d find Kori or Donna and ask for their advice when you first noticed yourself falling for Jason. They thought you were crazy of course but it all worked out, so far anyway. You remembered the first time you’d been to the tower when Dick took you in. Dick introduced you to the titans but it was Jason, who you only knew as Robin at the time, who saved your life and called Dick. Another memory you unfortunately recalled was the time after you guys got Jason back from Deathstroke. You hadn’t known pain till you saw the way he winced at the slightest touch or loud noise. Then there was his fall…your mind refocused when you saw Dick.

“Hey lovebirds,” he said with a grin.

“So what do these messages say exactly,” you said.

“Always so serious,” Dick says. You simply glare at him and he stops messing around. “Right so over the past few days there have been notes around Gotham in seemingly random places, each one is just some nonsense about circuses and birds so naturally it’s about Robin. They talk about the flying boy and encounters him and I have had he then goes on to talk about me becoming nightwing. The rest is disturbing stuff about him “wanting to pick off the feathers of the new little bird to reveal the horror inside”,”.

“Right…so seemingly random places?” Jason says.

“Yeah so, the first was found spraypainted on the stage of a highschool in Gotham, the next was spray painted on a random wall in an alley and the third was on the door of this bar…” Dick said.

“Shit,” Jason said.

“The highschool and the alley,” you said softly to Jason.

“And the bar… it’s the one my uncle took me to,”

“Someone wanna explain the significance to me,” Dick said.

“They’re places from my past,” Jason said. “The highschool I lived in, the alley I boosted the Batmobile in and the bar my uncle took me to.” You all simply stared at eachother waiting for someone to break the silence when Rachel, Gar and Kori came rushing in.

“Oh my God what are you doing here?” Rachel asked pulling you in for a hug.

“Wish I could say just to see you,” you say.

“Hey man what’s the special occasion?” Gar asks Jason.

“Unfortunately the occasion is another psycho trying to kill me,” Jason replied.

“Wait is that true? Dick is this about the joker?” Rachel asks. Dick looks at Jason who nods.

“Yes, we think joker knows Jason is the new Robin and is threatening him,” Dick says.

“No offense but isn’t this more Batman’s territory?” Kori says.

“Normally yes but he’s off doing Justice League bullshit,” Dick says.

Everyone gets comfortable and Dick explains what we know.

“So we know the notes reference Dick, Bruce and Jason but I think there’s a fourth person here,” Kori says.

“Is joker just referencing himself?” Gar says.

“I don’t think so cause…” Jason stops himself.

“Cause what?” You ask him. He doesn’t answer.

“Jason what is it what’d you find” Dick asks. Jason simply gets up and starts to walk away. Naturally you get up and begin walking after him.

Dick grabs your arm, you glare at him and he lets go, “hey let me go see what’s up just keep picking apart the notes with the others.” It was the Dick you knew, loved, and were annoyed by. The camp counselor anything is possible with teamwork Dick Grayson, the version of him which would soon have to step aside.

“Jason!” Dick says when he finds Jason in his old room which looks exactly the same. Jason doesn’t reply he simply grabs a bag and starts packing. “Going somewhere?” Dick says. Jason still doesn’t reply. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“You aren’t stupid Dick you read the fucking note,” Jason says.

“Maybe I am stupid cause I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jokers not threatening me, he’s challenging me…telling me to meet him. And he’s threatening y/n saying what he’ll do if I don’t go find him.” Jason says.

“Shit,” Dick says. “Okay but all you’re going to accomplish by going by yourself is pissing me off, getting your shit rocked by joker, pissing Bruce off, and scaring your girlfriend to death all of which I’m gonna have to fix so could you not be impulsive for once!”

“You don’t think she’s already scared!” Jason says.

“Yeah I do but I think you’ll make it worse if you leave her here,”

“She’d be safer here far away from Gotham and far away from me,” Jason says.

“Hey dipshits,” Kori says as she turns the corner. “Yeah I can read too,” she also seemed to have figured out the note “So why don’t you I don’t know, include her in the conversation about what to do about the threats that are against her?”

The three of them return to see you, Gar and Rachel sitting in silence, it was clear you guys had also figured out the full message. Jason doesn’t get a chance to even fully enter the room before you get up and pull him back into his old room.

“What were you thinking not telling me?” You say.

“You didn’t sign up for this shit,” Jason says.

“I did, and I don’t just mean with you I joined titans before I even knew your name.”

Jason hesitates before saying, “you’re right, I’m sorry”

“Apology accepted so what the hell are we gonna do,” you say slipping out of your serious tone.

“First question, do you wanna go out there and work with everyone or just keep this between us,” Jason says.

“What do you wanna do?” You asked. It was clear you wanted to include the titans in the plan. You knew Jason has a complicated past with everyone in the other room but you also knew despite his own feelings he’d do whatever would keep you the safest. He hugs you softly, one last act of humanity before completely focusing on being Robin. You and Jason were fairly new to the world of having a secret identity. You both tried to keep the two personas completely separate but at the end of the day the person under the mask always has the final say when hard decisions need to be made.

The plan everyone agreed on was simple. You’d stay at the tower, with Gar and Rachel far away from Gotham and the joker. Tomorrow morning Jason, Dick and Kori would drive to Gotham and work with Barbra to catch joker. If only that were actually how it went.

You’d fallen asleep in your old room with Jason by your side, around three am you woke up and he was no where to be found. “Jason?” You said as you looked around the room. The light was already on so you could see perfectly that he was gone. Jason must’ve turned the light on when he left, he knows you hate being in the dark alone after what you went through with Poison Ivy. “Dick!” You yelled as you ran down the hall to Dick’s room. To your surprise Dick was wide awake busy on his computer.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Dick said concerned.

“Jason’s gone.” You said.

“Fucking idiot,” Dick mumbled under his breath. He began typing quickly on his computer. “He got rid of his tracker didn’t he?”

“He cut it out ages ago,” you said frantically. Jason had vanished but both you and Dick knew exactly where he was going; he was going to face Joker alone in Gotham.

Please like if you enjoyed the fic I need to know people like it otherwise I’ll stop posting new parts (I have a whole storyline idea and backstory so like if you want to see more)🩷

Here’s my Masterlist so you can read the other parts.

Masterlist

[penncilkid]

Been absolutely going through it for the past few months, so I wanted to write something self-indulgent for myself. Consider this a WIP potentially but also could be its own self-contained short fic. I hope you enjoy /pos

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Pairing: Alexis/Sam [Note: Pairing exists within an AU where post Sam's turning (years later), they both go to therapy separately, start to heal, and realize they see one another in a new light and eventually start up a romantic relationship again.]

Length: ~650 words

[Other Notes]

Maia = "Darlin" clarification

Sam/Maia (or Sam/Darlin) isn't a thing but they do still meet/are friends

Gave Alexis a new surname cause I said so/she's Cuban to me and I want her name to reflect that

Tag List: @pinksparkl / @romirola / (for the many belated WIP Wednesdays you've tagged me in <3) / @angelicaether / @agentplutonium / @nortyourself

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Sam inhaled sharply, a soft groan leaving the vampire as he reached for his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He clicked the alarm off, sitting up as his eyes skimmed the notifications. 2 texts from Vincent, a voicemail from Maia— Scratch that, a text from Maia asking for advice with Milo. Calendar notification for tonight's meeting.

"What's the traffic lookin' like...?" he mumbled under his breath, eyeing the time as he checked. William hated preventable tardiness, and Sam didn't want to earn a earful tonight. "Usual time, huh? I'm sure I can get Vincent to stall for time if it really comes down to it..."

He set his phone back down, moving the covers back before making his way to the other side of the bed. He looked down, smiling to himself at how little Alexis had on. When did she even manage to snag his button up after this morning? He shook his head with a grin. It looked better on her anyways.

Sam tucked a piece of her hair behind Alexis' ear, "Princess, it's time to get up." The older vampire stirred for a moment but made no moves to get up. "Alexis Guevara, I know you can hear me—"

"Hearing your Southern drawl isn't incentive enough to get up," she mumbled, though she pressed her cheek against the palm of Sam's hand more. Always a brat, he thought to himself as he fought a smile.

"Princess, you were the one who said we oughta set an alarm so we wouldn't be late to the clan meetin'."

"Yes, and I said that before someone here wore every inch of my body out."

"Didn't hear any complaints when I had my—" Sam cut himself off with a laugh as Alexis flipped him off, eyes still closed. He knelt at the bedside, leaning forward to kiss her knuckle. "C'mon, Princess. Y'know Will's gonna fuss if you of all people are late to the meetin'. And I'd feel awfully complicit knowing we're not starting off this livin' together thing with a reputation for punctuality. So," he punctuated with a kiss against the shoulder slipping out of the stolen shirt. "Can you get up for me? Lil ol' Collins?"

Alexis laid there for a few moments, no reaction verbally or physically. Then, with a sigh, she opened her eyes ever so slightly. "For the record, there's not a small thing about you and you know that."

He laughed, and a smile broke out onto her face. "Good evening to you too, Miss Guevara. Lovely being greeted by beautiful eyes and a beautiful smile on this fine night."

"Yeah yeah, scoot out the way so I can find my clothes." Sam stood as Alexis sat up with a quiet exhale, stretching and pulling her hair out of her face. "How much time do we have before we need to leave?"

"Mmm bout twenty or so minutes. Don't worry bout the time though, I'll keep my eye on that," Sam assured, leaning down and kissing his partner.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Alexis tugged on one of the twists Sam had hanging, smiling to herself as she stood from the bed and walked past him.

Sam watched her go, tilting his head. "Don't you think you're forgettin' to leave somethin'? Somethin' on yer person that don't belong to you?"

Alexis looked over her shoulder with faux confusion, tapping a manicured nail against her lips a few time. "Mmm nope. Can't say I have. As far as I'm concerned, everything I've got on right now might as well belong to me. Oh, but maybe you should go find a shirt to wear, Sam. I don't think we need any bold fashion statements at tonight's meeting," she added with a smirk, turning on her heels and heading for his bathroom.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. Troublemaker.

[puppyeared]

who is your favorite AA character? 👁️👁️

ziska… I hope capcom brings her back someday

[aromanticannibal]

while I see the appeal of izuku calling kacchan katsuki I think if he does katsuki should be allowed to burst into tears immediately

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )