#anyway once again i got next to no sleep last night and it's making me cranky

[sheerfreesia007]

The Sleepy Cryptid Club

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Word count: 1,990

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Jeongin thought dating you meant peaceful nights and cozy mornings. Until your midnight fridge hauntings, invisible friend chats, and emotional pep talks to appliances became a regular thing. Between falling harder for you and updating the Sleepy Cryptid Club group chat, he’s starting to realize that loving you means laughing, blushing, and maybe installing a second lock just in case you try to elope with the toaster.

A/N: Divider was created by @thecutestgrotto, thank you for sharing your dividers with tumblr!

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway, @m-325

Part One: Ghostie Girlfriend

The next morning, sunlight filtered in through the curtains and birds chirped cheerily outside your apartment window. Jeongin stirred awake with a soft groan and the weight of your arm wrapped lazily around his waist. He turned his head on his pillow and gazed at you for a quiet moment, you looked peaceful, like you hadn’t spooked him to death last night with your midnight milk ritual and invisible friend chat. Turning his head he blinked up at the ceiling before groaning dramatically.

“You scared the life out of me last night.” he told you sleepily as he saw you stirring next to him. He then poked your forehead gently causing you to bat his hand away from you with a tired moan. “I was this close to calling a priest.”

“I mean, wouldn’t have been hard for you. You still have those connections don’t you?” you said in a teasing sleepy mumble and Jeongin stared at you with narrowed eyes.

“Oh you’ve got jokes now, huh?” he asked sarcastically and you chuckled softly before curling into his side.

“What are you going on about anyway?” you asked him as you yawned widely behind your hand.

“Last night while I was gaming with Seungmin and Felix, you walked into the kitchen, poured milk with military precision, sat down, stared into the void, and said that you loved me even if I wore socks to bed like a little old man.” he deadpanned and you stared at him for a moment before groaning loudly as you buried your face into his side.

“Oh god, not again” you mumbled out and Jeongin stared at you with wide eyes.

“How often does this happen?” he asked shocked and you shrugged your shoulders before lifting your head from his chest.

“I mean…whenever I’m super stressed or overtired? Not every night.” you tell him and he nods his head taking in that information in stride.

“Has anyone else noticed this before? Friends? Roommates? A deeply traumatized teacher?” he asks half joking and you swat at his chest lightly causing him to chuckle softly.

“Yeah, in college my roommate caught me trying to leave the dorm with a spoon and a sock in my hand. She just locked the door and made a rule that I had to wear socks to bed so I wouldn’t go looking for them.” you explained and Jeongin stared down at you as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“And the talking?” he asked curiously and you chuckled softly at him.

“That’s just a bonus feature.” you murmur sleepily as you cuddle closer into his arms. Jeongin chuckles softly as he tugs you further into his chest.

“Has it always been this bad?” he asks then as he tilts his head to the side.

“Kinda? I mean, when I was a kid, our neighbors had to make like a…little system for it.” you said softly around a chuckle. Jeongin looked down at you with a raised eyebrow and you smiled softly, no doubt remembering your childhood. “Yeah, once I ended up at old Mrs. Park’s doorstep holding a cereal bowl. She gave me toast and walked me back home. After that, the neighborhood parents had a group chat to watch out for me. One of them caught me trying to climb a tree in my sleep. I dreamt I was a cat.” you explained and he stared at you with wide eyes.

“You’re kidding.” he said softly and you shook your head with a twist of your lips as your eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Nope.” you answered amusedly.

“Okay, and why didn’t your mom and dad warn me about this?” he asked incredulously and you laughed loudly at his question. “Not even a hint?! ‘Hey Jeongin, sweetie, our daughter sometimes reenacts Paranormal Activity in her sleep, just FYI!’ Nothing!” he said dramatically and you burst out laughing at him.

“They probably thought it was under control. Or they didn’t want to scare you away.” you tried to explain why they didn’t tell him about your sleep walking and talking.

“Oh my god,” he groaned softly before burying his face into your hair. “Your whole neighborhood was like a secret babysitter club for your unconscious self.” he said in a soft whisper that made you chuckle.

“They were sweet.” you tried to defend them and he chuckled softly at your attempt.

“I need that group chat. I need a group chat.” he said softly in thought and you laughed softly as you slid your leg over his hip.

“I mean, you kind of already do with Seungmin and Felix.” you said teasingly as you adjusted your head against his chest.

“I’m so totally telling them all about this.” he said softly and you laughed while nodding your head.

“You’re going to need them to be your support group.” you joked and Jeongin grinned while tugging you close. He pressed kisses across your cheeks and nose before slotting his lips against yours with a sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” he murmured against your lips and you beamed at him.

“You love it.” you said softly and he nodded his head gently at your words.

“I do,” he admitted. “Next time you go haunting the fridge though, wake me up first or at least bring back cookies.” he joked and you chuckled at his antics.

Survival Squad (ft. Ghostie Girlfriend)

I.N. Denial [10:05am]: Guys! I asked her about the sleepwalking thing. It’s worse than we thought!

Minnie Meanie [10:06am]: She’s possessed????

Bronze [10:06am]: DID SHE CURSE YOUR MILK

I.N. Denial [10:07am]: No. Omg. She’s been like this since she was a KID! Her neighbors had a whole SLEEPWALKING WATCH PROGRAM for her!! Like the sleep version of neighborhood watch.

Minnie Meanie [10:08am]: You’re lying

I.N. Denial [10:09am]: I’m not! One lady made her toast. Another caught her trying to CLIMB A TREE bc she thought she was a cat!

Bronze [10:10am]: I’m sobbing. A literal cat girl in her dreams.

I.N. Denial [10:11am]: AND HER PARENTS NEVER WARNED ME!! I COULD’VE DIED!

Minnie Meanie [10:11am]: You’re dramatic. She’s soft. You’d just die of too much affection.

Bronze [10:12am]: Wait wait wait. So she just…wanders? Unleashed?

I.N. Denial [10:13am]: Apparently yes. And guess what! SHE TALKED TO AN INVISIBLE FRIEND WHILE DRINKING MILK AND HERE I THOUGHT IT WAS A DEMON!

Bronze [10:14am]: I’m crying. Jeongin got haunted by love. Awwww

Minnie Meanie [10:14am]: Honestly iconic. You’re dating the sleepwalking Studio Ghibli protagonist.

I.N. Denial [10:15am]: I’m buying a lock for the INSIDE of the door.

Bronze [10:16am]: Noooo let her roam. Let her haunt the neighborhood again.

Minnie Meanie [10:17am]: Free the Ghostie Girlfriend

I.N. Denial [10:17am]: I hate you both

Bronze [10:18am]: You love us. Not as much as you love her. But enough.

I.N. Denial [10:19am]: Duh, but don’t tell her that. She told me to make you my support group for her nightly escapades.

Minnie Meanie [10:20am]: I expect a live stream of it the next time it happens.

Bronze [10:21am]: YAAAASSSSSS

You get a notification on your phone and look down at it as you sit at your work desk. Bronze has added you to the group chat Survival Squad (ft. Ghostie Girlfriend). Staring at the notification with a shred look and a raised eyebrow you open the chat like it personally wronged you.

“Ghostie Girlfriend?” you whispered bewildered to yourself before your eyes widened to large saucers as the group chat opened and you began reading the texts.

Survival Squad (ft. Ghostie Girlfriend)

Bronze [2:15pm]: Bro if she sleepwalks again tonight record it. But like…cinematically. I want angles.

Minnie Meanie [2:16pm]: Add spooky music too. Like Gregorian chanting or whispering violins.

I.N. Denial [2:17pm]: Do y’all want me to be single? Is that what this is?

Bronze [2:18pm]: Noooo. We just want haunting updates.

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:19pm]: You know I can see this right? But lowkey would totally watch the video.

You watch delightedly as the typing bubbles instantly stop after your text. Before they begin again in rapid succession.

I.N. Denial [2:23pm]: wait. WAIT.

Minnie Meanie [2:24pm]: This is the end. Goodbye cruel chat.

Bronze [2:25pm]: Hi angel! We love and respect you! Please don’t possess us!

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:26pm]: “Ghostie Girlfriend”??

I.N. Denial [2:27pm]: I didn’t choose the name! It was Felix!

Bronze [2:28pm]: RUDE. You’re the one who screamed when she poured milk at 2am like it was a horror movie.

Minnie Meanie [2:29pm]: You literally said she was possessed.

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:30pm]: Okay but toast lady?? Cat tree?? Y’all made me sound like a cyrptid that lives on almond milk and chaos.

Bronze [2:31pm]: Wait you remember cat tree night??

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:32pm]: Unfortunately. I had a splinter in my knee for a WEEK.

I.N. Denial [2:33pm]: Babe. I swear we were just teasing. You’re cute. Even if you’re haunted.

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:34pm]: You’re lucky I love you and know you need a support group for this. I’ll forgive you. If you promise to rename this chat.

Bronze [2:35pm]: Can we call it Sleepy Cryptid Club???

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:36pm]: Only if I’m the president.

Minnie Meanie [2:37pm]: Fine. But Innie’s the VP of Paranormal Panic.

I.N. Denial [2:38pm]: Unbelievable.

Ghostie Girlfriend [2:39pm]: Also. I am sleepwalking tonight. Straight to your snack stash.

I.N. Denial [2:40pm]: I deserve that.

Sleepy Cryptid Club

I.N. Denial [1:30am]: GUYS! It’s happening again! SHE’S UP.

Minnie Meanie [1:31am]: How haunted are we talking? Like fridge door or demon whisper?

I.N. Denial [1:32am]: She’s holding a banana and whispering to the microwave.

Bronze [1:33am]: ASK HER IF SHE’S TALKING TO THE SPIRITS!! Maybe the microwave is her ghost therapist.

I.N. Denial [1:34am]: She just said ‘you’re the warmest friend I’ve ever had’

Minnie Meanie [1:35am]: I’m losing it. That microwave is her emotional support appliance.

Bronze [1:36am]: Protect her at all costs

I.N. Denial [1:37am]: Oh my god. She’s petting the toaster now.

Bronze [1:38am]: TOASTER??? Does it have a name?? Please tell me it has a name. ASK HER I NEED TO KNOW

I.N. Denial [1:40am]: ‘Don’t cry, Sir Toast-a-lot. You’re still golden inside.’

Minnie Meanie [1:41am]: I CAN’T BREATHE

Bronze [1:42am]: I’m crying real tears. SHE’S A POET IN HER SLEEP!

I.N. Denial [1:44am]: Ok new development. She’s recreating a fake cooking show segment with a banana and a spatula.

Minnie Meanie [1:45am]: Pls record. Pls pls pls pls. We NEED this for cultural preservation

Bronze [1:46am]: This is art. This is cinema.

I.N. Denial [1:47am]: She just said ‘Chef Jeongin likes it when I make breakfast sexy’

Bronze [1:48am]: EXCUSE ME

Minnie Meanie [1:48am]: SHE SAID WHAT

I.N. Denial [1:49am]: She’s not wrong but I’m blushing so hard right now. I’m about to marry her in her sleep.

Bronze [1:50am]: Innie pls guide her back to bed before she seduces the blender.

I.N. Denial [1:52am]: I’M GONE. I’M MELTING. SHE’S TOO POWERFUL. I tried getting her back to bed and her requirement was a kiss. Rizz at 100 when she’s asleep.

Minnie Meanie [1:53am]: She wins. You’re hers now.

Bronze [1:54am]: The cryptid queen has claimed her man.

Sleepy Cryptid Club

Ghostie Girlfriend [9:05am]: WHY is there a video of me calling the toaster “Sir Toast-a-lot”???

I.N. Denial [9:06am]: Because you’re iconic.

Bronze [9:07am]: Good Morning Cryptid Queen! Chef Jeongin is still recovering btw.

Minnie Meanie [9:08am]: We’re renaming your blender “Steamy Steve”

[veliseraptor]

there are many types of tumblr user that infuriate me but possibly the worst quality for me personally is "smug"

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i am so glad this week is finally (almost) over

i had an appointment with my pcp on monday to see about this possible kidney stone situation

they did a urinalysis on me and sure enough i do have some blood in my urine so that plus the pain means it's likely there's a stone, but i'm in a situation again where i haven't had any pain for days so it's like...that's not good !! (especially since this has been going on for a few months at this point !)

they ordered me a ct scan which i had today so i'm hoping maybe sometime tomorrow i'll get the results of that and we can maybe figure out what's going on

i also had a dentist appointment on wednesday but it was just a cleaning and my dentist said everything looks good. it is kinda funny because i was actually supposed to have this appointment months ago but decided to reschedule because i had too much going on that week and so it got pushed out until now and then i end up having even more shit to do this week than i did back then so...oh well !! it's finally done

and tomorrow i've gotta do some of my usual errands (mostly taking the garbage off and getting a few things from the grocery store) and then i think i'll finally be done !! hopefully !!

hope you have a good, restful weekend coming up if you're reading this !! <3

[reit0o]

sleeping with caleb (ᴗ˳ᴗ)ᶻ

—hcs about sharing a bed with caleb bc i still haven't finished his bday fic :p

☆ caleb has long accepted that he’s never getting his personal space back (good, he doesn't want it anyway). no matter what position he falls asleep in, he always wakes up at the edge of the bed, ass hanging out, with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala. he doesn't mind really, because he loves that you still gravitate towards him, even in your sleep.

☆ whenever you get into a petty argument, you make a point of building a pillow barrier between you. when he tries to protest, you just shoot him daggers and turn your back. you can't sleep because of his constant shuffling, but eventually, you knock down the barrier bit by bit, letting him roll over beside you and softly whisper an apology in your ear while he pulls you close. you don’t respond because you’re still upset, but you just let him hold you. and that alone is enough for him

☆ winters in skyhaven are brutal because of the high altitude. so on cold winter nights, you find yourself drawn to caleb because he's just so warm—he's basically a human radiator. when you're feeling cheeky, you like to slide your cold hands under his shirt and laugh evily whenever he flinches

☆ whenever you visit him in skyhaven, he insists on sleeping in your room together. It's not that he dislikes his room, he just prefers being in the space you've curated in his home. he loves being surrounded by things that smell like you, breathing you in while he falls asleep

☆ caleb likes to pretend he's still asleep when you think you've woken up before him. he lets you poke his cheek, blow in his face, tickle his chin, play with his hair until he’s had enough and rolls you over, pulling you into a soul-crushing hug you can’t escape

☆ his favourite time of day is the moment you fall asleep at night, and the moment just before you wake up in the morning. there’s something about your face that looks so peaceful and soft, that makes him fall in love with you all over again. he loves that you’re the first and last thing he sees every day

☆ contrary to what people might think, but caleb loves being the little spoon and being held. he doesn't do it often, but after long shifts with the fleet, there's nothing he loves more than lying on your chest, listening to your breathing while you stroke his hair. his worries melt away instantly, and he always falls asleep faster than usual—some of his best sleeps, honestly.

☆ caleb, the self-proclaimed claw machine master, is a prime example of suffering from your own success. not only does he have to share the bed with you, but with the 20+ plushies that he won and proudly bragged about. now he’s got his own personal plushie (you) snuggled up next to him, along with twenty others, silently staring into his soul

☆ caleb’s bed head is horrendous, and don't even get me started on his morning breath. you love counting all his cowlicks and taking pictures of his messy hair, holding your nose like you’re disgusted. but when he catches you laughing too long, he shuts you up by peppering your face with kisses before pulling you in for one long, deep kiss that leaves you breathless

☆ caleb is a light sleeper, so when he hears you tossing and turning, struggling to fall asleep, he gently pulls you into his chest and starts telling stories, just like he used to when you were kids. you call it childish, but the sound of his voice, soft and steady, is all it takes for sleep to quickly wash over you. and once your breathing slows down and your body relaxes, he whispers a quiet list of reasons why he loves you—one after the other, just for you

a/n- blessing you with a lot bc i couldnt stop at one. i cant be the only one that uses he's secret times as a sleep aid, his voice is so soothing i knock out instantly. short blabber bc i haven't finished half my fics i was meant to post last week. this caleb bday fic has been sitting in my drafts for over a month 🚬🚬

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[thinkinonsense]

first sleepover with worst!logan *mdni

the two of you hadn't been together very long before you invited logan to stay over; and to say he was hesitant would be an understatement.

"i'm not sure, princess..." he mumbles, getting up from the couch to leave again.

"c'mon lo..." you purr, stopping him by crawling into his lap. "it's getting late anyways."

this was the latest he had been over; almost three am. you weren't sure why he was so insistent on leaving, during the day he would hang around your apartment for hours but when night falls, he's eager to go. none of it made sense to you but to logan, it was crystal.

to start, he didn't want you to get too attached. logan couldn't have a sweet young girl like yourself get wrapped up in his twisted ways. from the moment first saw you in your silky, tiny nightgown he knew he wouldn't last a whole night alone with you.

"ain't gotta worry about me, sweetheart." he said, tucking a strand of lose hair behind your ear. "i can take care of myself out there."

you look up at him with these sad pouty lips that remind logan of one of the many times he's been shot in his lifetime. he loathed how soft you're making him; smoothing ever sharp edge of him until you've molded him into your perfect mate.

"pretty please, logan." you whine, wrapping both arms around his neck. the begging was only making it worse for him.

"i don't want to have to do this, doll face." he sighed, hands unknowingly traveling to your hips and playing with this silk.

"then stay here with me."

logan didn't think he was this weak. the old him would've just barked in your face and stormed out of the apartment already; but instead he's being dragged into your bedroom. the only part of your apartment that logan has never seen. well, technically he's peeked in once or twice but he's never been inside. everything about the room reminded him of you. soft pastels plastered everywhere and cute little decorations littered about.

what really got him was your bed. baby blue sheets with matching pillows and a decorative heart pillow front and center. if wade saw him sitting in this girly bed, logan would never hear the end of it. but for her? he would lay here until he died.

"whatcha think?" you ask him with a small smile.

"looks just like you; pretty and vibrant." he says, one hand on your jaw to pull you into a quick kiss.

logan stripped himself of his shirt before climbing in next to you. both of you laid on your sides with one of logan's arms wrapped firmly around your abdomen in the quiet bedroom. time passes and logan thinks he's finally got himself under control; falling asleep peacefully for once.

"mmm... lo..." you groan softly from your slumber.

logan wasn't an idiot, he knew what has happening. it wasn't easy but he tried to block you out, ignoring your sweet cries for him which had become manageable until you began squirming against him; your volume increasing little by little.

finally, he had to put an end to this torture. both large hands placed on your waist tightly and almost harshly to stop your movements, ultimately awakening you.

"lo, what are you-"

"can't even behave while sleeping, huh?" his voice was hot against your ear. logan's right hand travels up the nightgown to paw at your chest in a way that made your eyes roll back. his left hand travels south, exposing the thin matching material underneath your nightgown which sends your head flying back against his shoulder. the movement exposes your neck to him, biting and licking as he pleases.

"s-s-sorry for... for w-waking you up-p." you apologize, moving against his lower hand.

"no need to apologize, dollface." logan chuckles darkly at the eagerness and candor in your voice. "this is a much better sleepover than i imagined."

[catssluvr]

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒏, spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader (923 words)

in which you and spencer talk outside the bar on a night out with the bau

warnings: none :)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You stand outside the noisy bar, the nice music coming from inside and the breeze of fresh air brushing your cheek being enough to bring ease to you.

It would be a lie to say you´re a fan of this type of going out, but it is nice to spend some time with the team outside of work and you're more than happy to sit quietly and sip on your soda while they do shots.

But tonight the building feels louder than usual, too loud. Not really enough to make you feel anxious, but definitely enough to make you crave the fresh night air, away from all the sweaty bodies.

You see Spencer approaching you from the corner of your eyes, an awkward smile plastered on his lips. Warmth spreads across your chest, leaving you unable to stop the smile from appearing on your face too.

"Hey, can i join you?" He asks, sitting next to you as soon as you nod in agreement, "Here, i got this for you." He hands you the soda in his hand.

"Thank you." You reply quietly, hand grazing his for a moment longer than it should. You scan the paper cup that he's now holding between his hands, a frown etching your face once you realise what's on the inside.

"Spence, why are you drinking coffee at eleven pm?" You question with raised eyebrows.

"Oh- uhm- i just thought that since i'm usually in bed by this time and i want to drive you home i should make sure i'm very awake. You know, just to make sure." Spencer rambles, cheeks pink and head cast down in a way that makes you sure that he wasn't expecting you to notice.

“You really don’t have to do that for me, Spence.” Though your smile is really just grateful.

“I do.” He answers as if it’s the most obvious thing.

You're both silent for a moment, the same familiar and comfortable silence that you're sure he enjoys just as much as you. You can't help but subtly look to admire his enviable jaw, his nose the nicest shade of pink from the cold.

"Wait, you're actually freezing." You're too concentrated on the task at hand to notice he's reached to hold your hand in his, pulling away too quickly to start taking off his sweater. "Here, you should've told me."

"I don't want it- i mean i do, but you'll get cold too." It's hard to try and be calm when he's so close and the temptation to reach for the sweater that you know is very comfortable is very big.

"'Course not, my coffee will warm me up. Your soda is cold so you don't have that." It's a quite made on the spot excuse but it's also enough to convince you just a little bit.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, S." Playing hard is fun when you get to see him flustered over the simplest thing.

"Just take it." Spencer practically shoves it in your arms, "Please?" And god, the baby doe eyes.

A huff escapes your mouth, a defeated one that makes his smile widen, mouthing a small 'thank you' to you. As if he's not the one doing something for you.

Spencer steps in front of you, helping you into the sweater without having to be asked to. You fight the urge to tell him he doesn't have to baby you as he untucks your hair, pulling it behind your ears before unfortunately siting back down.

He clears his throat, "I was thinking, do you want to spend the night at mine?" He continues before you get to answer, "I won't be able to sleep too soon, anyway. We could watch a movie- if you'd like, of course."

"Can we watch Juno?"

"Rewatch, you mean? And no, not happening." He teases.

"Oh, come on. You chose last time." You feign sadness, forcing a pout onto your lips and turning away to persuade him into having it your way

"Don't do that- we can rewatch it, i promise." He thinks before saying, "But you can't cry when Paulie visits Juno at the hospital again, okay? I really don't have any comforting methods left." Even though he knows he'd go to the ends of the world to find a way.

"And we can get a blueberry slushie on the way to your house?" Okay, maybe you really don't mind getting babied by him. It does feel selfish, Spencer isn't really your boyfriend. You're not sure what he is, neither of you are, but you can't exactly just call him your best friend either.

"And we can get a blueberry slushie on the way." He confirms, nudging your shoulder before pulling you closer to him and giving you the perfect excuse to rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You're very nice to me, S." You all but whisper.

"You're very easy to be nice to." Spencer replies, again like it's the most obvious thing. His lips ghost over your forehead, stopping at your temple to press a tentative kiss there.

"I'm gonna tell the other we'll get going, yes?" He says gently after a moment.

"Course." You smile, slightly hazy with a pounding heart.

It takes him a moment more than it should to let go of you, pretending to adjust his sweater that's now on you so that you're 'extra warm' before squeezing your shoulder and going into the bar in a hurry.

You nuzzle against the fabric of his sweater, the comforting sent making you forget all about the cold weather. And you definitely don't regret not bringing your coat outside.

When Spencer comes back with your bag and coat, he definitely doesn't make a fuss to get his sweater back either.

[ybklix]

backseat

★ pairing: drunk-needy!han jisung x fem!reader

✦summary: Han doesn’t handle alcohol well, he always ends up doing something he can’t remember or embarrassing that he regrets. This time he starts teasing you, whimpering in need of your touch in the back seat of your other friend’s car after a night out at the club.

☆ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, mention of wet dream, teasing, clit play, very slightly somnophilia, (implied consent), oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex.

word count: 3.3k

masterlist - taglist

a/n: han jisung lately. that's it. he has me barking fr, read this while i work on a little more elaborated han fic requested, anon if u reading, wip luv u

dividers by dollywons

“Can you guys stop treating me like your fucking personal uber driver or something?” said Changbin amused but a little annoyed once you and Han got into the backseat of his car.

Changbin turned his body to see how clumsy you both got into his car.

“Sorry, sorry, Hannie got a little drunk, and he's the one who called you anyways, I was for sure gonna order a more kind uber driver” you replied, putting the safety belt on your drunk friend.

“Heeey man, what’s up” greeted Han to Changbin, completely wasted.

“Ha, ha, so funny. It's late and you know Jisung doesn't take alcohol well” replied Changbin, starting the car and looking at Han.

“Well, he's fucking 23, he can drink…” you argued.

“Yeah, but next time do it at home so you couple of babies who can't drink outside don't have the need to call me.”

“I thought I called Ch-chan” Han interrupted.

“We wouldn't have drank alone if you guys replied to the group chat I literally said-”

You were also drunk, not drunker than Jisung, but tipsy, speaking with difficulty and slurring your words, ready to fight.

“Shhh… why are you fighting, what's all that yelling, goshh, let me take my nap” Han spoke, dragging out his words because he was drunk, his heavy and loose body leaning on you.

“Oh the baby wants to sleep?” spoke Changbin in a baby voice, “you know what, fuck you Han, I was fucking a hot girl when you called” replied Changbin more annoyed, teasing him, and turning up the volume of the song he had in his car.

“Can you turn off the volume pleaseee?” whined Han.

“No” replied Changbin, turning the volume up a little more.

Han whined like a little boy, you said nothing and leaned your head back on the seat, when suddenly your friend's heavy body fell on you again, this time with his puffy cheek resting on your exposed breasts by your cleavage, from which you got a little upset; you wanted to move him, but he started moaning, you saw him, his mouth slightly open, his cheek squashed on your chest and his eyes closed, you thought he was asleep, one of the more reasons why he was so heavy and weak.

“Ji-jisung” you called his name in a soft whisper, stirring your shoulder a little to wake him up.

However it was impossible, the music was moderately loud. You started to stress as he was letting himself lean on you, you were about to move more roughly again and call his name when you hear soft whimpers come from his lips, mumbling your name.

“Y/n…” whimpered Han.

You frowned, thinking to yourself that he was somewhere between asleep and awake and was indeed somewhat conscious.

“Jis-”

“Mmm, Y/n don't stop, please” he mumbled again, whining in a slightly strange tone.

“What?” you said in confusion but he didn't respond and still had his eyes closed and his cheek pressed to his chest.

“Oh, fuuck” he sighed heavily.

That last one gave you chills, it had come from deep inside him and it had sounded so good, you were a little too drunk to think, still you magically came back to your senses… thinking about his moans sounding a little sexual, arousing a hint of excitement in you, making your nipples hard, but you didn't understand, you didn't know if he was playing or if he was really asleep, but somehow, his constant panting near you immobilized you, making your pussy throb.

You came out of your trance in seconds, you watched him, he really seemed to be asleep, you knew Han so well that you knew perfectly what his expression was when he was completely in a sleep state. But he kept whimpering softly, to which you deduced, he was dreaming and you finally connected the dots, as he was panting like that, it was a wet dream… if you had been soberer you would have laughed intensely, poor Hannie all needy to have a wet dream, after all you were friends… but you wanted to blame the alcohol for reacting aroused, for the closeness of his handsome face leaning on your breasts and… because he was babbling your name in his soft but deep voice… He looked so good near you that you felt bad because he was asleep and unintentionally, the car passing by a lighted area, so much as to illuminate the inside of Changbin's car, you realized that your friend had an erection in his pants.

That was enough, the alcohol was gone from your system and you were not going to tolerate that behavior, more from you, feeling all turned on by your best friend, when you yourself made it a rule to feel nothing but friendship for any of the 8 attractive men that were part of your life.

“Han” you stirred abruptly, heart racing, nervous and guilty for feeling horny.

He woke up, a little scared and shaken, confused looking around not even knowing where he was. And as he woke up he saw you, and remembered his very vivid little dream where he was fucking you in his room, you saw him and you were slightly with your cheeks red and he immediately felt his penis was hard.

“Ah, Y/n, I'm really sorry, I fell asleep” he said apologetically, nervously, still with the effect of the alcohol in his system.

You didn't know what to say, the car was dark anyway, so Jisung distanced himself a bit from you, but the poor guy was a bit too drunk to distinguish or remember if what he dreamed he imagined or happened at some point, he only knew that his cock was aching from being locked in his jeans and that he wanted to get it taken care of as soon as possible, the worst, was that when he got horny-drunk, his feelings of sexual appetite were more intense and he didn't know how to put out the fire inside him. Jisung tried to look out the window, but the constant motion of the car and the view made him more dizzy and confused. And it was there… when his mind started to play a bad trick on him again, his brain betrayed him, he wasn't the shy and serious Jisung, he didn't know anything about his surroundings, he only knew what he felt and he felt in fucking heaven all spinning around, but at the same time his cock was throbbing and pulsating. It was there, when he no longer knew how to distinguish, and acted merely because of the effect of the noxious substance in his body.

He was about to say and do something that he would not remember for a few long hours when he awoke from his deep post-drunken sleep.

Jisung turned his sight, which was moving as he was drunk, but he managed to distinguish your silhouette, with that dangerous dress you decided to wear tonight, provoking him by seeing you without ingesting any drop of alcohol, provoking him now too. You were still, petrified and incredibly aroused at all the thoughts going through your mind with Jisung, you wanted to stop them, but your pussy was throbbing and your panties were already wet, you hated being a little drunk, you got incredibly wet the slightest thing, that's why none of the guys played along when you invited them to the club, because you would surely end up drunk kissing a stranger, begging for more, that's why the eight of them looked out for you a little.

He finally approached you, sure of himself, with steady movements and hardly awkward at all.

“Hey, Y/n, I must admit you look beautiful today” he whispered in your ear, your skin bristled, he didn't sound drunk at all, and you wondered how the fuck he could be so good including that, “Fuck, you actually look so fucking good every day and I'll be quick and honest, I haven't stopped thinking about you for a second… to the point where…” he laughed softly, “shit, I'm so fucking hard, would you touch me?”

Every word quickened your heart, you knew it was Drunk Han by the boldness and flirting, he flirted often when he got tipsy, but he had never asked for such a thing; you opened your eyes and swallowing saliva, you looked down at his erection… in the last few minutes you had fantasized about his cock as much as you never did in their years of friendship, why now, why, why, you wondered, you didn't want to, you ignored him, treating him crazy, knowing he wouldn't remember anything anyway, wouldn't remember that you didn't want to touch him, just because you wanted to convince yourself not to, not to cross that line, but your insides burned, wanting his cock to be buried in your wet pussy, sliding down your puffy walls.

“Please, please do it, touch me please, I need you” he begged as you had never heard him beg before.

Finally, you turned to look at him, your heart pounding, you watched his big round eyes, all of him, poorly lighted for the dark night, still you distinguished the gleam in his eyes, begging you, so needy it made your pussy lubricate more. You moved closer to his ear, not sure he can be conscious of formulating a good answer and said:

“How do you want me to touch you if we are in Changbin's car?”

“Just do it like this” he quickly replied, taking your wrist to direct your hand to his cock.

Another prick in your pussy, he was hard, so hard you could feel through his pants, Han moaned, enjoying the sudden friction and pressure of something on his cock, finally. You weren't sure whether to continue, but you thought fuck it all, it felt so good, along with Han's sweet, soft moans getting lost amidst the loud music of Changbin's car.

You bit your lip and continued, you stretched out your whole hand, pressing and feeling his whole erect member on the fabric of his pants, you squeezed and stroked it, your insides on fire, wanting to get on top of him rubbing yourself until you cum, but your mission was to make him cum, every part of your body trembled with excitement and sexual desire, never taking your eyes off Jisung, and your hand on his erection, he never shut up, you never thought your little friend would be so vocal about being sexually pleasured, you never thought of him sexually to begin with. Jisung cum in his underwear as he enjoyed every second of your hand stroking his cock, he cum so well that he let out a loud, muffled whimper that got Changbin worried.

You were barely smiling with satisfaction, when Changbin turned down the volume of the music and said, “Did you guys say something?”

You denied quickly and innocently, as if he could see you in the gloom, guiltily, like a small child who was about to be discovered playing a prank.

“No” you replied.

Han was catching his breath, unable to think of anything else but his orgasm and the feel of his penis somewhat sticky from his freshly ejaculated semen.

“Mmm, okay” Changbin added, “will you stay at Han's place or do you want me to drop you off at yours… although it would be better for me if you stay with Han, I'm almost there…”

Oh no, you thought, how were you supposed to go with Han, you wanted to go to your place and forget about the heat of the moment, but Han stepped forward to say, almost breathlessly:

“She'll stay at mine.”

“Fine” Changbin replied, turning up the music and leaving you no chance to argue your answer.

You noticed how Changbin was already pulling into the area of Han's apartment building and you felt so bad about touching Han in his car that you didn't even want to say anything else to him.

“Now let me help you” whispered Han in your ear.

His hand caressed your thigh and slowly went up while his face was still very close to yours; his hand reached your panties, making Jisung smile sideways.

“But what a naughty girl, you were seriously walking around only in your panties? Who do you think you are?”

You didn't answer and let yourself be carried away by his caresses on the fabric of your panties, gently stroking your folds, tickling you and bringing you to levels of desperation you never knew existed in your body. Han reached your clit, pressing it hard making you let out a soft squeal, he enjoyed it, the libido winning out over his drunken state and making his cock hard again, Han was so hungry to undress you, but even drunk, he knew he was with his other friend nearby. Finally, after torturing you by caressing you on the fabric, he found a way to pull the cloth away from your panties and finally stroke your bare and needy pussy, feeling his fingertips brush across your labia and refocusing on your very sensitive spot. You also returned to stroking and squeezing his erection, stimulating it. Han began to play with your clit, making you wet and causing you to tremble a little, you were so desperate that you would explode at any moment, you needed him filling your pussy, but for the moment his sweet, gentle and now and then slightly rough movements on your clit were enough to make you reach orgasm, closing your legs a little by reflex as you felt your fluids slipping from inside you. Han smiled, broadly, sliding your orgasm past your labia and ready to keep touching you; he was so close to his second orgasm, but you both felt Changbin's car pull up.

“We're here!” he announced, slightly happy to be getting rid of you for now.

You both took your hands off each other quickly and sheepishly thanked Changbin, getting out of his car and walking into the building where Han lived. You felt so embarrassed, every step you took you felt the sogginess of your vagina rubbing against your panties and Han had to go inside, watching his trusted employees, trying to hide his erection.

Once inside you waited for the elevator, Han staggering nervously and a little drunk, as you entered you realized you would be alone and, wasting no time, you pounced on him, savoring his sweet round lips, in passionate but agile kisses, tracing each other's body in desperation, feeling on your chin the slight roughness of his chin from his freshly shaved beard. You glued your body to his, feeling his erection, you had never felt this good, you were sure he would feel better than any other single guy you had ever slept with, he was your sweet and fun Han, you couldn't wait to jump on his cock once the elevator doors opened and took you straight to his apartment. And, finally there, Han awkwardly separated from you, quickly and abruptly undressing himself, causing you to tenderly giggle, you couldn't help but think he looked cute, but your smile was erased once he pulled down his pants and underwear, exposing his pink-tanned cock. You watched him closely, from his penis, moving your gaze upward running along his marked abs and pecs, you were dumbfounded, realizing that you were really fucking your friend. Your body heated up again and, before Han could say anything, you stripped off your dress and underwear.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

Jisung couldn't believe if it was a dream, or if the alcohol truly worked magic, he never thought he was capable of getting past you with more than innocent glances and small compliments…. and now he was there, his cock throbbing at your naked image, he gasped and you had no choice but to get down on your knees to take his sensitive cock with its tip dripping his glistening precum, you wanted his cock everywhere on your body, hitting your face, between your tits, in your mouth, in your pussy, his cock was just as attractive as he was and you were sure it would fit perfectly in every nook and cranny of your core.

He looked down at you from above, expectant and incredibly aroused, you started stroking his cock, feeling every texture of his member, from his slippery pink tip to his balls, you smiled as you heard him moan, you stuck out your tongue, stimulating his glans to see him quiver and finally, you took his cock with your mouth, rubbing it in every corner of your cavity, savoring every inch of your sweet friend. Jisung grabbed your hair, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, unable to believe how he was still standing and not fading away, it had been a long time since he had been sexually pleasured, let alone in the wonderful way you were doing it now.

You sucked hard on his cock, your head in a steady motion and pace, fucking his cock with your mouth as he kept moaning and babbling your name, your pussy was soaking wet, you were begging for action and attention down there, your whole body screaming it, but you were so focused on the way Jisung's glans hit all the way to the bottom of your mouth with ease, his throbbing muscle colliding with your tongue and, after an internal struggle, Han cum in your mouth, causing him to whimper, feeling with immense relief, him savoring the orgasm and you his hot cum in your mouth, thinking that from that night maybe nothing would ever be the same again but you would fuck him so well anyway.

You stood up, moving closer to him and kissed him, blending his cum in your mouth, boldly touching his tongue, rubbing both your sexes, your breasts with your hard nipples and just bringing both your bodies together because of the closeness.

“C'mon, Hannie” you said smilingly, taking hold of his wrist and leading him to the couch in his living room, you were excited enough to go all the way to his room.

You pushed Han slightly so that he fell onto the couch and finally positioned yourself on top of his lap, taking his cock with one hand while leaning on his shoulder with the other, he looked so fucking good, his big eyes wide open, darker than usual, full of lust, his smoothly exercised body… you never thought he'd be the first of the eight you'd fuck first and there you were, settling his glans at your entrance and letting yourself fall slowly, sliding his erect cock into your wet insides as you so desired from the first hot whimper you heard come out of his mouth in that backseat. You let yourself fall all the way down, gasping at the sensation, his cock being hugged by your walls had him a mess, a very needy and horny one; you stirred your body on his cock, jerking your body, rubbing your dripping wet pussy on his testicles, enjoying feeling perfectly filled for a moment. Han couldn't help himself and grabbed your breasts, fondling and squeezing them, you knew Han was… a guy who enjoyed tits more than anything. And you moved, his rigid length sliding into your core, you moving to get the perfect penetration at your pace as he kept playing with your tits.

“Fuck, y-you feel so good, oh, my” gasped Jisung, unable to speak clearly, lost in the softness of your walls performing a series of steady, frenetic movements as you bit your lip, panting and in concentration.

You rested and pushed with your hands on his thighs, but you were both so close to orgasm, you felt his cock swell inside you and Han groaned as he felt your walls suffocate his cock more; you kissed him before accelerating your movements, jumping endlessly, exhilarated, quickening your orgasm, your whole body tensing until you released in your sweet climax, allowing your body to expel every sexual pressure built up, spilling your fluids on your friend's cock.

“Mmm, fuck, I'm gonna cum too” warned Han whimpering.

Han squeezed your breasts hard and cum inside you too.

You mumbled a small mmm as you felt all your insides wet, full and slippery, still with his cock inside you, you dropped your body on Han's shoulder, trying to calm your heart rate.

And who would have thought, all that happened and Jisung only had two drinks and one shot of tequila.

-----------------------------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89

[merlinmylove]

How Sir Leon and Merlin became friends

It’s back in season 1-2 and Sir Leon is on patrol with the Prince and the other knights.

He hears and sees Merlin talk rudely and loudly to his highness, breaking all sorts of decorum, flirting with another knight, (surprisingly Sir Kay doesn’t seem to mind) and spending most of his time feeding the horses treats instead of attending to his duties.

(“There you are horsies, some nice crisp apples for you — I know I know, it’s awfully rude of Arthur to drag you out here in the cold, I hate him too”)

Once they return back to the castle he writes his usual report on the events; cataloging how many bandits they fought, how many lives or equipment lost, who got injured and who took charge. The usual.

He included a simple note on Merlin’s behaviour, and hoped it would be subtle enough that the Prince would take matters into his own hand, and make Merlin stop embarrassing himself and the Prince in the future.

He hands the report over for Arthur to proof read before officially filing it with the other reports. Sir Leon had, perhaps foolishly, thought the prince would appreciate his notice of Merlin’s behaviour but instead Arthur tears the report in half and orders him to:

“Write it again and dont mention Merlin. If you have a problem with him, you come to me. Any slight on his character is a slight to mine, do you understand? He has my absolute trust”

Sir Leon doesn’t understand, not yet anyways.

But nevertheless, he writes a near similar report, no mention of any servants this time around, and His Highness accepts it and files it with the rest.

Over the next few months he tires to observe Merlin and his behaviour around the prince. Just as a precaution! After all, the safety and wellbeing of the Heir to the throne lies with him as knight commander and closest friend.

He notices that Merlin is always the last one to go the bed and the first one up. He singlehanded does all the chores Arthur sets him, even the ones that are beneath him in station, and really is just an embarrassing punishment set by Arthur.

For the godssake they have multiple stable hands and errand boys, Merlin should not be mucking out the horses and running around the castle fetching Arthur’s things.

He seems to sneak out at night to walk an hour to the lake and chat to a woman who lives in it. Leon hides in the bushes as he watch Merlin rant about Arthur’s smelly socks to an apparent goddess.

Merlin is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Helping Gaius and the citizens of the lower town, teaching the young stable boys how to count and write, mending Arthur’s torn clothes, brewing his tea and cooking his food, carrying buckets of water all by himself up ten flights of stairs, changing his bedsheets and polishing his armour.

Leon found himself wondering how the young boy stay so cheerful and kind whilst being so overworked? Does he ever have time to eat or sleep?

But then one night while on guard, Sir Leon would come to truly understanding Merlin. He hears hushed and harsh whisperings around the corner to the royal hall, so he draws his sword and peers around to listen.

It seem Merlin has cornered Lady Celia, and is blocking her path to the Princes chambers.

“Just give the flask to me, and I will tell no one” He demands in a tone of voice Leon had never heard from him before.

“I don’t answer to you, servant! Let me pass, or I shall scream. Then you will see what happens when you try to stop me” Leon didn’t need to see her face to know that she was smirking at him.

“Scream all you want, I don’t care. Arthur will belive me, and I doubt the King will be happy to hear how you tried to poison his son”

“It’s not poison! It’s simply —“

“A lust draft, yes I know. I recognise the colour and fragrance. You bought it three days ago from the traveling merchants. I saw you”

“Oh I see…the little servant fancies himself a spymaster. Stay out of this, or I will make your life a living hell” She sounded entirely too confident and it was starting to grate on Sir Leon’s nerves.

“Doubt you can make it any worse than what Arthur already does” Merlin mumbled, mostly to himself before continuing in a cold levelheaded voice;

“Your plan of seducing the prince and forcing him to marry you out of honour and obligation is disgraceful. I know you’re upset he didn’t dance with you at the winter feast last year — yes I noticed that too! But this is not the way to go about romance. A lust potion will be easily discovered by Gaius and your neck will be on the line. Hand it to me, and I will make sure this never happened”

Leon tightened his grip on his sword as he heard Merlin’s words. To think that someone had planned to accost His Highness tonight and Leon had no idea! He felt shame build up inside him. Lady Cecil’s voice drew him back into focus.

“Oh shut up little cretin! You’re nothing but a lowly servant, who in their right mind would believe your words over that of a Duchess? Your words mean nothing” She sneered.

Sir Leon had heard enough and decided to make his presence known. As he turned around the corner he held his sword drawn.

“But mine does. The King and Prince will belive me when I tell them what happened here tonight.”

Lady Celia drops the flask and it shatters upon impact. A strong aroma of roses and marsipan fills the corridor. She looks ashen and starts shaking.

Merlin on the other hand looks pleasantly surprised at his entrance. His body completely relaxed where he’s stood guarding Arthur’s door. Where the hell are the guards?! Did she get them too, Leon wondered for a second, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment.

“Besides, Merlin is not just a servant, he is the personal servant of the Crown Prince. Furthermore he is well trusted by all the knights and staff. And if you wish to go by social standing and birth…my word as Earl of Blackhall, and Knight Commander of Camelots army trumps yours.”

Merlin allowed a little smile at that.

“Now, if you will follow me my lady, I shall ensure this ends better than it would’ve had you tried to entrap the prince tonight.” It was an order and she knew it.

Lady Celia hmpft and walked ladylike over to him, carefully stepping over the broken glass, and potion soaking the stone floor.

He took her arm, and held it tight. Leon tried to conceal any further disgust with her as he turned to Merlin and asked him to gather as much of the potion as he could. “It will be needed as evidence. And please clean of up afterwards — I’d rather no one else falls under any enchantment”

“Yes, Sir Leon” Merlin said faintly, nodding his head at the older knight.

“And you’d better wake His Highess and alert him” At this simple request Merlin groaned and dropped any sense of dignity and respect.

Kicking his feet in a childlike manner he moaned “Ugh, why can’t you do that? He hates being woken up, and I would know because I wake him up every morning. He’s such an ass when he’s sleepy!”

Sir Leon grimaced as he was all too familiar with Arthur’s morning grumpiness. There’s a reason he always asked someone else to do it. Still, he had to feign some level of decorum.

“Merlin! That is an order. Fetch His Highness and tell him what you discovered. I shall bring Lady Celia to the council chambers and alert the King”

“Alright alright” Merlin huffed and hung his head. “But if he throws something me again, I will say I told you so!”

From this day on, Leon never once doubted Merlin’s character or loyalty towards his prince. He knew that he had finally found a man whom he could trust completely around Arthur…even if he was always late with breakfast.

[babyleostuff]

― SCARED YET?

sometimes it's fun to make your boyfriend suffer (make him watch horror movies)

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, bang chan being scared because of a jumpscare, clingy channie 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!bang chan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 418

💌 natalia’s note: not svt related, but i just finished watching a horror movie (and i'm a bit tipsy which = clingy), which means i need to write about a man being clingy (i know his ass would hate me for making him watch horror)

poor jeongin had to be cruising out his leader like crazy at this point.

he surely wasn’t sleeping, since chris’s screams had been echoing through their dorm for at least an hour now, so you were keeping your fingers crossed that his noice cancelling headphones were fully charged, since you still had half an hour left of the movie.

you probably should’ve warned him you’d be sentencing chris to the worst tortures imaginable that there are.

which are horror movies. which your boyfriend obviously hates.

you didn’t feel too guilty about it though. it wasn’t your fault he forgot about your last movie night, leaving you sad and alone in his room, while he was at the studio.

a bit of spook never killed nobody. plus, it was the perfect excuse to cuddle a half naked chris.

“what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” your boyfriend’s voice was muffled with how deep in your neck he was hiding.

“it’s okay, baby,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair, which now were the perfect length to play with. you were waiting for times like these. “you’re okay.”

he shook his head, whining softly. “nah-ah,” chris said, pulling his head away from you. “i hate you, y’know?” he pouted, jutting his bottom lip out. his arms tightened around your waist, not that you minded; he was already crushing your ribs anyway.

“remember whose fault this is, christopher, hm?” you hummed and ran your finger over his bottom lip.

a short while later, your boyfriend got back to his designated place, which obviously was in the crook of your neck with your arms tightly wrapped around his bare, strong shoulders.

“no, no, no,” chris mumbled, sensing another jumpscare. his body next to you was stiff as a plank and judging by how tense his back was, you knew he was scared for real.

kissing his temple, you tightened your hold around him. “we can turn it off, if you want.”

he shook his head gently, tickling you with his hair. “‘s okay. i know how much you like this movie. it’s just… a bit… scary.”

“chris, it’s fine. we can stop.”

he shook his head once again, being stubborn as ever, though it made your chest flutter with warmth at the thought that he’d rather do the thing he’s so uncomfortable with, just to make you happy.

“it’s okay, honey,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “as long as i’m holding you, nothing bad will happen.”

[pope-codys]

fade into you - andrew ‘pope’ cody x reader

Step One: Escape

summary: after smurfs death, you and pope take a trip to a small town. pope thinks he’s just there to help you decide whether you’re going to keep or sell your late grandfathers house. you have some other plans in mind.

pairing: Andrew Pope Cody x fem!reader (afab)

word count: 2.5k

fic tags: best friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, small town AU, fix-it fic, post-season 4 fic (Angela does not exist)

chapter tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of canon emotional abuse, mentions of death (smurf, your grandparents), no descriptions of death

authors note: i kept the location of this fictional town as vague as possible to help readers put themselves in the fic. that being said i’ve included some backstory between the reader and her grandparents because it’s necessary. this is a short chapter compared to what's to come :)

// next -> Step Two: Adapt (coming soon)

"We could just leave."

It was a suggestion but your words sounded pleading to your ears. Leaving Oceanside was something you'd wanted Pope to do for years. You'd watched him be abused, manipulated, and mistreated by his family over and over again and it almost broke you. They asked too much of him, always taking too much, not realizing they were slicing off bits of his soul with every job and every dirty deed they couldn't stomach themselves. Or they did see and simply didn't care. You saw how it weighed Pope down, how much it hurt as the trauma compounded over time.

Leaving Oceanside was something you'd wanted Pope to do for years but you'd never had the courage to voice it before. That was then and this is now.

Now Smurf is dead.

Having chosen suicide by doomsday prepper, which failed when Pope saved his mother like the good boy he was, despite her intention of taking him with her in death, Smurf died anyway by J's hand. From what the Cody boys told you, J made the right choice. Enraged that Pope would have the gall to save his mother from a shootout, Smurf had held him at gun point and begged Pope to shoot her. When he didn't she shot him in the ear to prove she would kill Pope if he didn't kill her first, which was when J stepped in to stop Smurfs madness.

When Pope and his brothers had returned to the house with Smurfs body, they found you waiting. The boys all went their separate ways to make arrangements for Smurfs body and you got a chance to pull Pope into his bedroom before he broke down. You held him as he cried, working through all the emotions spinning in his head. Anger that Smurf tried to get him killed, despair that she was dead, relief that she was gone and no longer had a hold over him. Smurf had been a horrible, selfish monster who had tormented Pope in ways you didn't fully know or could comprehend. You hated her. You had wished she would die. Pope had wished the same.

But she was his mother, and her death still hurt him.

Once Pope and his brothers got rid of the doomsday preppers after they stormed the Cody home, and the boys had everything settled, Pope still didn't improve. He felt lost and untethered, unsure of what to do with himself and was spiraling.

Which is why you suggested leaving.

"Leave?" Pope asked, his tone flat. He was lying on his back on your bed, fully clothed, jacket still on. He'd been coming over more recently, even before Smurf, to watch you sleep and quiet his mind. Most nights you could get him to join you under the covers so you could hold each other, but today he felt too off kilter to try and relax. You and Pope were friends, the things between you strictly platonic, but with how Pope had been treated his whole life sometimes those lines blurred. You wanted to hold him, to show him touches filled with kindness instead of violence, and the two of you found yourselves constantly in each others orbits, taking up space.

"Yeah," You said from where you sat next to him, your back against the headboard of your bed. "My grandfathers lawyer contacted me last week. Granddad died and he left me his house. I wanted to go visit the house, maybe think about selling it or maybe think about staying." Pope sat up and twisted around to face you. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice low in that subtle Pope way that showed concern.

"Hm? Oh yeah, you know I haven't been close with my Granddad since I was a kid. I'm his only living relative so I imagine that's why he gave me the house." Pope nodded minutely, like your explanation was satisfactory. "I want you to come with me Andrew. I'll need to drive across the country to get there and some separation from Oceanside might be good for you." Pope looked unsure so you pressed on. "Deran is disappearing somewhere to help his boyfriend flee the Feds and Craig is stepping it up as a dad. Your brothers have other stuff to get them away from this life Smurf forced you into, you deserve to have something too. You deserve to step away and do something for yourself."

You could practically see the wheels turning round and round in Popes head as he thought over your offer. You were worried you'd come on too strong, talking about how this trip out West would benefit him. If you'd been more logical and less emotional about it you could have emphasized that you were driving across the country alone, to a town you hadn't been to in years. Pope's protective instinct probably would have prompted him to agree to coming. Hell, if you'd been smarter about the whole thing you could have gotten him to offer to go with you rather than you asking him.

Pope was silent for a long time, so long you thought you'd screwed the whole thing up. That's why you were so surprised when he said -

"When do we leave?"

~~~

Your Granddad's small town was on the West coast, further up north, which meant you and Pope were road tripping together for over 40 hours. The two of you made pretty good time since you didn't make many stops. Pope insisted you stay in the car or at least close to him every time you stopped for gas, and when you stopped at some roadside diners for food you let him pick the booth. Typically it was close to a back exit and it gave him full view of the front entrance. You knew Pope would be on edge the whole trip, despite the route you'd planned with him, since it was unfamiliar to both of you and he knew just how awful the world could be.

You on the other hand felt very safe and content the whole way to the town of Benton Falls, with Pope by your side you knew you had nothing to fear. You were almost giddy having him with you. Your plan to get him out of Oceanside worked, even if just for a week, and you hoped that would be enough time to convince him he deserved better.

You only stopped at a motel once - one bed, with Pope sleeping between you and the door - the rest of the time the two of you switched off driving, with Pope taking the night shifts since he didn't need much sleep. It was around 10am when the two of you passed the 'Welcome to Benton Falls' sign and it didn't take long before the car was pulling into the driveway of your late Granddad's home.

The house looked the same as you remembered from your youth, wood paneling painted a tasteful light blue, a black shingled roof, wide windows with white shutters and flower boxes, and best of all a front porch that wrapped around one side of the house. It was two floors and a moderate size, it had certainly been enough room for your Granddad, your Grandmother, and your mom when she was growing up. The driveway extended past the house to a large standalone garage off to the right where your Granddad used to work on some cars in his free time.

The house was located on the outskirts of town, a 15 minute walk from the town center and about a 2 minute drive away, which meant the property and backyard was larger than those in town. The neighbours were a little more spread out here but close enough that you could wave 'hellos' from your driveway. The properties out here backed onto the forest which lent to the quiet that your grandparents had craved.

You and Pope got out of the car and you didn't even bother trying to grab your bags from the back seat, you knew Pope, ever the gentleman, would just take the bags from you anyways. Instead you walked back down the driveway to the mailbox.

"What're you doing?" Pope asked as he pushed the car door closed.

"I'm grabbing the keys. I texted the lawyer last night that we'd be here today and he said he'd leave the keys in the mailbox for me." You didn't miss the look of surprise on Popes face when you pulled a set of two keys and a letter from the mailbox. You did your best not to laugh.

"It's a small town Andrew. No one was going to steal the keys and break into the house, even if they knew the keys were there." You walked up the drive and passed him to go up the porch steps. "I bet if we went over to one of the neighbours and tried their front door, it'd be unlocked whether they were home or not." You pulled the screen door open, the hinges creaking, and propped it open with one of your feet as you put the key in the lock. The lock gave and you moved forward into the house, Pope right behind you with the bags.

"We will be locking the door, always." Pope stated like the alternative was insanity. To him it probably was. Leaving your door unlocked in Oceanside was a recipe for disaster and anyone who did it was an idiot. Pope had told Baz as much every time he came over to find Baz's sliding door unlocked and it always turned into an argument when Pope would bring up Lena's safety, usually with Baz saying something hurtful like Pope wouldn't understand how to take care of a kid since he didn't have one. Sometimes you were grateful Baz was gone.

You and Pope moved through the foyer and up the staircase in front of you to the second floor where the bedrooms were located. You paused briefly at the top, your hand stilling on the staircase railing as you decided whether you'd go right to the main bedroom or left to the guest one. Ultimately you chose left and led Pope to the guest bedroom, with its light blue bedspread and dark wood furniture.

"I don't think I can sleep in my Granddad's room. I-" You swallowed past the small, unexpected lump in your throat before continuing. "I think that's something I have to work up to but for right now I'm more comfortable in here." You glanced over at Pope who nodded at your decision and placed your bags at the foot of the bed. You appreciated that he didn't question you or tell you it was just a room, what were you scared of? You weren't scared of the room per say, rather the memories there.

You hadn't been close with your grandfather in the last decade and a half, just exchanging birthday cards every year, but every summer until you were tweleve you spent a month in this house with your grandparents. When your Grandmother was alive she used to sit you at her vanity mirror in the bedroom and brush your hair in the morning, when you were still sleepy-eyed and yawning. She would sing softly to help wake you up and by the time she'd finish doing your hair for you, you'd be smiling at her in the mirror. When she passed your Granddad let you come into the room to borrow her clothes when you visited, either a sweater or a scarf, and he took it upon himself to learn how to braid your hair. Despite having a daughter he'd never braided hair before, not for a lack of ability to learn, it had just always been the thing your Grandmother had done with your mom, and your Granddad didn't want to encroach on their mother and daughter time.

Memories like that had the lump in your throat growing bigger and you knew sleeping in his room would be too difficult at this point. You walked over to the large oak dresser and set down the keys and letter from the mailbox. You took a deep breath before turning back to Pope.

"You're welcome to sleep there if you want. Or you can sleep here with me, I don't mind." Pope didn't even hesitate to set his bag down next to yours and you couldn't help the smile that lit up your face as a joyful warmth spread through your chest chasing away the nostalgia of the house. Pope noticed and under the full brightness of your smile he gave a half smile back as he ducked his head. You were glad he chose to be close to you, it made you feel good that he felt safe with you too. You stepped forward until you were in his personal space and you took one of his hands in both of yours. Finally he looked back at you.

"I know I already thanked you for coming with me Andrew but…thank you. I don't think I'd be able to do this without you. It means a lot to me." Pope shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant, but you knew he wasn't used to hearing words like this. His family never thanked him for anything, big or small, unless they wanted something from him. Deran or Craig maybe had the very rare moment of genuine thanks for their older brother but beyond that, Pope's efforts went unnoticed.

You wanted to change things for Pope, you wanted him to be happy, to expect good things, to be treated right. Getting him away from the toxic environment he lived in was step one and you planned many steps after that to break through the tough exterior Pope was encased in and give him the chance at freedom.

You pushed up on your toes and aimed to press a kiss to Pope's cheek. He flinched, like he always did when you showed him affection and your heart broke like it did every time. You slowed your movements but you didn't stop, catching his gaze for a moment before pressing a chaste kiss to Pope's cheek, a small affectionate gesture of your thanks. Pope looked over at you with startled eyes, like he was at a loss for what to make of your token of appreciation. His hazel eyes held a sadness that hurt your soul, it was a bittersweet look that showed he was grateful for your words but upset that this was probably the first time someone had truly appreciated him. You offered him a small smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand.

"We'll get through this together." You said with an edge of determination. You wanted him to know you hadn't forgotten about his grief, no matter how complicated it was. Pope seemed to understand, like he always did with you, and nodded as he returned the squeeze to your hands.

"Now," You declared as you stepped back and away from Pope. "This house has been left to collect dust for over a week and we have all day to clean it top to bottom. Since you're the expert in this field Andrew, I'll follow your lead. Let's go look for some cleaning supplies." You gestured with your head towards the door to the bedroom and Pope followed you, standing a little taller, more sure of himself than he was before.

// next -> Step Two: Adapt (coming soon)

dividers by @ cursed-carmine

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

Yandere Cop x Reader (part two)

Part one

You didn’t sleep that night.

You sat in the same room after he was gone, staring at the chair where he’d been. Blood still soaked into the rag in the bowl. The ropes lay coiled like dead snakes at your feet. You kept replaying the moment he slipped through the window in your head, over and over. The look he gave you before vanishing into the night. He hadn’t said goodbye like a man expecting not to see you again.

He’d said it like a promise.

You should’ve cleaned up. You should’ve burned the rag, tied the ropes back up to make it look like he’d fought and escaped—but you didn’t. You just sat there.

When your father came back an hour later, he didn’t even glance at you.

“Cleanup’s coming,” he muttered, tossing a burner phone into the sink. “Get out of the way.”

You moved without a word, stepped out of the room and shut the door behind you.

The next few days passed in a haze of tension. No sirens. No search parties. No mention of a wounded cop crawling his way out of your father’s grip. Your father seemed convinced the man had bled out somewhere in the dark.

You didn’t correct him.

Not because you were loyal.

Because a part of you… wanted to believe the cop was still out there.

And you couldn’t figure out why.

-------

The safehouse was cold. Abandoned now, supposedly burned. Your father didn’t like leaving behind traceable places, but he’d needed it in a hurry and used it anyway.

You came back because something was drawing you here. You told yourself it was to make sure there were no fingerprints. No evidence. But when you slipped in through the back, you walked straight to the room where you’d last seen him.

The chair was gone.

The blood wasn’t.

Still stained into the floorboards, soaked deep into the grain.

You stood in the doorway for a long time.

“You came back.”

You froze.

The voice came from the shadows behind you.

You turned, heart skipping.

He stood in the far corner of the room—half-lit by the moonlight spilling in through the window he’d escaped from. His jacket was different. Clean. His hair was combed back. But his shoulder was still bandaged, the makeshift sling barely holding. And his eyes—

His eyes were the same.

You took a step back instinctively.

He didn’t move.

“You should be gone,” you whispered. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I tried,” he said quietly. “I really did.”

His voice was calm.

“I got halfway out of the city,” he continued. “Made it to a gas station. Paid a guy to stitch me up. Stole some clean clothes. But I kept thinking…”

He took a slow step forward.

“I kept thinking about your hands shaking.”

You swallowed, suddenly cold all over.

“You’re bleeding,” you said instead, nodding at the stain blooming through the bandage.

He smiled faintly. “Not enough to kill me.”

Another step closer.

“You need to leave,” you said, but your voice cracked. “If my dad finds out—”

“He won’t,” he said. “I made sure no one followed me. I’ve been… watching.”

“Watching?”

He nodded once. No shame.

“I had to make sure you were safe.”

Your breath caught. “From what?”

His head tilted.

“From him. From this life. From what it’s doing to you.”

You took a shaky step back. He stepped forward in time with you.

“I’m not your problem,” you said.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered. “You saved my life. That makes you my responsibility now.”

“That’s not how it works—”

“It is to me.”

You stared at him, heart pounding.

He moved closer. His expression shifted—something softer, something broken just under the surface. But it twisted, too, like he liked the idea of being broken for you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, voice low. “You haunt me. The way you looked at me. The way your hands shook while you tried to save me and pretend you didn’t care.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I do. I know you better than they ever will.”

He reached into his jacket—slowly. You tensed. But when his hand came out, he was holding a folded piece of paper. Your breath hitched when he handed it to you.

“I found this in the safehouse,” he said. “Your name. I know it now.”

You didn’t open the paper. Your hand closed around it like it might burn.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” you whispered.

He smiled again. Not a full smile. Just enough to show you he wasn’t afraid.

“You didn’t want me to.”

And the worst part?

He was right.

He moved toward the window again, this time backwards—watching you the whole time like he thought you might vanish if he blinked. Before slipping out, he murmured something that chilled you to the bone:

“I’m not going to let them have you.”

Then he was gone.

And for the second time, you were left standing alone in the dark, wondering what the hell you’d just let into your life.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Masterlist

Tag:

@magicaldestinyharmony

[fashionteahouse]

Hey so I don’t know if your doing requests but your recent update for out of your league made me think of something so cute. A quick imagine of Paul not liking the pregnancy pillow 🤣. Or once she hit the uncomfortable stage she takes to sleeping in a recliner in the living room and him coming into the living room so she’s not alone 🥹

this is cuteee and also im always doing requests ☺️ hope you enjoy :)

oh shhhh - paul lahote x reader

The pregnancy pillow had taken over the bed like some bloated sea creature. You were separated from Paul.

The pillow supported your back and under your belly. It prevented Paul from touching you at all. He hated it.

He tossed and turned. He kept moving. You were slightly irritated and just wished he would go to sleep already.

“Stay still.” You whispered to Paul.

“Y/N. Just let me hold you. You have this freaking thing in the way.” He poked at the pillow.

“I need it to sleep.” You blinked in the darkness at him.

“I got replaced by a pregnancy worm.” He grumbled.

“Oh shhh.” You say as you were perfectly comfortable.

He huffed and threw an arm over the pillow, reaching for you dramatically. It made you snort out a laugh.

“Emotionally, I’m being cockblocked.”

“Go to sleep.” You chuckled as you let your eyes close.

He huffed again but that’s the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you.

The child was growing bigger as time went on, which meant the movements were bigger.

The pillow was starting to not be enough. Your hips were killing you, your back was on fire, thanks to the nightly gymnastics that the baby was performing in your swollen stomach.

You didn’t try to sleep in the bed anymore. You let yourself start to doze off in the comfy recliner. It was the only place where you didn’t have to feel pain in order to go to sleep.

One night, you blinked your eyes open to hear the sound of quiet rustling.

You watch as Paul was setting up a pallet with blankets and his pillow, down on the floor next to you.

“Paul.” You croak out, your voice thick from sleep.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry babe.”

“It’s okay..You didn’t…Sleep in the bed, not on the floor.”

It was quiet for a moment before he says, “But, I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Well, sleep on the couch. Not on the floor.” You try to encourage.

“No, no. It’s fine. Really. I want to be next to you. Plus, the floor is good for posture anyways. You’re uncomfortable and I hate it. So, I’ll be right with you.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You didn’t care if he could smell them but, the hormones won the battle against you.

“I’m so glad I married you.”

“Aw. Me too. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to let that baby know how much they were kicking you..Just go back to sleep.”

You felt his lips press to yours before he lied back down on the floor. Whispering each other goodnight, contentment settled within the room.

You smiled with your hand on your belly, relaxing against the recliner. You already heard his heavy breathing, letting you know that his slumber was about to be deep.

Sure, the floor was hard and unforgiving, but Paul Lahote’s love was the softest thing in the room.

[nolita-fairytale]

and for us, it won't be long | joaquin torres x fem!reader | chapter three

summary: you and joaquin can't even order thai food in philly without flirting. a conversation ensues.

warnings: allusions to smut (minors dni), tooth-rotting fluff, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, swearing, idiots in love, use of she/her pronouns, one bed trope-adjacent, mentions of food, friends to lovers

word count: 2.6k

a/n: well, this is technically the end of the series, but i'm not done with these two. i've got a oneshot currently simmering in my brain where joaquin takes reader to a gala because i def have gala oneshot fomo! anyway, i wanted to give these two they're happy ending and love declaration. what do you want to see from them next??

part two | masterlist

Your previous plan to not let Joaquin out of bed goes right out the window when you awake to the sound of your smoke detector going off, violently pulling you out of what you can only call the most perfect sleep you’ve ever had. You swear to yourself, your heart pounding loudly in your chest, before you realize you’re in an empty bed too. 

You hear him first.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” he shouts from the kitchen, the sound of his voice taking just a little of the edge off of your rude awakening. 

“I didn’t-, fuck does this thing open?” you hear him ask again, almost to himself, earning a smile from you this time. 

The sound of his voice, and the opening of your kitchen window, is a reminder that last night was real, and that despite this less-than-gentle wake up call, he’s still here. 

He’s still here, and just maybe, he’s yours. 

“‘Quin, what’s going on?” you call after him, hurrying out of bed and into your now-smoke-filled kitchen. 

“Ah shit,” he swears again, his face sorry as ever as soon as he sees you. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” He gestures towards the stovetop before adding, with a small shrug, “Pancakes.” 

You take a few steps forward, taking a look at your now disheveled kitchen: stray flour from a half-empty bag, egg shells tossed in a small bowl, yet to be thrown out, and what can only be described as a charred pancake in the middle of your favorite skillet, the angriest of steam coming off of the now-burnt butter.  

“I think I burned it,” he confesses, apologetically. 

You can’t help yourself. 

“You think?” you ask, before you can second guess whether sarcasm is the most appropriate response. 

And as his eyes meet yours, neither of you can hold it in, breaking out into a hysterical fit of laughs at Joaquin’s obvious statement. It’s not until you realize that your smoke detector hasn’t stopped, the sound of the alarm bouncing off the walls of your small apartment, that you pull yourself together. You swear to yourself before grabbing a newspaper off of your kitchen island, and beginning to make fanning motions towards the alarm. Between the smoke traveling out of the now-open window and your fanning movements, the smoke alarm only goes off for a few beeps longer before finally, finally coming to a halt. 

This time, the laugh that you and Joaquin share is more of a chuckle—an expression of relief that the drama of this morning is over. 

“Not the sexiest wake-up call,” you joke, taking a few steps towards him this time. 

He shakes his head, “Not exactly what I had in mind.” 

“Me either,” you agree, your tone still playful. Placing a hand on his chest and beginning to lean in for a kiss, you continue with, “No, this is more of what I had in mind.” 

The corners of his lips begin to turn up into a smile as he pulls you in, meeting his lips with yours. 

“That’s so funny. I was just thinking the same thing.” 

You laugh, before kissing him deeper this time.

“Can I take you out for breakfast?” he asks you, pulling back just for a moment. 

“Mhm.” you hum, happily, pressing your lips against his once more. “In fact, I know a great spot for pancakes….” 

*

“They’re still your favorite,” Joaquin states, watching you carefully as you take your first bite into the fluffy stack of strawberry pancakes. 

“Hm?” you hum as you chew.

“Pancakes. 

You take a few more moments to finish chewing before replying: 

“Yeah. I-, I can’t believe I remember.” 

“Are you kidding me? You practically begged my mom to make pancakes every time you crashed with us,” he shakes his head in disbelief, doubling down. “We had pancakes the morning after prom. Your love for pancakes is seared into my memory.”

“Even after disappearing off the face of the earth for five years?” you ask, the question coming out a bit more genuine than you intend for it to. He shoots you a look that says: as if I could ever forget. 

It’s your turn to shake your head as you stab through your stack of pancakes with your fork. 

“You know me so well.” 

A beat. 

“Speaking of… remembering things… If I hadn’t brought it up last night, were you ever gonna tell me you remembered that kiss?” you ask, suddenly feeling as though you’ve trickled into dangerous territory. 

He chuckles, biting into a piece of bacon as he takes his time thinking about how he’s going to answer your question, as you continue. 

“It’s just-. You were so convincing with our moms the morning after, insisting that nothing happened. I was sure you didn’t remember.” 

“Well I’m a better liar than you,” he shrugs casually, a cocky smile on his face as he watches you for your reaction.

“No, you’re not,” you parry back, your wit quickly matching his. 

“No. I’m not,” he admits, his smile turning more and more genuine as he stares at you. 

You know him so well.

“Yeah uhh, I don’t know. Didn’t know if it’d ever, you know… come up. If you’d ever want me to… you know. Bring it up,” Joaquin answers, finally. 

“Well, I think last night was proof that I did,” you take your time replying. 

“Last night….” he trails off, a look in his eyes as he recalls the events of last night. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes.” 

You both laugh, a tension between the two of you that feels new yet familiar all at the same time. The two of you take turns stealing glances at each other, and averting your eyes respectively as you dance around the thing that you want to say. 

“What?” he asks you, noticing how squirmy you’ve become.

“Nothing,” you lie. “Oh bullshit,” he calls you out, this time allowing his eyes to hold yours with so much intensity you think you’ll explode right then and there.

“I-,” you stammer out, breaking eye contact with him. There’s no way you’re not turning this back around on him as you toughen up a little, knowing exactly how to wind him up. As if it’s a challenge: 

“You know, you should just admit that you like me.

“I should admit that I like you?! You should admit that you like me!” he insists, bantering with you. 

But you never intended for this game to go very far, so you’re going to let him win. 

“So what if I do?” you shoot back, arms crossed over your chest as you sit up a little taller. 

He doesn't expect you to give in so easily. 

“So you like me?” he flirts with you, a small smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, I like you, dumbass,” you shoot back with a playful eye roll, though there’s no malice to it.  

You stare him down, waiting for a response. There isn’t a part of you that doubts that he feels the same way, but if he wants to be a challenge, you know this game very well. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, almost as if he’s testing you—waiting to see how long you’ll last—and the joke’s on him because you just may be better at this game than he is. 

You’re unwavering, and it’s Joaquin who’s first to break, finally blinking in this staring contest for two. 

“Fine,” he admits, looking away just for a moment before returning his gaze to you. “I like you too! Like… a lot.” 

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tease him, because you realize that after all this time, this is just how you flirt with each other. 

“I mean it though. I’ve liked you for a long time,” he admits, and this time, it’s so tender that it takes your breath away. 

You inhale, reminding yourself that you sort of have to keep doing this whole breathing thing, because suddenly, the stakes of this conversation feel a whole lot higher. You nod in agreement, your eyes soft as you take in the genuineness of his admission. 

“So what do we do, Joaquin?” you ask, your voice softening as you ask the question.

“Well, I think we can start with a redo on this morning. I owe you a much sexier wake up call,” he’s quick to reply. 

“Of course,” you banter with him, cautious as you drag out the next few words.. “But I meant… you know.” A beat. “Maybe we just… take this weekend to think about what we want? What we both want to do. What maybe… this… is.” 

“I mean, I think you’re gonna have a hard time staying clear-headed if I’m gonna be blowing your mind all weekend,” he smirks. 

“Oh fuck you,” you roll your eyes again. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.” 

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he quips, in reference to your first statement. But then he takes a moment to think about what you said after, and he knows he can’t just flirt his way through the weekend. “As for the other stuff… Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. Let’s just enjoy the weekend. And we can talk about it at the end.” 

*

You spend the rest of the morning wandering around and exploring the neighborhood close to where you had breakfast. And because he’s on vacation (and really, you’re on his vacation too) wandering the city quickly turns into lazily making your way back home, his hand in yours, for a midday nap.

You’re not sure how long the two of you have been down, but you’re not sure you care. This might be the most and best sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. 

It feels good to be like this: wrapped up in his arms, just barely awake, as his lips trail kisses across your shoulders and back. 

“What’re you doing?” you hum, happily surrendering to the way his mouth feels against your skin. 

“Think I owe you a better wake up,” he murmurs against you, his hands beginning to roam. You push back against him, and you can feel him press his hips against your ass in response. 

“I think I like where this is going,” you smile, his hand snaking underneath the oversized t-shirt you put on for your nap. 

“Yeah? Want me to do something about it?” he asks you, as he turns your head so that he can kiss you. 

“Fuck yes.” 

What he does about it leaves you breathless, grasping for any kind of solid ground you can hold onto, and his name the only thing left on your lips. You meant what you said last night, and after letting him fuck you into the mattress again this afternoon, there’s no way you’re going to let him out of this bed now. 

“I still can’t believe we waited this long to do this,” you sigh out in pure bliss. 

He’s made sure to take such good care of you too, folding you back into his arms as the two of you enjoy the post-orgasm haze. 

“Well, you didn’t want to be an army wife,” he repeats, using the same words from last night. 

The same words that were once yours. “Yeah, I’m currently rethinking that decision. Plus, I never said anything about being an Avengers wife. Think I might like that,” you smile, pressing yourself into him. 

“Wife, huh?” he teases, 

“Relax, flyboy. You know what I mean,” you answer, lifting your head off of his chest just for a moment to give him a look. “Well, technically it’s Captain Flyboy,” he gloats, flexing his very official (and very sexy) rank. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and Joaquin shoots you a funny look as if to say: 

“What?” 

“I-,” you start, with a shake of your head before resting it back against his naked, beautiful chest. “It’s just. That should not be as hot as it is.” 

He laughs in response, taking note for the future, before going quiet again. 

The two of you lay there together, tracing soft shapes against his chest with your index fingers, as he combs his hands through your hair in the most soothing way. 

“I want this,” he says, breaking the silence between the two of you. “After every mission I want to come home to this: laughing in bed with you, ordering so much Thai food we’ll have leftovers for days. I want to come home to you.” 

“I thought we were gonna wait till the end of the-,” you lift your head once more.

“I don’t need to,” Joaquin interjects, his voice steady, sure. “If you need more time to think, I-, well, I’d get that. But I don’t need more time. I know I want this. You” 

“I don’t need more time, Joaquin!” you say, clutching the sheets against your body as you sit up a little taller so he knows you’re serious. “I want that too. I want you to have something to come to. To come home for.” 

He lets out a sigh, almost in relief, as he shakes his head in disbelief, like he never pictured this conversation going the way it did. The air is heavy with the implied possibility: that one day he couldn’t come home, and maybe that’s the thing you’ve always been afraid of. But you’re not sure it’s a good enough reason anymore. It was different—when you both were kids. You were just kids with your entire lives ahead of you. But you’re not kids anymore. 

And after that day, seeing him in that hospital bed, you haven’t been able to get him out of your head. It might’ve taken him almost dying for you to realize it, but you don’t want to waste anymore time not loving him. 

“So you wanna do this? For real?” he asks you, his eyes hopeful. 

“I do. I’m- I’m in if you’re in,” you reply, certain. 

A beat.

And as soon as the realization hits you, you groan: 

“Oh my god. How are we going to tell our moms?” 

“Let’s not focus on that right now,” Joaquin chuckles in response. “Let’s just focus on the fact that you finally agreed to be my girlfriend after… I don’t know, liking you for forever?!” 

You giggle, unable to hide the grin that stretches across your lips. 

“And you know, while being a military spouse didn’t have much appeal. I don’t know. I think I like the idea of being a part of the Avengers WAGs,” you say, earning a loud laugh from him. “They’ve got those, right?” 

“The Avengers WAGs. Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear,” he chuckles to himself, his eyes filled with the love for you he’s held back for most of his life. “Why the hell not? I’ll tell Sam he’s gotta rebuild the Avengers AND officially establish the Avengers WAGs while he’s at it.” 

You both exchange a look. And then a laugh. And then you’re pressing your lips to his because he’s yours and because you’re his. 

“Maybe when I’m back from Wakanda, you uh, you wanna come visit me in DC?” he asks, his voice soft as you continue to kiss him slowly. 

“Yeah. Maybe we can take turns,” you agree, in between kisses. “I come to you. You come to me next.” He presses you against him this time, and you shift so that you’re no longer curled up to his side, climbing on top of him. “We’ll do this. We’ll figure out. Because we both want to.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Joaquin smiles against your lips, as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

“Again, baby?” you gasp, reading his body language. “If you’ll let me, mi vida,” he rasps out, the kisses turning into a full-on makeout. 

And as if it’s a promise, you declare: 

“Yes, Joaquin. Forever. I’ll want you forever.” 

[mikkomacko]

Him and I- 10

Diamond Rings

Pairing: Mob Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: some cursing, crying, nothing much

A/n: bit of a fluffer chapter after sad Nico and reader last chapter. Hope you all like it! I’ll be back soon with a Christmas blurb for y’all :))

Previous chapter

____________________________________________

Nico can’t sleep.

You can hear him pacing the room, the light taps of his feet on the hardwood floor as he attempts to quietly distract himself.

He’s always praised you for your ability to be light on your toes, amazed at how you move around on jobs with the boys without making a sound. It’s why he’s always called you sneaky. And it’s a skill he himself has never been able to fully accomplish.

Even now, with fuzzy socks up to his ankles and an awkward gait that he gets from trying to balance on the balls of his feet, you can hear him.

Careful to not move too much, you blink away sleep and watch him. He doesn’t walk too far, going from one end of the bed to the next. Sometimes he’ll look out the window, but most of the time he’s just nibbling on the side of his thumb, one arm crossed over his bare chest.

Something in your chest aches, throbbing painfully in the space that your heart normally resides. Except it doesn’t feel like your heart is there anymore. Only the echoing beats of it, painful thrums in the empty captivity that gapes there.

Maybe you messed up, talking to Rino like that. You wanted to protect Nico, to keep his father from hurting him again but it feels like you’ve just hurt him in place of his father. Nico didn’t get to confront him, didn’t get to ask him what this has all been for. But worst of all, you didn’t even give him a chance at closure.

Softly kicking the blankets back, the rustle of the sheets makes Nico look over. He drops his thumb from his mouth, fiddling with the raw skin instead.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologizes, reaching out for you once you’ve gotten close enough. His hand is cold, even through the shirt you’ve got on and you’re glad you fell asleep with your socks on earlier. You hate the feeling of cold floors.

“You didn’t,” you say, taking a hold of the hand he’s picking at “maybe I just missed you.” You press a kiss to the pad of his thumb, wrapping the digit protectively in your first.

“M’right here,” he eyes your mouth, your tongue instinctively prodding at the scabbed wound under his attention. It stings, not enough to make you outwardly wince but Nico notices anyway. “Should have let me ice that before bed.”

“It’s ok,” you dodge, “just a scratch I swear.” Nico raises his eyebrows, humming like he doesn’t believe you but he’ll let it go, for now.

“Did you have a bad dream?” He cradles your face, eyes examining you like he’s expecting to see physical evidence of a pained sleep.

“No,” you assure, laying your hand over his heart, feeling the steady thump-thump under his skin. Nico wraps you up in his arms, pining you to his chest when you shiver.

Arms squished between your bodies, you happily snuggle into his hold. “Let’s get you back into bed baby,” he murmurs, lips on your temple. Taking him by the hand, you guide him back to the bed, kneeing your way onto the mattress. His body is warm against your back as he follows, collapsing into the pillows.

Mimicking him, you pull the blankets over the both of you. It’s cute, the way his cheek squishes into the pillow, eyes bright even in the dim room. Nico looks younger like this, when it’s just the two of you in the quiet night. No families to sabotage, no Devs boys to watch over. No expectations.

Just you and him.

That spot in your chest throbs again, the emptiness rattling your bones and you squeeze the blankets in your hand, pulling them tighter over you and him. Like that’ll keep everything out.

“Did it feel like this?” You ask, unable to keep the sadness out of your voice. Nico frowns, questioningly. “When it was me up at night, pacing and-and…”

“Scared?”

You nod, the pillowcase rustling in your ear. Nico blinks, gaze morphing from looking at you to looking through you. It’s visible in his eyes that he’s reliving the months after you were taken by Philly, before Johnny and Alex were there to distract you, to help you. How everyday it felt like you were fighting just to breathe. And Nico, he was fighting for everything on behalf of you.

You wonder what moments he sees when he thinks about it, which ones were the worst for him.

“Empty,” he finally croaks, searching your face. “I felt so empty. I wanted to give you everything, I wanted to fix everything and it was hard because I felt like I didn’t have anything to give.”

A lump swells in your throat, pressing tightly into your windpipe and it’s suddenly so stuffy and warm in the room. But the covers feel nice, safe, so you stay buried in them.

“You did do everything,” you tell him “even when it felt like that, just having you with me made it so much better.”

The eyebrow not pressed to the pillow quirks, as if trying to say ‘look at us now, you’re doing the same thing baby’.

“M’not scared,” he murmurs, quiet but not unsure. “About what happened, about my family. Not sad either- I mean of course I’m sad it got you hurt but I’m not sad about…”

“Rino,” you fill in, “you’re not sad that he’s gone.”

Nico’s jaw ticks, the muscles of it flexing as he chews at the inside of his cheek. Unlike his thumb, there no way for you to shield that sensitive piece of skin from his teeth. That doesn’t stop you from frowning though, eyeing the dent in his cheek.

“He never liked me anyway,” Nico finally responds, a yawn stretching his mouth. “I was always just…business. Never a kid to him, never a son, never a man. Never enough, I guess.

“So I didn’t really lose anything. Not in him anyway.”

The rest of the thought goes unspoken, but it’s clear you both know what he’s been contemplating over. Was his mom involved? Did Luca have any idea that Rino was still commanding some of the men here? What about Nina? Was they all in on this gimmick to get Nico back to Switzerland?

You wouldn’t really blame them, if they were. Not that you’re condoning what they did but you know how people feel about Nico. He’s such a strong person, a strong leader, and it almost feels necessary to always have him around. You wouldn’t fault anyone for wanting to have him around, even if you were the collateral damage.

Not that they deserve him. They don’t love Nico the way you do, they don’t see how relaxed and sure of himself he becomes with you, with the Devs. He’s yours to keep and love forever, and as they’ve all seen, you’ll go to hell and back for him.

“How did you deal with it?” You ask, steering away from his family. “That empty feeling?”

All you want to do right now is bundle him up in your arms, tuck him into that hollow part of your chest where no one can ever hurt him again. But that’s impossible, you can’t protect him from everything.

A tiny smile curls at his lips, almost bashful and he’s gesturing over your head. “Hand me my phone.” You shuffle under the covers, stretching across the king sized bed to get his phone off the nightstand.

Nico unlocks it, the screen lighting up his face and he moves onto his back, sitting up on his pillows. You follow, fitting yourself into his side with your head on his shoulder. The hand that finds your hip is warm and safe, almost guarding as it holds you.

Turning his phone to you, he encouraged, Go ahead, take it.”

So you do, blinking away the spots in your vision until the light adjusts and you can see the notes app open on his phone. It doesn’t have a title, but it’s a numbered list.

Sleeping with the tv on

Don’t let her go to the bathroom by herself

Likes when I touch her neck but only softly

Mario voice “it’s a me!”

Talking about her favorite books

Hold her hand when she calls Marino

Car rides with hot coco

Hot coco in general

“Nico what is this?”

He taps at the screen, scrolling all the way to the bottom where the last entry reads Taking care of Alex.

“It’s a list of everything that made you smile or laugh, even for a just a second, for those months after Philly.”

When you think about it, a lot of these moments are things you did with him when you were struggling. Nico stopped setting the sleep timer on the tv and would instead leave it on the channel that plays sitcoms all night. In case you woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. And he would play guard at the bathroom door for you, even at restaurants and grocery stores when you afraid of being left alone. He’d get you a hot drink and the two of you would drive around Jersey and New York for hours, tolls and traffic be damned. Always holding your hand, touching the back of your neck when he could tell you were nervous. And Alex coming to Jersey had been the final thing to pull you out of the hole. You had a young boy that needed help and a family, and you loved him from the moment he stepped off the plane.

You could give him a family. You were happy to even just try.

“There wasn’t much I could do to make you entirely better,” he whispers, pride in his tone “but I could do all of this to make it a little easier.”

A wet giggle escapes you, tears welling in your eyes. You were so miserable then, so numb to everything but him. Nothing mattered to you, but you remember thinking everyday that eventually he wouldn’t want to do this anymore. He’d get tired of fighting to get you out of bed everyday, he’d get tired of sitting with you and counting to a minute while you brushed your teeth, of laying extra towels on the bathroom floor when you showered because you were scared to close the curtain but water would run everywhere.

Yet this whole time, he wasn’t. He spent months watching over you like a hawk, making lists of how he could get you to smile, and even now he sounds happy telling you about it. Like the memories of all this work is a fond thought to him.

“I love your Mario voice,” you giggle, locking his phone. If you read any more of his little notes you’re gonna start crying, for real. “And when I’d play Mario kart as Yoshi and you’d do his little noise.”

Nico moves his phone to the nightstand, grabbing your thigh and hauling you into his lap. He’s smiling when you look at him, cheeks visibly rosy even in the dark. “Yoshi noise,” he reminisces, “was number 15. I’d practice it all the time so that when I did it, it was perfect.”

You try to picture him in the shower, making food, cleaning the apartment, all those moments when you were sleeping or reading and he had time to himself, muttering the little frog noise under his breath, eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

“You’re the most perfect person, ya know that?”

Nico blinks, a little taken aback by the passionate sentiment but he shrugs and smiles, like it’s no big deal. “I just- I wanted you to know I love you. Even if you had a hard time realizing it then.”

You realize it now, how your mourning brain had fogged up all your emotions then, to point that you were so scared of losing of Nico, when in reality there was never a chance of that happening.

You don’t even know what to say, not that you could if you tried, because that bubble of emotion is sitting heavy in your chest. And you’re unsure of how to burst it, of what words would come out.

Nico must know though, because he takes ahold of the back of your neck, soft and gentle, just like he’s always been. “Let’s go for a drive,” he suggests, squeezing just once.

“M’supposed to be doing things that make you feel better, not the other way around.”

He pats your thigh, nudging you to get up. “This makes me better, you letting me taking care of you…I like knowing you trust me like that. It feels-I don’t know but it’s nice.”

‘Never a kid to him, never a son, never a man. Never enough, I guess’. His words from earlier, becoming even clearer now. He was never trusted to be more than just an heir to Rino, to have more responsibilities. Which is why now, as his own grown adult, Nico feels safe when he’s in charge. And he’s good at it, thrives at calling the shots.

“Ok,” you agree, and you let him guide you up from the bed and into the closet. You let him gather one of his sweaters and some leggings, snow boots and warm layers for you to wear. You let him take care of you, knowing that the both of you are safe with each other.

~~~~

The car inches forward, Nico slow and deliberate as he navigates up the steep roads of the mountains. His song plays over the Bluetooth connection, that one from the bar that he sings all the time and even though you can’t fully remember the translation, it makes you smile knowing it’s a love song.

You take a sip of the hot cocoa filled thermos, sucking in a wince when it burns your bottom lip…again.

“Stop,” Nico laughs, tangling his hand in yours after you returned the drink to the cup holder. “Let it cool down.”

“I thought it was!”

He huffs, squeezing your fingers playfully. “You said that five minutes ago too.” The song switches to something instrumental, the car steadily climbs the mountains, and the snow outside begins to brighten.

It’s all so beautiful, the evergreens bending and swooping under puffs of snow. The baby blue rising over the peaks, making them glow in a softened light.

“I know why you left here,” you say, gazing out the passenger window in awe “but it must be so hard to walk away from something so beautiful.”

Nico makes a thoughtful hum, turning the car off the main road and onto a snow packed one. The view gets even better, and you can’t take your eyes off the landscape.

“It was,” he agrees quietly, “but I found prettier things at home in Jersey.” You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, warming your cheeks and neck until you’re sure they’re flush.

“Timo is very pretty,” you reply weakly, clearing your throat to get rid of the jumble of words still caught in your throat.

Nico rolls his eyes, lips curled in amusement as he pulls to the side of the road. It’s a clearing coveted in snow, messed of boot prints marring it but not taking away from its beautiful landscape.

The sun is continuing to rise, blue turning to purple over the mountain tops, the snow brightening even more. You didn’t bring the clothes to go out and run through it, but you’re itching to get out of the car and snap a photo.

Maybe you could even get Nico to take a quick selfie with you, smiling cheeks pressed together with the open valley and mountains behind you.

“What are we doing here?”

Nico lowers the music, stretching out in his seat and gazing out the front windshield with a satisfied little smirk on his face. “Perfect spot to watch the sunrise,” he explains, nodding out to the view “when the sun hits the mountain tops, everything glows.”

You can picture it, the orange and pink glow, reflecting off big fluffy clouds and snowcapped trees, the last few stars twinkling in the brightening sky.

“Can we get out?”

Batting your eyelashes at him, you pull your best puppy dog face. Not that it’s needed, Nico is already looking at you like he’d give you the sun and the stars.

No hesitancy, he’s laughs. “Yeah, course.” Tugging the hood of your jacket up, you pull the laces tight to protect your neck. Then you’re gathering your phone, tucking it into your pocket and soaking up the last bit of heater before getting out.

“Kay,” you grin “let’s go.”

The air is an icy bite, stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water. You shiver, curling into Nico’s jacket further as you slam the car door shut and kick through the snow. He’s barely getting out of the car by the time you’ve rounded the front, messy hair shifting in the wind now that he’s abandoned his hat somewhere in the car.

“Nico,” you scold, shifting on your feet to generate a little body heat “your ears!”’

He shoves through the calf high piles of snow, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched, but his face is bright. A toothy smile and pink cheeks, dimples accentuating each side.

God, he’s so handsome. You swallow down the lump of words clawing to get out, reminding yourself that he always has a plan and intention. He’ll say them, he knows what he’s doing. And you trust him.

“Nothing like frozen ear drums to wake you up in the morning.” He jokes, and you step into him, humming at how warm he is even through the wind and layers. You stay huddled together for a few moments, Nico’s nose pressed into the top of your head.

The sun continues to rise, speeding towards the mountains tops and everything grows lighter and lighter. Mountains turn purple and pink, clouds bursting orange and yellow, edging out the dark hues of dawn. Once it all turns gold you pull away from him, the chill even worse after getting used to being tucked into his side.

Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you step closer to the clearing and pull up your camera. You snap a couple photos of the sun rising, tree tops peaking into the edge of the frame. The snow crunches under Nico’s boots behind you, and you’re reminded to get a picture with him.

“Nico,” you sing out, innocently, examining the photos you took as you turn to him. He makes a noise like he’s listening, and you lock your phone. “Can we-“

Everything freezes. The wind stops blowing, the sun halts its ascent, your fingers lock around your phone in a death grip. He’s kneeling, Nico is kneeling in the deep and powdery snow, his frozen fingers locked around a familiar black box.

You must look shocked or surprised or whatever that hot feeling bubbling in your gut is because Nico laughs, just one wobbling little chuckle. Hastily, you shove your phone in your pocket, but then you have no idea what do with your frozen fingers.

“Y/n,” Nico says, like he knows your brain is going a mile a minute “baby.” It’s like he’s calling you, voice a siren song that digs into the nerve endings of your brain and it makes all that noise fade away.

Instinctively, you drop to your knees with him, cushioned by the snow and the double layer of leggings and jeans. He holds out his hand to you, the one not holding the little black box, and you take it between both of yours, warming his fingers between your palms.

“You have completely turned my life upside down, ya know that? Or I don’t know, maybe you turned it right side up because now that I know what it’s like to love you, to have you, I don’t know how I ever lived before.

“Everything feels right when I’m with you, like every moment before us was just steering me to you. You match me, stride for stride. You’re the perfect amount of calm where I’m crazy, of smart where I’m stupid, of solid when I’m impulsive.

“You’ve learned and accepted my lifestyle as if it were second knowledge. You’ve taken my boys and made them your own. You’ve taken me and taught me what it means to actually love and be loved. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you the same. My darling love, you’ve been a Hischier for a while now, but what do you say we make it official? Will you please marry me?”

The snow has seeped through your pants, soaked into the soft skin of your knees and shins but it doesn’t matter. Maybe you’re numb from the cold, but either way you can’t even feel it. Not with Nico in front of you, eyes wide and glossy with love as he releases your hand to snap open the box.

And there, tucked between two pillowy cushions is the ring you only heard about in passing. It’s not the beautiful and intricate green emerald one from his mother, but instead one of his own design.

A thin gold band, shiny and sleek. A large, round diamond sits in the center, sparkling in the morning sunlight. But the most beautiful part is the tiny pearls beside it, wrapped around the diamond in a delicate band.

Pearls, traditional and elegant and significant for the lifestyle Nico and you live. A diamond, new and modern but just as beautiful. The best of both worlds.

“Yes,” you cry, a wet laugh bubbling out of you. “Of course I’ll marry you, Schao.”

He’s sniffling when he pulls the ring out of the box, taking your freezing and trembling hand in his steady one. The ring slips effortlessly over your knuckle, settling onto your left hand like it’s always belonged there.

“It’s perfect Nico,” you murmur, swiping at your wet cheeks. He licks his lips, nodding in agreement as he delicately runs his thumb over the diamond.

“Yeah it is,” he looks at you, lashes dark and clumped together with tears, his nose and cheeks rosy. “Come here, you’re fucking freezing.”

You’re practically jumping him, arms around his neck and you crash into him so hard he stumbles back into the snow. It’s so fucking cold, wetting his hair and stinging your hands but it doesn’t stop you from smothering him in kisses.

All along his cold cheek bones, on the tip of his glowing nose, on the dimple of his chin, and then finally his lips, chapped from the wind and tears. You hold his face and he holds you, numb hands cherishing each other like the precious gems on your ring.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, eyes fluttering open. “You have no idea how hard I’ve been fighting all day to not ask you first.”

He giggles, pecking at your mouth once more. “Yeah?” He kisses you again. “Is that why you went quiet on me?”

You nod, just barely because you don’t really want to stop kissing him. Pushing his hair off his forehead, you kiss between his eyebrows.

“I love you too baby.” He holds the back of your neck, the hoodie protecting you from his frigid fingers. “So fucking much.”

Then he squeezes, just once and you melt back into him, stealing his lips for more kisses. Frostbite be damned.

At least for the moment because after a bit you can feel him shivering, and your hands are so cold they feel like they’re burn off.

“Let’s go warm up,” he pants, breathless and beautiful when you sit up. You climb up from his lap, cheeks aching from smiling and he follows suit, groaning as he digs himself out from the snow angel he’s unintentionally made.

You both dart back to the car, boots crunching and joints protesting but the blast of heat that engulfs you once you get in is so worth it. Tugging off your hood, it takes some wiggling and shuffling but you kick off your boots and wet jeans too, tossing them to the backseat.

Nico reaches for the dash, grabbing for his phone and you realize where his hat from earlier went. He’s balled it up on the dash, phone propped up on it and his camera open and recording the scene in front of you.

He willingly froze his head off in favor of capturing your engagement.

“Well aren’t you a doll,” you tease, making him chuckle bashfully. He tugs his beanie back over his head, tossing his own wet jacket into the backseat.

“For photos,” he reasons, handing you his phone “think one of you tackling me would look real nice over our bed.”

That makes you laugh, setting his phone in your lap while you up the heat on the seat warmers and fish the thermos of hot coco out from the cup holder. Nico’s rubbing his hands together, trying to get them warm while you take a drink.

Perfect temperature. Almost like he planned it to be ready for when you’d get back in the car.

Suspiciously, you eye him and hand over the thermos. All he does is grin though, taking his own drink and winking at you playfully.

Either he’s really lucky, or he’s one smooth fucker.

“Come on, show me the video already!” He laughs when you’ve just been staring at him. Scoffing, you pick the phone up and lean over the console.

“Can I kiss my fiancé first or is that against the rules?”

It’s almost dizzying how struck and lovesick he looks after hearing that. Like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear that name fall from your lips.

~~~~

The bedroom door clicks softly behind Nico, overly cautious to not disturb the boys still sleeping in the other rooms. You drop the pile of wet and soggy clothes off to the side, biting your lip when Nico takes a hold of your hip. He’s gentle when he turns you, crowding you into the door. His palm comes up to cradle you jaw, thumbing at your bottom lip until you release it from between your teeth.

“Hi,” you whisper, the words settling into the stillness around you two. Nico’s eyes crinkle, gaze warm as it washes over you.

“Hey,” he replies, just as quiet. His lips ghost against yours, soft and hot compared to the kisses you shared in the snow. “Can I get you out of those wet clothes?”

You belly swoops pleasantly. “Yes please.”

Boyishly, he chuckles and presses his hand into your face, tilting your chin until he can peck your forehead. “Me too?”

Your smile grows. “Yes please.”

Squeezing your hip, his hands find the edge of his hoodie on your body, dragging it up your body and over your head. It gets tossed to the side with the other wet clothes. Then he’s taking a hold of your long sleeve and doing the same.

Back and forth it goes, you repeating the motions on him, and then him on you until every piece of clothing has been thrown carelessly to the floor. Your mouth finds his, cradling the back of his neck and you walk him back towards the bed.

As if expecting the move, Nico’s arms find your waist, hauling you up until your toes can’t touch the floor. Helpless, you wrap your legs around him, clinging to his shoulders.

He pulls back to see where he’s walking, fingers rubbing circles in your lower back and you lay your head on his shoulder, lazily mouthing at the juncture of his throat and collarbone.

Nico tosses you to the mattress, your body sinking into fluffy duvet and pillows with a shocked yelp. Standing before you, a hand on his hip and the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, Nico grabs at your thigh.

“My first time,” he says thoughtfully, “m’so nervous.”

He knees his way onto the mattress, your thighs spreading to accommodate his frame. “This is not your first time,” you laugh, goosebumps rising on your skin as he drags his palm up the inside of your thigh.

“S’my first time with my fiancée,” he retorts cheekily, pressing his chest to yours. Then he’s pressing his mouth to yours, teasingly licking at the seam of your lips, slow and tenderly, taking his time.

After all, what’s the rush when you get him for the rest of your life.

~~~~

The house is still quiet when you and Nico tiptoe down the stairs, your left hand intertwined with his and he absentmindedly swipes his ring finger into the band on yours.

It’s cute, you think, how obsessed with it he is. Not that you blame him, you never want to take your eyes off it. It’s beautiful and all you can think about is how Nico picked it for you, that he found it with the intention of knowing that it represents you and him forever.

Nico can feel you watching him, knows by the way you stumble into his side and he has to guide you through the living room. His lips quirk up into an amused smile, gaze flicker to meet yours as you cross into the kitchen and you giggle.

Wordlessly, he stops and wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into him. Rising to your toes, you sweetly kiss at the corner of his mouth. Nico’s hand finds your ass, pressing you even closer to him and you make a move for his lips-

“Whoa PG in the kitchen please.”

Nico and you jolt simultaneously, your hand briefly squeezing his as you instinctively move behind him. He’s seemed to have the same reaction, turning as if he were going to shield you before freezing.

“Holy fuck Timo,” Nico gasps, his hold on you easing up “when the fuck did you get here?”

You sigh in relief, relaxing into Nico’s shoulder and trying to calm your racing heart. Apparently this trip has made you more jumpy than you’ve ever been, not that it’s not justified. You were kidnapped, choked, knocked on conscious, and slapped all within few weeks.

“Like ten minutes ago, why are you acting like I pulled gun on you-what the hell happened to you?”

Timo gapes when you look at him, dropping his half eaten toast to the counter and rushing towards you. He basically shoves Nico off of you to take a hold of your face.

“Long story,” you mutter, batting him away “we’ll tell you later when we go to finish the job.”

Nico takes ahold of your hand again, squeezing reassuringly. You can’t help it, you attach to him like two magnet ends, body and mind and soul aching to hold him.

“Are we gonna have to kill anyone again?” Timo frowns, “Because I just got the stains out of my pants.”

You look up at Nico, waiting for his lead. His lips purse, head tilting to the side like he’s thinking about it. “Nah probably not.” Timo slumps in relief. “Now tell us what happened with Amelia?”

Your friend’s whole demeanor perks up at that, blue eyes brightening and eyes crinkling with a huge smile. “We talked for hours,” he gushes, moving back around the counter for his toaster. “About everything! She talked about the shows she’s skated in and her lessons. And I told her about Jersey and the Devs, how big it’s all gotten.

“She wasn’t even freaked out either when I gave her like details on what we do. If anything, she was proud. She kept saying that she knew me and Nico would be big one day.”

He pauses, inhaling three large bites of toast. Crumbs scatter to the plate and countertop. “Timo, that’s great!” You encourage, but he’s not done. Holding up a finger as he chews and swallows.

“So she decided we’d give it a shot, yeah? Not dive head first like you psychos but we’re gonna do long distance and she’ll come visit more, feel it out? But I have a really good feeling about it.”

You’re already overly tender heart swells, and for the first time in a while, everything feels almost perfect. Timo is finally back with the girl he loves after years of enduring an ocean between them. You and Nico are getting married. You’re going home, back to Jersey and Moose and the house that will now have a roof over two Hischier heads.

“Timo, man congrats.” Nico says, awe in his voice. He must be realizing it too, soaking in the moment of things feeling right again.

We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Nico lets go of you in favor of wrapping Timo in a hug so tight it looks bone crushing. Timo chuckles, his grin mirroring Nico’s and they affectionately pat at each other’s chest. “Timo and Amelia, back together. Just like ol’ times.”

“That makes us sound like we’re forty.”

They giggle like school girls, your chest aching at the sight of the man you love with his oldest friend, still acting like they haven’t aged a day since turning 15.

“Will you quiet down,” Jack grumbles, annoyed and half asleep as him and the other boys shuffle into the kitchen. They’re still in their pajamas, bed head and pillow creases on their cheeks. Mercer looks at you, blinking a few times like he’s trying to make himself alert.

“Timo sounds like a fucking goal horn,” Luke adds, equally as grumpy as his brother. It must be a Hughes thing, their repulsion to the mornings.

“And all Nico does is giggle,” Jack glares at him, blue eyes glossy and swollen with exhaustion. He shoulders past Timo and Nico, heading straight for the coffee pot.

Nico looks to you, rolling his eyes but before you can even react back Mercer is there, large and gangly torso blocking your view. Confused, you look up at him curiously.

“Good morning Dawson,” you greet, but he just frowns, looking you up and down. You don’t miss the way he lingers on your busted lip, lips pouting. But then his gaze dips lower, trailing over where your arms are crossed and to your hands.

His gaze shoots up to yours, eyebrows raised in shock and something else. Maybe he’s…impressed? Like he thought Nico and you were gonna keep putting it off or something. Though you suppose he has taking into account that they’ve been telling him since Philly to put a ring on you.

“Nice ring,” he murmurs, voice scratchy and a toothless grin rises on his face. The kitchen goes silent, not even the quiet puff of breathes breaking the silence. Two heads peek over his shoulders, Luke and Alex looking at you expectantly.

“What ring?”

“You guys got married without us?”

Bashfully, you giggle, rolling your eyes at their dramatics. “No just engaged.” You dismiss, waving them off.

The kitchen erupts, a coffee cup clattering to the counter top as Jack and Timo leap to crowd in with the other three. They’re all jeering and shouting things at you, grabbing for your left hand and you laugh. Helpless to their excitement, you let them tug you around and show off the ring.

“I never would’ve guessed you be the first to get married,” Timo teases, whipping around the engulf Nico in a big hug again. Over the top of Luke’s tangled curls you catch Nico’s blush, the big toothy smile on his face. Until you’re being squashed into four pairs of arms.

Like a bunch of children on the playground, you and the boys all squeal and hop around in a jumbled group hug, the only thing keeping you from being bumped over is them.

“Part the Red Sea, please!” Timo shoves them apart, making a gap between Mercer and Alex wide enough to squish Nico in. You happily accept his open arms, let him wrap them around your waist and tuck his face into your neck. The group hug closes up, everyone squeezing you tight.

Giggling, you stroke through Nico’s bed head and he smacks sweet kisses to the side of your neck. You close your eyes, soak in the warm words and arms of those you love. Of your boys.

~~~~

Nico fiddles with his hair in the mirror, tucking it behind his ears and then tilting his head, bottom lip between his teeth as he examines it. Then he untucks it, shaking it out with his fingers and starting again.

“Baby,” you cap the perfume you were rolling onto your wrists. He hums in acknowledgment. “Are you ok? You seem nervous.”

He stops, gaze flickering to meet yours through the reflection. You’re taken back to all those weeks ago when he was first asking you to come to Switzerland, how he was fidgety and wide eyed all night. Did he have all this planned then? A proposal? Or did it just look out that way?

“Yeah,” he croaks, swallowing roughly. “I’m-I am nervous. I mean I’m ok but yeah.”

Placing your perfume on the counter, you slide over to him. Nico turns, propping himself up against the bathroom counter and you step between his parted legs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your hand trails up his chest, stroking over the soft fabric of knitted sweater. He looks so snuggly, so sweet you want to wrap him in your arms.

Nico grabs at your hip, eyebrows pinching in pain as he sorts through his worries and thoughts. “I don’t know what’ll happen,” he says carefully “I hate that, not knowing. Especially when it comes to you.”

You smile, thumb fondly tracing over the lines of his throat. His five o’clock shadow scratches at the pad of your finger. “It always works out Nico,” you assure “we can’t know everything, but we’re always prepared, right?”

A grateful smile curls his lips for a moment, but his eyes blink at you sadly. “What if they knew?” He asks “what if they were all in on it? This whole time, after I trusted them? I’ll do it, but I don’t want to have to say goodbye again.”

That empty throbbing feeling from this morning returns, clanging painfully against your ribs and heart. Nico didn’t get to say goodbye to his father, didn’t get to talk to him at all. You took over, you took that goodbye from him without even realizing how it could hurt him.

“Nico,” you sigh, guilty “I should’ve talked to you about Rino before I did anything. Dragging Mercer in there all guns a blazing and forcing him from your life…I mean you didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

You think about that day in the hospital when Nico left. You knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going. It broke your heart that he lied right to your face in front of all his family. It hurt you that he was making decisions for you.

And yet, you did the same. Maybe the circumstances weren’t exactly similar, but you didn’t even hint to him about Rino. No, you sent him out on a day with the boys while you destroyed the sliver of a relationship he might have had with his father.

Nico’s watching you curiously, eyes boring into yours. You wonder what he’s looking for, what he thinks you’re holding back or shielding from that apology maybe. What intention is he looking for?

“I get it,” you add “how you felt with Lena. I didn’t even really think. I was just so mad that he could do that to you, that he’d hurt you like that and I reacted. I wanted to protect you, but I shouldn’t have done it like that.”

He looks pained almost, like your words crawled down his throat and into his gut, twisting and knotting everything up. But he also looks…angry. Eyebrows scrunched and gaze dark, his jaw ticking.

“When are you gonna get it?” He asks, not mean but frustrated. His grip on your hips tightens, dragging you closer to him. “What happened, all this stuff wasn’t done to me. It was done to you, they hurt you.

“I don’t care if it was done to get to me, it actually, physically hurt you. So you don’t have to apologize for what they did, for taking Mercer and confronting Rino. Anyone that would lay a finger on you isn’t my friend or family.

“You are. You’re my family baby, and that’s all I care about.”

Maybe it’s the emotions of the day. Between his proposal, Timo getting together with Amelia, the boys loving on you too, and now this? Or maybe it’s just the fact that the sweetest, most understanding and loving man in the world chooses everyday to love you. Whatever it is, you sniffle back tears, blinking wetly at Nico.

One of his large hands cups your face, thumb gently wiping under your teary eyes. He eyes you lovingly, gaze warm and comforting and for some reason that makes you cry more.

“Eesh,” he laughs, tucking your face into his chest. “Why are you crying baby?”

“I don’t know!” You cry , hiding in the comfort of his embrace. His chest rumbles with laughter, lips smiling against the top of your head and he nuzzles into you.

“Ok.”

After a moment you’ve stopped sniffling, Nico wiping at your cheeks and eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. “Pretty,” he murmurs, a sweet grin dimpling his cheeks. Blushing, you press a kiss to his chin.

“I think everything with your family will work out exactly how it’s supposed to,” you assure him, heart fluttering in your chest when he reaches for your left hand. His gaze sparkles as he examines your ring, thumbing over your knuckle thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he agrees “I just…I don’t know. I really hope Katja wasn’t apart of it. I thought everything was fine after she came to check on you.”

You hum, unsure of what to say. You can’t guarantee Katja wasn’t a part of it. You also can’t guarantee that she wasn’t. If it were you and Nico, he’d never keep you in the dark about a deal like that. He’d have you right next to him the whole time, through planning, preparing, and even execution.

But Katja and Rino aren’t like you and Nico.

He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, long eyelashes fluttering as he does so and you think of the day Katja took you for a drive. Rino excluded her from everything, she had no say over what the business did. And you could tell she hated it, especially by the way she lit up when she realized Nico treats you as an equal in the Devs family.

Startled, you look up at Nico with wide eyes. His eyebrows furrow, grip on your hands tightening. “What? What is it?”

“She knew,” you say, “Katja knew. But she wasn’t in on it.”

Her threats in the car, her insisting you weren’t safe with Nico weren’t threats at all. She wasn’t condemning you and Nico for having a life in Jersey, she was warning you. Rino’s plan for his kids, Nico’s stubbornness and ability to push back against his family. Rino’s loathing of insubordination, especially his youngest sons.

He didn’t agree with how Nico rebranded his life and was running the Devs. Katja was warning you that Rino was taking action against Nico.

“Nico she was warning me. She was trying to save us.”

[atlabeth]

growing sideways

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer have separate talks with parts of the team. it becomes clear that this case is nowhere close to over, and neither of you really know how to feel about each other.

a/n: this chapter FOUGHT with me for some reason but we're here! lol. can you tell that they love each other's eyes? anyways enjoy. this was much longer but then i decided to cut it here so. yeah.

another new banner bc when i lose inspo i make a new one for funsies

wc: 4.8k

warning(s): the usual. reader and spence DONT argue for once ? some angst, some fluff

You sleep better next to Spencer than you have in months. 

Maybe it’s the weight of his body against the mattress, his soft breathing next to you, maybe it’s just the knowledge that someone else is with you—but for the first time since all of this has started, you feel safe. 

Nightmares have been a constant part of your life for as long as you can remember. The standard fare when you were young, fears of the dark and the monsters that lived under your bed. 

You usually had to weather the storm on your own. Some babysitters were understanding, would sit on your bedside until you fell back asleep. Others couldn’t have cared less. And of course, once you got older and could start taking care of yourself, you just stared at the ceiling until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You still have them, more often than any well-adjusted person probably should. But like most unfavorable things in your life, you ignore it as much as you can.

But for once you wake up naturally, blinking the grogginess out of your eyes as you slowly come to. Your gaze darts over to the other side of the bed, and some sort of disappointment settles in your chest when you find it empty. 

Normally you’d try and push that sort of thought away as soon as it popped into your head. But lately… 

Lately, you didn’t really know what to do. About anything, really, but Spencer most of all. And that kind of said something when you were actively dealing with a stalker. 

It was so much easier when you hated him—when you could believe he hated you. Now you were… friends? Acquaintances? Just two people that didn’t hate each other anymore?

You just didn’t know what to do about him. But as you catch sight of the clock, 8:34 blinking back at you, you decide that you have to start your day first before going any further into this mess. 

For some reason, you reach out and touch Spencer’s side of the bed. It’s cold. You never really pegged him as the type to get up early, but he’s been proving you wrong as of late. 

You try not to let Spencer Reid envelop any more of your thoughts as you get out of bed, rubbing the remaining weariness out of your eyes. You go through your morning routine but don’t change out of your pajamas—that room still makes your skin crawl. 

You walk out and head to the kitchen. Once again, coffee is already made. The mug you used for last night’s (this morning?) liquor sits in front of the machine, cleaned by someone with a more careful hand than you, alongside the sugar container. You huff. Clever. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you hear Spencer say your name. “You’re awake.” 

“As ever,” you say. You fill your mug and pick it up, then start to walk over. “You’re not going to make me use sugar, no matter—” 

The words die in your throat when you see someone else is sitting with Spencer, claiming the chair that you usually take. Your dad says your name with a nod of acknowledgement. “It’s good to see you.” 

Your grip tightens on your coffee mug. The heat burns your hands, but you don’t really feel it. “What are you doing here, Dad?” 

“We had a break in the case,” he says. “Our unsub made contact with me and Reid, and he might have been here last night, so you clearly can’t stay here anymore. Why wouldn’t I be here?” 

You look at Spencer and he nods. “He showed up this morning, an hour and fifty-two minutes ago. Forensics is in the yard getting evidence.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” you ask. 

Spencer shrugs. “You were exhausted. I didn’t see any reason to wake you. You deserved to rest.”

“This is more important—you should know that.” You look back at your dad. His gaze stays on Spencer for just a second too long. “So? What’s—” 

“It’s not more important,” Spencer interrupts. Your brows furrow as you look back at him, his words drawing both you and your dad’s attention.

“Reid,” your dad starts, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not more important,” he repeats. “This whole thing is about you—protecting you, keeping you safe. Your health goes along with that, and I’m not going to let you continue to neglect it.”

“Reid,” your dad says again, stronger this time. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Fine,” he says. “I just care about y— your health.”

You meet Spencer’s eyes for far too long, and it’s like he refuses to look away. You hate him and his stupid doe eyes; always filled with concern, always finding you. 

You hate how it feels like he’s always able to see right through you. 

“We think we’ve been looking in the wrong direction,” your dad says, finally breaking the spell over you. “I thought it would be someone I’ve already put away, that’s finally gotten out and is looking for revenge.”

“But the calls we got go against that.” Spencer clears his throat and speaks up, and you finally feel the weight of his gaze move away from you. “He said Gideon ruined both of your lives—yours and his. Looping you in with him sounds like he’s got a problem with his dad as well.” 

“Like I put his father away, not him,” your dad continues. 

“So my stalker thinks we’re the same.” You drink some of your coffee, trying to hide your grimace. “Lovely.” 

“It’s common in stalker cases,” Spencer says. “He doesn’t know you, so he’s able to idolize you. Fantasize that because you share this trait, that you think the same way too. It’s a way of coping.” 

“Reid’s been using a burner phone and my personal number isn’t public, but he still got a hold of both of us. He also found this place, so he’s clearly got technical skills,” your dad says. 

You shake your head. A chill runs through you despite the heat of the mug in your hands. “I don’t understand how he got here. You said this was top secret.” 

“We’re not perfect,” he says. “He might have gotten a hold of it in a leak—”

“Or we’ve been compromised from the start,” Spencer suggests. “Did we check the vans for trackers? Did you check her bags for trackers? I mean, if it’s someone she knows—” 

“You sound crazy,” you interrupt. 

“It’s not crazy if it could have happened,” Spencer says sharply. “And frankly, nothing is too crazy if it concerns your safety.” 

He meets your eyes, steely and determined. Again, his gaze is like a physical weight. This time, you look away before you can get too in your head. 

“Fine,” you concede. “Say any of these crazy things have happened. Where do we go from here?” 

“We’re taking you back to the BAU while we figure out our next step,” your dad says. “This place is on our unsub’s radar now; there’s too much uncertainty. You’ll be safe at the office, at least.” 

“Okay,” you say. “I guess I’ll go pack up.” 

“In a minute.” He looks over at Spencer and gestures towards the door with his head. “Go check on forensics. Make sure they have everything they need.” 

“But you already did that ten minutes ago,” Spencer says. 

“Reid.” 

His eyes dart from your dad to you, and then they widen as he shoots up from his seat. “Oh! Oh— yeah, of course. Yeah, I’ll go— I’ll go do that.” 

He scurries away, but he looks back and meets your eyes. You quickly avert them, feeling your face heat, and you don’t look away from your coffee until you hear the door shut. 

“Very subtle, Dad,” you murmur. 

“He won’t mind,” he says. He stands up and walks over, eyes softening as he places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” 

You flinch just so at his touch, and you know he notices. You try to ignore it anyways as you clear your throat. “Fine. Clearly.” 

“You don’t have to lie,” he says. “Especially with the recent advancements.” 

“I’m fine,” you repeat, putting extra emphasis on the word. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming last night?”

“I’m worried our comms are compromised.” He stares at you for another second before he removes his hand and clears his throat. “I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.” 

“Makes sense.” You take another sip of coffee, then blink and look at your dad. “Uh— do you want a cup?”

He shakes his head. “Reid already offered when he brewed the pot.” He pauses. “Says he does it every morning for you.”

You shrug. “I never asked him to. He’s just always awake before me.”

He nods. “So the two of you are on better terms?”

“I—” 

You think back to last night—to the shared bed, the murmured words beneath the cover of darkness, Spencer pulling you back from the edge without a second thought. You feel your face heat and you glance away. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “He’s tolerable.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Tolerable?”

“Yeah,” you repeat. “Give him the medal of honor.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re getting along with each other.” Your dad pauses, and uncertainty plagues his features in a way you’re not used to. “If you have—”

“Have what?” you interrupt. “Anything I want to talk about?”

He nods. “These are unprecedented times for you. You’re going through something incredibly traumatic. I’m here if you want to talk.”

“First time I think I’ve ever heard that from you,” you mutter. 

His hand comes up like he wants to reach out to you, but he wavers. Your dad is always so unsure about you in every way, and though a part of you wants to ignore all his efforts, another part of you just wants to take the shreds of love you’ve been wanting for so long. A part of you wants to break down sobbing in his arms, let him be your dad and let yourself be his daughter. 

“I—” You clear your throat, turning back to him for a second. You let your other arm drop, opening yourself up a bit. “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s all I ask,” your dad says. “That you know I’m here for you. That—”

He’s interrupted when the door opens, Spencer already talking as he walks through.

“Forensics is wrapping up right now,” he says. “They’re headed back to the lab after this—Anders said she would reach out as soon as they have conclusive results.”

Your dad clears his throat, looking at you for another second before he nods and steps away. “Then it sounds like we should get going.” 

Spencer nods, starting to move again. “I’ll pack my things up.” 

“I guess I’ll do the same,” you say, but your dad puts a hand on your arm. It’s just as much a surprise to him as it is to you, and you freeze in place. 

He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead watching to ensure Spencer is out of range. Once he’s sure, he looks at you—he seems to realize his hand on your arm, because he drops it just as quickly. 

“I mean it when I want you to know that you can talk to me,” your dad says softly. “About this, of course, but also anything else.” 

You raise your eyebrows, and he huffs in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I know I haven’t always been there. More often than not. I hate that it took until now to fully face the facts.”

“Dad, you don’t have to do this—” you start murmuring, but he shakes his head. 

“I do. I’m the reason you’re in this mess. I’m the reason you’re…” He trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“So fucked up?” 

“No,” he says forcefully. “No. There is nothing wrong with you. You need to know that—and you need to know that I love you.”

You can’t help the way your eyes widen ever so slightly. Your father has never been an emotional man, at least not in front of you—

“Thank you,” you say, because you don’t know what else to say. “I— I love you too.”

He nods a few times, looking like he wants to say more. He opens his mouth, but he’s once again interrupted by Spencer calling your name. 

“You left your sweatshirt in my room,” he says. 

“Thanks.” You take it from him and clear your throat, glancing at your dad. “I should probably start packing.”

He looks between the two of you, then nods. “Alright. Move quick, both of you.”

You nod, already starting towards your room. The last thing you really want to talk about with your dad is whatever weird friendship is starting between you and Spencer. So much so that when you hear your dad start to say something to Spencer, you tune it out. 

Too much idle time always lets your mind wander, and you don’t want to give it the chance. You pack as fast as possible, shoving rather than folding your clothes into your duffle. You put your sweatshirt on once you’re done, and you take one last look at the room you’ve spent the last three weeks in. 

Your eyes drift to the window of their own volition and a shiver runs down your spine. 

You won’t miss it. 

Spencer walks in when you’re in the middle of packing your bathroom bag. You see him freeze out of your peripherals. 

“Uh— sorry.” He looks a bit flustered when you turn your full attention on him. “Do you want me to—” 

“I was just finishing up,” you say. “Don’t worry.” 

“Oh.” He stands there still, watching as you put the last few products in your bag. “Are you doing okay?” 

“Seems to be the topic of the day,” you say wryly. 

“Well, yeah,” Spencer says. “It’s the whole reason we’re here.” 

You shake your head with a huff. “I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” 

“Well, I am.” You zip up your bag and look at him. “I’ll be even better once we’re out of here.” 

“A week ago, that would have turned into a full fledged argument,” Spencer notes. 

You shrug. “I guess things have changed.” 

“...I guess so,” he says. 

For a moment, all you do is stare at each other. Spencer’s eyes are filled with the usual concern, but a different kind than the one than Gideon’s. It weighs on your father, heavier than anything—it does something else entirely to Spencer, something you can’t quite place. 

“Thank you for last night, by the way.” You glance away, finally at your breaking point with eye contact. “It… it helped.” 

“I’m glad,” Spencer says. “I want to get you through this.” 

“Then finish packing up so we can get out of here, huh?” You feel like you have to break whatever’s in the air, a strange sort of tension that’s been popping up between you two too often lately. You’d almost prefer the arguments to this, if it weren’t for how upset they seemed to make Spencer. 

“Of course,” he says. “You should probably finish your coffee before we leave, though.” 

“Because of the benefits of black coffee,” you nod. 

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want to deal with you when you’re going through caffeine withdrawal.” 

You actually laugh at that, and his lips quirk in a smile. “Spencer Reid, was that a joke?” 

“No,” he says. “It’s serious. I’m scared of you.” 

You laugh again, and you shoulder your way past him. “Alright, boy genius. Finish packing before I throw your things out the door myself.” 

You feel his eyes on you as you leave and you don’t look back. But for once, you leave the room smiling. 

-

The ride back goes smoother than the ride over. A few members of the forensics team took your spare car back—your dad didn’t want to split the three of you up, especially during a time like this—so you’re all together, but there are no arguments, which is more than anyone can ask for. 

Your dad talks more about the team’s process and what they’ve been up to while you and Spencer were isolated. You don’t like that they’ve been tearing into every part of your life, but you don’t really have much control over it at this point. 

It mostly consists of Spencer talking with your dad, catching up on everything he’s missed. They talk a lot about the profile the team has made, about possible suspects and leads and things you don’t know if you’ll understand. You stare out the window for most of the ride, trying your best to tune them out. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but you don’t care. You just want this all to be over so your life can go back to normal. You miss your kids, your classroom, Friday night drinks with your coworkers—god, you miss sunlight, as pathetic as it sounds. You want to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder, but even after this is over you think you’ll stay paranoid for a while. 

You make it back to the BAU with little pomp, which you’re thankful for. Spencer is still talking with your dad while you’re exiting the car, and you open the trunk to get your things. You reach for your duffle, but you instead hit another hand. 

You look over at Spencer, who, for once, isn’t already looking at you.  

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Getting your bag,” he says. “Do you need to get your eyes checked?” 

“Why are you getting my bag?” you ask instead. 

“Because I want to.” Spencer takes it out and your hand falls off of his, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “I thought we were past this stage of our friendship.” 

“I don’t need you to do things for me when I can do them myself,” you say. 

He shrugs. “If I want to, why would I make you?” 

Spencer doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he grabs his suitcase and walks towards the building, and you stare at your dad. 

“Is he always like this?” 

“You just spent two weeks with him,” he says. “You tell me.” 

You scoff and shake your head, choosing to just file in beside your dad. “You’re both ridiculous.” 

Spencer, meanwhile, is trying to cope with his brain going into overload. 

It’s not just enough that he has to deal with this case. Spencer has solved 17 stalking cases with the team since he joined the FBI, and he’s read about a lot more. And as everyone likes to keep bringing up, he’s already played the bodyguard role once and it went fine. Mostly. 

Honestly, solving the case would be the easy part if you weren’t involved in it, because you are the hard part. You’re a loose cannon, an enigma—your story is more similar to Spencer’s than you would like to admit, and yet he still doesn’t know what to ever expect from you. 

Being back in the BAU doesn’t help. He walks in with you and Gideon in tow, and all eyes are immediately on them. Morgan stands up first with a grin on his face. 

“Pretty boy, back in the land of the living,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” 

“I’ve been in the land of the living this whole time,” Spencer says. “The goal of the safe house was for both of us to stay alive, and it worked.” 

Morgan just chuckles. “Believe it or not, I missed that.” He looks over at you. “How was rooming with our resident genius?” 

“Just what you’d expect,” you respond. “How was digging into every crack and crevice of my life?” 

“Just what you’d expect,” Morgan echoes. 

“How are you doing?” Elle asks. She stands and leans against her desk, her eyes darting over to Spencer momentarily before landing back on you. 

“As well as I can be,” you say. You really love giving nonanswers. “Actually, uh, Agent Greenaway—”

“Elle,” she interrupts. 

“Elle,” you nod. “Could I… pick your brain for a few minutes? It won’t be long, I—” 

“Of course.” She doesn’t wait for you to finish adding your self-deprecating ending to lighten the load, instead just pushing herself up from the desk to walk over to you. “I have to pick up a few things anyways.” 

“Thank you,” you say, and you fall into step with her as the two of you start going down the hallway. Spencer can’t even hear the beginning of your conversation, and he realizes he’s frowning when Gideon calls after them. 

“Meet us in the conference room when you’re done, Elle!” She gives him a thumbs up without turning, and then Gideon looks at the rest of the bullpen. “That goes for all of you—conference room in ten.” 

The rest of the team nods or says some form of acknowledgement, and he nods with a sigh before walking off. He goes to Hotch’s office instead of his own, probably to discuss things about the case. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Morgan asks. 

“The case,” Spencer says. “Gideon values Hotch’s opinion on everything, and because this case includes his daughter he’s probably doubting himself more. Hotch is a voice of reason to him right now.” 

“Not them,” Morgan says, gesturing down the hallway you walked down. “Them. Elle and your girl.” 

Spencer frowns. “She’s not my girl.” 

“You looked a lot friendlier today than you did a couple weeks ago,” JJ comments from her desk. “You actually had a conversation without fighting, for one.” 

“That doesn’t—”

“Spencer Reid, you’re back and you didn’t immediately come and say hi to me?”

He turns at the interruption to see Penelope speeding over, and he smiles at the sight. He did miss her, especially their morning talks. His days aren’t the same without her. 

“Garcia,” he says. “I missed you!”

“Not enough to stop by first thing,” she huffs. “What are we gossiping about?”

“We’re not gossiping—”

“Pretty boy and Baby Gideon,” Morgan interrupts. “They’re kinda having a thing.”

“We are not!” Spencer tries to defend himself but he doesn’t even think Garcia hears him. 

“Oh my god!” she nearly squeals, and she hits Spencer on the arm. “I knew there was a vibe!”

“There is no vibe!” he complains. 

“There was some pretty thick tension between the two of you when you came in here,” JJ muses.

“How could there be tension?” Spencer protests. 

“You were carrying her bag,” Morgan points out. 

“Because Gideon makes me—”

“She smiled at you,” JJ adds. 

Spencer scoffs. “She never smiles.”

“You’re talking about her right now like you know her,” Garcia continues. 

“We were just in a house for three weeks together!” 

“Definitely enough time to fall in love,” Morgan says. 

“You’re all ridiculous,” Spencer insists. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“Yes, you do.” He looks up to see Hotch and Gideon standing together at the top of the bullpen right by the stairs, and he’s never been so thankful to be called out by his bosses. “I hope you’ve gotten all your gossiping out. Conference room in five.”

“And stop teasing Reid,” Gideon says. “He did me a favor.”

Spencer nods thankfully as the two of them walk away, and he wipes his clammy hands on his dress pants. His button-up is a little wrinkled, but in his defense, there wasn’t an iron back at the safe house. You probably would have made fun of him for using it. 

“What are you smiling about?” Morgan asks. 

Spencer blinks, broken out of his reverie. “Nothing. I, uh— I’m gonna grab coffee.” 

He still feels their eyes on him as he speeds his way out of the conversation, can hear but not fully make out the whispers between them all. Worst of all, when he presses the palm of his hand to his cheek, it feels like he’s running a fever. 

Honestly, Spencer hopes he’s sick. At least he’d have an excuse for why he’s acting so irrationally. 

He can only imagine what you and Elle are talking about. 

-

Elle is smart enough to wait until the two of you have gotten a decent way down the hall. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

“No small talk?” 

“I don’t really like it,” she says. 

You nod. “Me neither. So thanks, I guess.” 

You sigh and wring your hands, trying to figure out the way to word your multitude of thoughts. Eventually, you decide to start at the most pressing matter. 

“He was there,” you say. “At the house. My… my stalker.” 

“So I heard,” she murmurs. “How are you holding up?” 

“People keep asking me that and I never know what to say.” You shrug. “I— I just am, I guess. 

“That’s fine too,” she says. “A lot of times, people don’t know how they feel until it’s all over, when they finally have time to sit down and let the dust settle.” 

“I’m angry, a- and scared, and really annoyed that this is still going on,” you say. “I’m pissed that this guy thinks he has any right to do this to me, th- that he thinks we’re anything alike.” You wrap your arms around your midsection, trying to ward off the sudden chill you feel. “I just want this to be over so I can stop feeling like everyone’s pity project.” 

“Let me guess,” Elle says. “You’re tired of feeling weak and like you’re at everyone’s mercy, and you hate that you have to rely on your dad for all of this.” 

You chuckle weakly. “Bullseye.” 

“I think the two of us are pretty similar,” she says. “And I know that for me, there’s nothing more frustrating than not being able to solve my own problems.” 

“Well, what’s the solution?” you ask. “Because I’m tired of feeling tired.” 

Elle sighs. “Sometimes you have to accept that you can’t control everything. You have to trust in your dad and our team.” 

You huff. “That’s harder than it sounds.” 

“Believe me, I know.” Elle glances at you. “But you’re going to drive yourself crazy otherwise, and I don’t really wanna lose you.” 

You smile at that. “Thanks. I like you too.” 

Elle laughs and the two of you continue walking, the silence surprisingly comfortable for someone you’ve only talked to twice. 

“You know,” Elle breaks the silence, and you look over at her, “a couple of people around the office were taking bets on you and Reid.”

“What?” you ask, maybe a little too defensively. “Why?” 

“We had this stalker case a while ago and Reid had to guard the girl, just like you,” Elle says. “They ended up making out in a pool before the case was over.” 

Your eyes widen so much you think they might pop out of your head. “What?” 

Elle laughs and nods. “Yeah. That actress, Lila Archer. She had a thing for him, but it didn’t really go anywhere. Pictures would have gotten plastered all over the tabloids if it weren’t for Gideon.”

You’re still trying to process the fact that Spencer Reid, the same guy who set off the smoke alarm by burning toast and fumbles his words when he’s around you and spouts off facts like a human encyclopedia at a moment’s notice, made out with a famous actress — and his team was betting whether it would happen with you too. 

No wonder he kept bringing up a damn pool. You feel your cheeks heat and you hope Elle can’t tell—you’re suddenly going through every single interaction you’ve had with Spencer, in private and public.

God, being around profilers is a nightmare. You suddenly want to avoid your dad even more.  

“I didn’t take him for that kind of person,” you finally manage. 

“He’s not, really. Was just a spur of the moment thing, I think.” Elle shrugs. “Seems Reid likes you, though.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you say hastily. 

“Give yourself some credit,” she says. “And some slack, too. Reid’s… pretty easy to—” 

The two of you are interrupted by someone calling both of your names, and you turn to see JJ standing at the bend. “Gideon wants us in the conference room.” She looks at you. “He said you can wait in his office.” 

You nod, and Elle looks at you. “You know where to go?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks for the talk.” 

“Any time,” she says, and she pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to you. It’s her business card, with her number at the bottom. “And I mean that.” 

You swallow the gratitude that swells in your chest and you nod a few more times. “Thank you. Seriously.” 

She smiles and walks off to meet JJ, and you stare at the card in your hand for a few more seconds before you shove it into your pocket. 

Two friends and a stalker. 

It could be worse.