#because it's my third lesson plan

[poetryintheraw]

I submitted my lesson plan. Now it's simply a waiting game of "will I die before or after I receive the grade".

[mr-mustache-penis]

the idea that i might be publishing klance fic in the year 2023 is WILD bro...

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 2)

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: sprinkling anthony bridgerton references in this because wreck my plans that's my man!! anyways this is actually going to be 3 parts because i have zero self control and ended up writing 15k words in total and im trying to see whether i like posting parts or doing one whole one shot more so there's going to be a third part. but for once in my writer life i have the whole thing written so it will be out in a couple days! have no idea how this fic became this long out of nowhere but i hope you all enjoy lol. stressed reader x calm bf will always be famous on this blog

wc: 4.9k

warning(s): almost cheating? fiyero is still w/ galinda for most of this so the line is very blurred but they dont cross it lmao. the slightest bit of angst but basically all fluff

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero spread his arms out as you took a seat in the grass. Idly, you wondered about getting grass stains out before he started talking again. “Fresh air, actual sunlight, and things to look at other than words on a page.”

“I do go outside,” you said wryly. “You act like I’m some hermit.”

He shrugged. “I only ever see you in class or at the library.”

“I’m just there most of the time,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m not this smart by slacking off.”

Fiyero said your name with surprise. “Was that a joke?”

You laughed again. “Hardly.”

“I think it was,” he nodded. “You really are learning how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun!” you exclaimed. “We just have different ideas of fun!”

“And what is your idea of fun?” Fiyero asked pointedly. “Studying? Attending class? Going through the intricacies of various languages?”

“That last one is very fun,” you defended. 

“How did you decide on linguistics anyways?” he asked. “You’re incredibly passionate about something I didn’t even know was a major here.”

“It’s not, technically.” You shrugged. “I’m a history major. I just convinced Doctor Dillamond to let me be his teacher’s assistant so I could include more linguistics lessons in the syllabus.”

“How do you do it?” he asked. “Oz— why do you do it? You’re stressed all the time. Surely taking one less class or not being a TA wouldn’t kill you. All of this seems like it is.” 

“I’m not like you, Fiyero,” you said. “I can’t get kicked out of a hundred schools and still be fine. I’ve got one chance, and if I squander it, then I’ve also squandered my dream. And that’s unacceptable to me.”

“There’s always second chances,” he said. “And third ones, too. Sometimes even fourth.” 

“Maybe for a prince,” you laughed. “But not for somebody like me.” 

“And just who are you?” Fiyero asked as he sat down next to you. “I know you’re Gillikinese and I know you’re probably going to succeed in whatever you attempt. But I still feel like I don’t know anything about who you are without the school uniform.” 

“Why does that matter?” you asked defensively. “We’re project partners, not friends.” 

“Because I’d very much like us to be friends,” he answered simply. 

That might have been the most shocking thing he’d said all day. Fiyero Tigelaar, Winkie prince and self-declared slacker and desired paramour of nearly every Shiz student, said he wanted to be your friend. 

Again, that warmth bloomed inside you. You tried to ignore it—tried to fully banish it. 

“Don’t do this,” you said, looking away from him. 

“Do what?”

“Act like you like me,” you said, stronger this time. “You— you do it with everyone, and that’s fine, but don’t do it with me.” 

“I’m not following,” Fiyero said. 

You glared at him. “I know you aren’t this daft.”

“Apologies,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out how you figured I don’t genuinely like you.”

You blinked. “Because you’re you. You flirt with everybody so you can dance through life.”

“Of course,” Fiyero agreed. “It just so happens that I genuinely like you in addition.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why?”

His laugh was nothing but shocked. “Are you asking me why I like you?”

“Well,” you glanced away with a huff, “when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.” 

“I’ll bite anyways,” Fiyero said. “I like you because you know what you want. You never really stop talking about it, honestly.”

“Are you trying to compliment me?”

“You’re intelligent and driven and you don’t shy away from anything you want,” he continued. “And you thoroughly vex me in near every encounter we have, most joyously.”

“…So you like me because I’m stubborn and confusing,” you said. 

Fiyero sighed. “You‘ve got some serious self esteem issues.”

“I do not!” you exclaimed.

“You’ve tied your worth to your academic achievement,” he said. “You can’t see all the good you’ve already done, how smart you truly are, because you only stress about the next thing you need to do. You’d rather lose your mind over what’s to come than realize all you’ve got in the moment.”

Your mouth opened and closed for a good five seconds, like a fish out of water, before it snapped shut. 

“I thought you were supposed to be brainless,” you settled on. 

“I am,” Fiyero agreed with a chuckle. “But I also know people better than most, and our study sessions have given me ample time to study you.”

Great Oz, why was your face so hot? You felt like you were burning up from the inside out. Fiyero Tigelaar was killing you, and slowly at that. 

“Why are you studying me?” you asked pointedly. 

“Because you’re interesting,” he said. “And very beautiful.”

“Well, I’m— I’m glad we’ve finally reached a truce.” You tried to sound as casual as possible—you couldn’t let Fiyero know the full effect he was beginning to have on you. You didn’t think he would ever shut up about that, and Galinda certainly wouldn’t either. You didn’t want to make an enemy of her. “It’ll make this project much easier.”

“Yes,” Fiyero mused. “I believe it will.”

Amusement, and maybe something warmer, danced in his irises. A very small part of you wanted to let yourself fall, freely and uncaring, just as every other student did. 

You had to lock that part of you away, never to be seen again. You didn’t like Fiyero. He was still a nuisance in every single sense of the word. 

You swallowed, trying to cure your cottonmouth. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

You needed to finish this essay immediately. 

-

You sighed when you heard a knock on your door. Coralie, for how smart she was, had a habit of forgetting her room key—so much so that you’d stopped bothering to lock the door on the days she went to class before you. 

“It’s unlocked, Cora!” you called out. You didn’t want to get up from your desk, not when you were in the middle of writing. You were worried that you would lose the thread of inspiration you’d finally caught the moment you got out of your chair. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” a familiar voice said. “All sorts of miscreants could get in.” 

Your hand slipped in your shock, but you couldn’t even be annoyed about smearing the fresh ink on the page or getting it on your shirt cuffs because you had more important things to worry about. Namely, your surprise visitor. 

“Fiyero?” 

“Present,” he affirmed as he leaned against your doorframe. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Thank you,” you said. “What are you doing here?” 

“Much less pink than Galinda’s,” he continued. “I think it’s the only color she owns, honestly. A bit absurd but—” 

“What are you doing here?” you repeated. 

“I should be asking you that question,” Fiyero said, eyes narrowing in on you. “I went to the library and you weren’t there.” 

You cleared your throat. “I was giving you the day off.” 

He frowned and stood up from the doorframe. “Who said I wanted the day off?” 

“You,” you said. “When you didn’t show up to Doctor Dillamond’s class today.” 

Fiyero brushed his hand through the air. “That’s different.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “So you skipped the class this project is for, but you don’t want to skip the actual project.” 

“That sounds about right, yes.” 

“You don’t even do anything whenever we’re together,” you said. “You just stare at me and complain about doing work and ask me about my life and take an hour to write one page of notes.” 

“That also sounds about right,” Fiyero said. “I enjoy your presence. Do you not enjoy mine?” 

If only he knew the way he’d been making you feel for the past week. He could never know that he appeared in your dream last night. 

“...Your presence is fine,” you said. “I just figured I would give you the day off, seeing as we only have one week left until it’s due.” 

“How much have you written already without me?” he asked. 

“Five pages, but that—” 

“You’ve nearly done half of the project without me?” Fiyero interrupted. 

“...Yes?” Why did you actually feel bad about this? 

Fiyero got closer so he could look over your shoulder at your work, and you found yourself holding your breath at his proximity. 

“Do you think you’re doing me a favor?” 

“Clearly,” you said. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner it’s over, and the sooner you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” You shrugged. “You said you wanted to ride my coattails anyways, so I figured I would make it easier for you.” 

“Just a few days ago you were chastising me for not doing my part,” Fiyero said. “Now you’re not even letting me try?” 

“I—” the words stuck in your throat, and again you felt your face heat. 

I don’t want to have to think about any of this more than I have to because I’m worried what I’ll realize. 

I don’t want to give you any more chances to take me off course because I know I’ll say yes. 

I don’t want to be around you longer than I have to because I think I’m starting to like you. 

“Yes?” 

“I am doing you a favor,” you finally decided. “You don’t have to worry about it. Go ride that horse of yours, or bother other students, or spend time with Galinda. You’ve earned it.” 

“Hardly,” Fiyero said. “I’m doing my part, whether you like it or not. We’ll meet at the library tomorrow morning before class like we’ve been doing.” 

“I have class at 8 in the morning tomorrow.” 

“...Then we’ll do it after class,” he reneged. “I do need my beauty sleep.” 

That got a smile out of you, which spurned one from Fiyero in turn. “I think that is one of the only genuine smiles you’ve given me since we started working together.” 

“I smile plenty,” you insisted. 

“At your books,” Fiyero said. “Not at me.” 

“That’s because my books are oh-so-beautiful,” you said. “And they don’t even need beauty sleep.”

He placed his hand on his heart. “You wound me.” 

Your smile grew and you set your pen down. “The library after class?” 

Fiyero nodded and tapped on your desk as he stood up. “Library after class.” 

He was about to go to the door when Coralie poked her head in. “Why is the door— oh! Fiyero!” She straightened up, plastering on a pretty smile as she stepped inside. “What brings you to our corner of Shiz?” 

“Doctor Dillamond’s midterm,” he said. “Your roommate here is trying to save all of the fun for herself.” 

“That sounds like her,” Cora nodded sagely. “You’re very good to try and keep her from that fate.”

Fiyero pressed his hand to his chest. “I consider it my duty. But I apologize for the intrusion—I’ll leave the two of you be.”

“Oh, stay as long as you want,” she spoke up. “I’m sure your partner wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s got things to do,” you interceded. “You’ve got things to do, Fiyero.”

He smiled knowingly. “I certainly do. You lovely ladies have a fine rest of your day.” He looked at you and said your name. “Don’t forget tomorrow.”

“How could I?” you said weakly. 

Fiyero chuckled and bowed his head in lieu of more parting words. The second he left, Cora turned to you with wide eyes. 

“Don’t,” you warned. 

“He came here to talk to you!” she exclaimed. “He found out your room number because he wanted to talk to you!” 

“Be quiet!” you exclaimed. “The door is still open—he can probably hear your screeching!”

Coralie shut the door and squealed. “He likes you!”

“We are project partners,” you enunciated. “Nothing more.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what you think,” she said. “Just like I’m sure that he wants to be more.” 

“You’re acting like he isn’t with Galinda,” you said. “She controls this whole school—do you remember what happened to Elphaba when she didn’t like her?” 

Cora shrugged. “Sure. But I’ve been hearing there’s trouble in paradise.” 

That got you paying attention. “What?” 

“I knew it!” Coralie exclaimed—nearly yelled, honestly. “I knew you liked him!” 

“Be quiet!” you whisper-yelled. “Oz, what is wrong with you?” 

“I knew you liked him!” she repeated. “And he likes you— oh, it is too perfect!” 

“He does not like me,” you insisted, “and you are crazy.” 

“You didn’t say that you didn’t like him,” Coralie sung, and you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Fine!” you finally said. “Fine— I like him. Will you stop now?”

“Of course not,” she said, and you sighed. “How bad do you have it?”

“I don’t have it bad,” you scoffed. “I just— I enjoy spending time with him. And I think he’s kind of cute.” 

“Oh, you are full on head over heels,” she mused. “You just don’t know it. It’s okay.” 

You groaned as you buried your head in your hands. “I hate you.” 

She laughed. “And you like Fiyero.” 

“Shut up.” Your words were muffled, but you meant them all the same. 

You were comically doomed. 

-

The next day went… shockingly smooth. 

Fiyero was in the library when he said he’d be—he was even there before you, much to your surprise and he still had the notebook and pen you’d given him, much to his surprise. He made sure to bring an extra canteen of water for you, because he noticed you never had any with you. You were probably concerningly dehydrated. 

He tried to be a more attentive student to you than he’d ever been at any of his classes—not that that was difficult. You explained your outline and all the work you’d already done, what he could do on the last five pages and how to make his writing voice match yours to make a consistent paper. 

He wrote notes both on what you knew about Ilara Mayfair (a ridiculous amount, in his opinion) and anything else you thought he needed to know (also a ridiculous amount).

He was impressed most of all, though. No wonder you’d isolated yourself from near the entire student body and stressed over every letter in every sentence in every assignment. You were incredibly intelligent, but you were also able to explain everything in a way that even he understood. Fiyero had never really cared about… well, anything relating to school before he ended up partners with you. 

But now, Fiyero found himself surprisingly entranced by it all. He’d always liked your voice, and he had a permanent smile on his lips watching you talk so easily about your passions. It put a spark in your eye and a brightness about you that was usually bogged down by everything else that you stressed about. 

You were beautiful, especially when you were happy. And Fiyero had discovered over the past week that you were happiest when you got to talk about what you cared about to an interested audience. He only regretted acting like he wasn’t interested for so long. 

Finally, when Fiyero called a break on account of his hands aching (he’d never written this much in his life, and it still was only half of what you did basically every day), and you were eating an apple (that he also brought, because you really didn’t take care of yourself when you were doing work, which was always), he smiled at you. 

“You know, we really do make a good team,” Fiyero said. 

You swallowed the bite of apple you had in your mouth and cocked your head as you looked at him. “You think?” 

“I know,” he nodded. “You’ve done the impossible, darling. You’ve actually made me care about school.” 

“Well, I think you’ve done the impossible too.” You lifted the apple up. “You made me care about my health during midterms season.” 

“It certainly wasn’t easy,” he said wryly. “You kind of took it all kicking and screaming.”

You shrugged. “I’m not top of our class for nothing.” 

“Do you have to stress yourself into misery to be top of the class?” he asked. 

“I’m not miserable,” you retorted. 

It was when you said things like that that Fiyero really began to worry about you. It was part of the reason he was so intent on staying by your side through this whole project—no matter how dull he found the material—after the first session. He sometimes saw you around campus, usually carrying a stack of books or talking with your roommate.

After Fiyero was paired with you, he wondered why he didn’t see you more before it all, considering how active you were with literally everything school-wise. Then he realized you were likely always in the library, and the only time he’d visited the library was on Galinda’s tour. You were there, well enough, but you took your leave as soon as things started getting rowdy. 

A shame, he realized. He wondered what your relationship could have been had Galinda not staked her claim on him so soon. 

You weren’t going to take care of yourself, clearly enough, so Fiyero decided—at least for the duration of this project—that he would. It didn’t really matter if you were top of the class if you passed out from stress, exhaustion, annoyance, or a mix of all three. Likely a mix of all three. 

He didn’t really anticipate those feelings morphing into genuine affection. 

“I seem to recall you saying you dream of your future assignments,” Fiyero said, coming out of his thoughts. “That doesn’t sound like the habit of a happy person.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Everybody has stress dreams.” 

“You know, I really don’t think they do,” Fiyero said. 

You rolled your eyes as you picked your pen up with your free hand and jotted down a few more sentences. “Sure.”

“On that note,” he said, “why don’t we call it a day?”

“We can’t call it a day,” you said. You took another bite from your apple and swallowed, continuing to write all the while without looking at him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“That is the most casually you’ve said that so far,” Fiyero mused. “I really am making progress.”

You laughed, finally paying him mind. “Progress with what?”

“I’ve been tracking your smiles and laughs this whole time,” he said. “See, this essay was your project, but that was mine—trying to make you enjoy your life.”

“This essay is both of our projects, Fiyero,” you said. “Besides, I don’t think Doctor Dillamond will accept your bar graph of all the times I laughed at you making a fool of yourself.” You frowned. “Or would it be a line graph because it’s over time? Or maybe it could be—”

“Alright,” he interrupted. “You’re going into hypotheticals on my joke. That’s clearly the sign that we need to call it a day.”

“…Fine,” you reneged. “But it’s just a break, not calling it a day. And I get to finish proofreading the rest of the essay when we get back.”

“A compromise,” Fiyero said. “Love it.”

You rolled your eyes as you started gathering your things. “You love everything.” 

“Eh,” he tilted his head, and you felt his eyes on you. “Most things.” 

You couldn’t help your smile, much as you tried to bite it back. “Whatever.” 

Soon enough, you and Fiyero were sitting together by the dock. You let your legs dangle over as you watched the scenery around campus—the ripple of the water, the gentle brush of the wind, the chirping birds that flew around without a care.

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero asked. He also had his legs over the edge, but he’d laid down against the stone. 

“You don’t have to push your relaxation propaganda so hard anymore,” you said wryly. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“And I’m grateful for it,” he said. “Someone that works as hard as you do deserves to relax the same amount.” 

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times—”

“I know,” he interrupted. He turned his head to smile at you. “I just have to hope that some of it sticks.” 

You rolled your eyes, once again unable to hide your smile. “And I have to hope for the same with this paper. Do you think you’ll remember any of this once we turn it in?”

“Oh, but of course. You were the one to teach it to me, after all. I could hardly forget it all.” 

“Good,” you said. “Everyone should know about Ilara Mayfair.” 

Fiyero chuckled, and you once again fell into comfortable silence. 

That was the thing that shocked you the most, you think. Not that you were beginning to like Fiyero, or that you actually liked Fiyero, or that you actually looked forward to spending time with him. It was that you were so comfortable just sitting with him in silence. 

It was very difficult to get to the silence, though. Fiyero couldn’t really stay quiet, and you didn’t know if he liked talking or the sound of his own voice. But you found it didn’t really annoy you like it used to. 

Great Oz. You really were into him. How embarrassing. 

Eventually, when the strain in your wrists and fingers from writing had finally faded, you turned your head to look at Fiyero. “I think it’s time we go back.”

He sighed. “Already?” 

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” you said. “Far longer than the breaks I usually take.” 

He opened his mouth, likely to say something of the same ‘you need to relax’ ilk, but you held up your hand. “Don’t. Just be thankful you got me away for this long.” 

Fiyero smiled, and he pulled himself up off the ground. “I always am.” 

He held his hand out, and you stared at him for a moment. “Why do you always do that?” 

“Help you up?” 

You nodded. “I can do it myself.” 

He shrugged. “I told you it was my project to make your life easier.” 

“You said it was your project to track my happiness,” you said. 

“And they go hand in hand,” he said. “I’m surprised you remember.” 

“It happened thirty minutes ago, Fiyero,” you said wryly. “Besides, I remember everything. It’s a gift.” 

Fiyero laughed, and you finally took his hand. He pulled you up and once again, you tumbled a bit too close—and again, his hand fell to your waist. He had to be doing this on purpose by now. 

“We keep finding ourselves in this position,” Fiyero mused. 

Heat flooded your cheeks like usual. “And whose fault is that?” 

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re not exactly pulling away.” 

Your mouth opened, trying to think of what words to say when your head was reeling from his mere presence. But then you saw a flash of pink in the background, and your eyes darted away from Fiyero. 

Galinda. She was distracted, talking with Pfannee and Shenshen as she went down the stairs. Oz, how did she slip your mind so easily whenever Fiyero was in your proximity? Why did you let him get this close when he was spoken for? 

You panicked—nothing less. You tore out of Fiyero’s grasp with a bit too much gumption, and then you stumbled, then you slipped, and then you fell. Fiyero called your name in shock, reaching his hand out, but it was too late. You’d plunged into the water before you could save yourself. 

The cold water instantly shocked all your senses, your eyes widening as you gasped out on instinct. Your mouth filled with water and your muscles seized up from the change in temperature—it was so much deeper than you’d imagined, and all your layers of clothing weighing you down were of no use. 

You tried your damnedest to ignore the alarm bells going off in your head as you fought against yourself, finally gathering the sense to swim. You kicked your way up to the top, gasping for air once when you breached the surface. 

You heard Fiyero yell your name again and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the water from your eyes. When everything finally came into focus, you saw him on his knees, his coat shed and his sleeves rolled up. 

His eyes were wide as he reached his hand out, once again saying your name—this time with a certain desperation. “Are you alright?”

You tried to respond but all you could do was cough, trying to expel the water from your lungs. You took his hand and he helped pull you up onto the dock, where an exhale shuddered out of you.

“I— I am so sorry,” he stammered. It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered, and you were too busy hacking up a lung to point it out. “Obviously I didn’t think—”

You held up your hand in lieu of saying something, as you didn’t think you could say something. 

This was so stupid, and it was something that never would have happened before you and Fiyero started working together. Your paper was due in two days, you’d only just finished the draft, you still had so much proofreading and rewriting to do, and instead, you were here on the docks soaked to the bone. 

And you found yourself laughing. 

“Oh, Oz,” Fiyero said. “You’ve lost it.” 

You couldn’t refute it, because you kept laughing. You could feel the eyes of your classmates on you, could hear them whispering to each other—likely making fun of you—and it only made you laugh harder. 

“Are—” Fiyero chuckled nervously as he said your name, “are you okay?” 

“I’m soaked,” you got out through your laughs. “And everyone saw me fall into the water. I’m a fool, Fiyero!” 

He was still staring at you in that careful way, as if you were made of glass. “I can’t tell if you’re mad or not.” 

“Oh, Fiyero.” You wiped the trailing water off of your face and wrapped your arms around him. You felt him freeze beneath you for the slightest moment—it had to have been the last thing he expected you to do. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Fiyero returned the hug, his movements still unsure. He didn’t seem to care that you were getting him wet, just about your wellbeing. “What— what for, exactly?” 

For a moment, you couldn’t look away. His blue eyes were meant to enrapture, his soft lips typically an invitation sealed with a smirk. But for once, Fiyero looked genuine—he wasn’t putting on a performance, or trying to seduce anyone who looked at him. He was genuinely sorry, genuinely confused. It only made you laugh again.

“What for, indeed.” A higher voice pierced through the air, and you separated from Fiyero immediately. Galinda, to no surprise, had found her way over to the chaos you’d created, her compatriots flanking her on either side. She smiled at you brightly, but her whole demeanor was like a violin string pulled taut. 

“Galinda,” Fiyero said. “Lovely to see you.” He didn’t seem half as shocked as you at her appearance, but his words fell flat. 

“And you as well, dearest.” Her smile turned sickly sweet as she shifted her attention to Fiyero momentarily, taking the opportunity to lace her fingers with his and pull him into a kiss. He pulled away first, but if it affected Galinda, she didn’t let it show when she looked back at you. She batted her eyelashes as she said your name incorrectly. “What was it you were saying?” 

The sudden combination of cottonmouth and sour guilt creeping up your throat didn’t really help your already flustered state. She knew what she was doing—but you did too, didn’t you? 

She was with Fiyero. You knew that. And though Fiyero danced across the line, you took his hand every time he offered. 

“I—” you cleared your throat, attempting a casual smile of your own. “Just that I know why Doctor Dillamond put us together.”

“Excellent,” Fiyero said. “Off-topic, but excellent— are you sure you didn’t hit your head down there?” 

“Perhaps you should go to the nurse,” Galinda said. “I’m sure Shenshen could—” 

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted, your smile tightening ever so slightly. You looked at Fiyero. “Meet me at the library tonight, and bring coffee. We’re finishing this project tonight. 

“Of course,” he nodded.  

You nodded as well, and you started to go. Galinda’s gaze was sugary sweet poison, and you couldn’t take the weight of it anymore. 

“Wait,” Fiyero spoke up. 

You stopped against your better judgment, and he let go of Galinda’s hand to take his jacket off. He moved closer to you and wrapped it around you. His touch, light but certain, lingered on your shoulders once he’d finished adjusting it, and his gaze stayed on yours 

“Until you can change,” he said. 

“...Thank you,” you said. 

Galinda cleared her throat extremely loudly, her taut smile back. You remembered yourself and stepped away from Fiyero. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” you said, already starting on your way. You wouldn’t let him stop you again. 

“Tonight,” he agreed, bowing his head in parting. 

You only glanced back once you were by the stairs. When you did, you saw Galinda speaking rapidly to Fiyero—you were too far away to hear anything, but she didn’t look happy. When your gaze drifted to him, you found he was already looking at you. Almost subconsciously, you tugged his jacket tighter around you. When you realized what you were doing, you stopped. You averted your eyes immediately and hurried up the stairs. 

You weren’t out of breath from exertion. 

[janmisali]

jan Misali series 2025 status report, "please don't ask me about these unless you have an actual question beyond 'when is the next one' or 'is this series dead'" edition

finannual meme mashups: officially over. 2024 was the last one, unless I decide to do another whole-decade mashup at the end of 2029 (I probably won't).

toki pona lessons: fully intend to get back to this eventually! however the increasingly impatient comments demanding more of this series have successfully completely destroyed my motivation to put work into this series. I do genuinely promise to get back to it as soon as people stop asking for it. that's not a bit.

Conlang Critic: on indefinite hiatus. I'm not going to say it's over, but I have no current plans to make any more of it. but maybe someday!

how many Super Mario games are there?: well for starters I'm still not fully recovered from the "basking" phase of making hmsmgatn. but also this series is "over" until enough things happen to justify a sequel. (and no, I'm not going to do the same concept with another series.)

retconlang: canceled. the pilot did not perform well, and I overwhelmingly got more people saying a generic "please make more of this!" or "when is the next episode?" than any actual positive feedback on the video

the wāw saga: it's weird that people in annoying comments have been grouping this in with the other series because like, unlike the others there isn't any indication in the videos themselves that this is a series I have ever intended to continue beyond those two videos? I do have nebulous ideas for a third installment in the trill-ogy, but that's not something I'm actively planning or working on.

Wario Faces Consequences for His Actions: took a break when Move It! was announced, and haven't been able to regain momentum. I'd love to get back to this, but I just haven't yet.

kijetesumikyoku: the toki pona community needs to hurry up and make more music for me to sample, there's still not enough out there to make a third one of these

tumblr polls: I will literally never run out of ideas for tumblr polls. this series will continue until tumblr physically stops me from making them

[hrts4nagi]

best friends brother!

my best friend's brother is the one for me!

pairing :: itoshi sae x gn!reader (short implied)

synopsis :: third year of high school and graduation is right around the corner! you have so many great and upcoming things up ahead. some planned and some unplanned.

what definitely wasn’t planned was falling for itoshi sae, more commonly known as your best friend’s brother.

what a way to break the pact.

wc :: 2.3k

extra :: i love the victorious sound track!!!! p.s listen to best friend's brother for a better experience :>

the best friend pact - rules:

#1 - always be happy for each other

#2 what was number two again?

#3 - do not fall for your itoshi sae

SUCCESS FAILED

shit.

well, to be completely fair it’s not like you meant to fall for itoshi sae right? it’s not like you were always searching for him as soon as you entered the room. it’s not like you didn’t mean to get lost in his gorgeous teal eyes. or the way you’d get sneak a peek at his abs whenever he had to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

who am i kidding?

you’re completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. did i mention he was your best friend’s brother?

who knew a pact made 12 years ago would be the sole cause of your distress?

the rules have gotten fuzzy over the years but the one clear rule rin emphasized every time was to not fall for sae. he claimed it was because they have the same eyes, eyelashes, and name. he thinks it would be the equivalent of you dating him.

and he does not like the sound of that.

-

“reo i’m so screwed!” you flop onto his king-sized mattress rolling around face covering your eyes.

“hey! at least change out of your uniform before rolling around in my bed.” he scolds.

you stuck out your tongue at him in response earning a scoff back. “i wish i could lay here all day," you sigh contently.

“that’s what i’ve been saying,” you yelp not noticing the white-haired boy under the covers.

gasping, you clutch your chest in shock. “what the hell, nagi? have you been here this whole time?”

“yah, you woke me up the second you landed on me.”

he rubs his eyes before sitting up. “hey, y/n while you’re here can you make those buldak noodles you always make? i really want something spicy."

“yeah sure, reo do you still any packets left?”

he sighs before pulling some out of the cabinet. “only for you guys.”

you slide a bowl over to nagi and reo. you lean onto the counter awaiting their response, tapping your fingers in anticipation.

“so what's up with ya?”

“stop eating with your mouth full.”

“it's sae.” you frown taking a seat at the counter across from the two.

nagi perks up his head. “oh, so you finally confessed to him?"

you slam your head down onto the counter in frustration.

“i'm taking that as a no.”

you slightly raise your head up to make eye contact with the two. “what do i do? if i act on my feelings, rin will kill me! falling for his older brother is the ultimate betrayal.”

“i don't think you're betraying him, per se,” reo defends. “think of it more like bending the rules a bit!”

“i'm completely breaking the rules reo. the golden rule for that matter!” you argue.

“huh, well that's unfortunate.”

-

study sessions at rin’s was commonplace. having a terrible habit of bad time management and being a professional procrastinator, rin dragged you willingly forcefully to his house after school, to get all the studying done. but don't worry, it came with perks!

#1: free tutor

#2: free snacks

#3: getting an occasional glimpse of sae

"for english, there's a lot of words that have a silent-"

rin's words drown out as you begin daydreaming. losing complete track of rin's current lesson, you turn your head towards the backyard, where you see sae dribbling the ball outside. watching his figure run by every other second.

“you know if you’re gonna stare at my brother, can you at least do it when i’m not in the general vicinity?” rin deadpanned.

“i wasn’t oggling at sae,” raising up your arms in defense.

rin raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “what was i talking about then?”

“uhm,” you ponder attempting to trace back your steps. crap. you were way too focused watching sae to even comprehend what rin was saying. the lesson is completely bleary in your mind.

“about our upcoming exam right!” rin lightly smacked your head with his notebook in response. you rub the area he hit before looking at him with a pout.

“wrong, i was talking about my upcoming game which you’re going to. right?” rin points his pencil at you accusingly.

“yup! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you nestle back into the couch trying to regain focus on the question in front of you. unfortunately, your mind began to wander elsewhere. every time you close your eyes to think of the solution of the equation, the image of sae would flash in your head.

first, you'd see his deep teal eyes, donned with his infamous bottom eyelashes. you swear you could get lost in them all day. next, the shaggy magenta hair that managed to look 100x better when styled down.

what were you doing? aren't you supposed to be studying?

you shut your textbook quickly, startling rin in the process.

“i’ll be back, i think i need a drink.” rin nods in response as you usher to the kitchen.

you sigh looking down at the glass of water, swishing it around. unaware, you turn without realizing there was someone in your pathway. colliding with a hard chest as the glass shatters to the kitchen floor.

you crossed your fingers hoping you didn't bump into last first person you wanted to see.

“woah careful.”

there stands itoshi sae. you notice his hair being slightly damp, presumably from the exercise drills he just completed. you snap out of it, realizing you were staring at him longer than necessary.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you bend down to pick up the broken glass, before you even get the chance to, sae gently swats your hand away.

“careful. don’t want you to hurt yourself,” your cheeks burn at the subtle contact.

he cranes his neck towards you, making eye contact. “it’s okay, i’ll clean it up myself.”

sae slips off his hoodie but not before you take a quick peek at his toned stomach.

you were definitely no better than a man the way you shamelessly watched him. he glances at you while raising an eyebrow before turning away to avoid eye contact once more.

“well, it was nice running into you! sorry about the glass, i have to go back to studying!” you hurry out of the kitchen before sae can even respond.

returning to the living room, rin is surprised to see you all flustered and sweaty. “what happened with you?”

“nothing!”

rin raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. unconcerned, he turns back to his notebook reviewing the material.

-

you swear itoshi sae is doing this on purpose.

every time you're over, you always find yourself in lucky terrible predicaments. last week, you wandered into a seemingly empty bathroom to be met with a shirtless sae. a single towel wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

and what does he do?

he tilts his head at you and continues to brush his teeth, as if you were never there in the first place. when you return to rin’s room, even he's concerned that you might be coming down with a fever from how flushed you were.

just yesterday, you were aiming for a glass on the top shelf. before you knew it, sae was behind you pressing his chest onto your back. he was so close that you could feel the warmth emitting from him and the fresh, crisp scent of his cologne.

it was intoxicating.

nonchalantly, he reminded you to be careful next time as he handed you the glass and walked away. you were left blinking at the action.

itoshi sae was driving you crazy. scratch that, insane. you absolutely had no idea what to do about it.

you think it's absolutely infuriating how itoshi sae remains perfect and composed, sporting the same deadpanned look every time.

meanwhile, you're left a stuttering, blushing mess from each and every interaction. you swear you want to punch his face the next time. (you wouldn't dare to ruin his pretty face)

-

“hey, can you do me a huge favor?”

itoshi rin never asks for favors.

stunned, you continue to listen along, wondering what he has to say.

"you're not going to ask me to kill anyone are you? did isagi really piss you off that bad?"

rin flicks your forehead with irritation.

“sae’s down with a fever," he starts. "neither my mom or i are able to tend to his needs cause of our schedules. you don't have anything to do this afternoon right?”

you slowly nod.

“cool, all you have to do is serve him leftovers my mom left on the stove and make sure he takes his medicine. after that, you're free to go.”

-

you could not do this.

standing in front of the itoshi household suddenly felt foreign to you. a sense of dread washes over you at the thought of the current situation.

what's the worse that can happen being alone with sae?

you didn't want to give it a second thought.

after twenty minutes of back and forth, you managed to enter the kitchen to prepare sae's meal. it didn't take too long, it was a quick and simple task. though, you're unsure why you ended up missing the bowl once or twice, having to clean up the mess.

the tray settled on your hands became ten times heavier from the nerves coursing through your body. you make your way to second floor, your legs feel like jelly. you sure hope none of the sweat droplets from your forehead fell into the soup. mustering enough courage, you lift a hand to the door and softly knock.

“sae?”

there's a moment of silence.

“come in.”

you enter the older itoshi’s room. you watch as he slowly sits up. prominent bags under his eyes, a flushed face, and weak deameanor. not to mention, the complete lack of color from his face. this looked nothing like the sae you know.

"hey, how are you feeling?"

"like absolute shit." you chuckle from his remark.

"sorry that was a stupid question."

you make your way towards the side of his bed, tray still in hand. being extra careful to ensure the contents of the bowl don't spill.

"do you think you're able to eat?" you stretch out the tray as an offer.

"my throat is killing me but i'll just suck it up, i have to take medicine anyway."

you place the back of your hand to sae's forehead, eyes widening at the heat. his face was hot to the touch.

"yikes, you really are burning up."

all sae could do was nod weakly in response. a frown replaced your expression. seeing sae in such a state tugged at your heartstrings.

"i can feed you so you can save your energy?"

sae nods once again.

he hopes you mistake the flush of his face from being sick, not one of revealing his feelings.

carefully, you lightly blow onto the soup, gesturing sae to open his mouth. he complies, opening enough for you to slip the spoon in. soon enough, he finishes his meal. he takes his medicine shortly after.

"almost done! let me go get a new rag for your forehead and then i'll leave you to rest," you smile softly, turning to exist his room before he latches onto your wrist.

“wait, don't go.”

you whip your head back so fast you're sure you have whiplash. gently, sae pulls you towards him. all you can do is let him lead you closer and closer.

this was so unlike sae.

“stay with me? please.”

itoshi sae never pleads. who were you to deny such a request?

you pull up a chair from his desk and take place to the side of his bed once more. the two of you share a moment a silence, basking into the

“never knew you were the type to be so clingy,” you tease.

sae doesn't even have the energy to throw you one of his usual glares. instead, he grabs your hand once more bringing it up to his chest. shocked from the gesture, you attempt to bring your hand back towards you but to no avail. sae has other plans.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm showing you what you're doing to me.”

your eyes widen at the unexpected confession. you're sure your face is beet red. your heartbeat feels so loud you wouldn't be surprised if sae can hear the rhythm of your heart.

"wait, sae i can't! it's one of rin and i's rules."

he scoffs hearing the mention of the younger itoshi. he composes himself despite being sick to make his actions loud and clear.

“i don't care. rules were meant to be broken anyway.”

in a swift motion, sae drags you from previous seated position to under the covers with him. you gasp from the abrupt action. he buries his head into your neck, softly inhaling the scent of your perfume.

you comply as your hand makes it way to the top of his head. you scratch light shapes into his scalp earning a sigh of contentment from sae.

"if you get me sick, im going to kill you."

"yeah yeah."

guess his plan worked out after all.

-

bonus:

“huh? what pact?”

you gape at rin. surely, he didn't forget. right?

“the pact we made when we were 5? that pact? the best friend pact?”

all rin does is blink at you.

“doesn't ring a bell."

“you're joking right? please tell me you're joking.”

“i can assure you i'm not.”

you face palm before returning to meet rin’s eyes once more. “so, you really don't care that i'm dating sae?”

“oh that's great news actually, i was wondering when you'd finally make a move.” he shrugs.

“what? so you knew!”

“how could i not? you weren't exactly subtle about it.”

"so, you're not gonna kill me for dating sae?"

"no, i'm livid."

you can feel a sweat drop trickle down your forehead. rin releases a breath before speaking again.

"but, you seem happier with him. i guess. so, i don't really mind." rin ruffles the top of your head as you continue the way to your second home, the itoshi household.

☆.

a/n :: rin is a 10/10 best friend. i lowk hate the ending might revise at a later time </3

[heesimp]

hiii can I be 🦢 anon!

I was thinking maybe reader sexing prof heeseung

swan is saved for you! enjoy this drabble xxx

-

“Aren’t your students coming soon?”

“I hope so.” Heeseung smiles down at you wickedly but it doesn’t stop you from looking up at him from where you sit on his desk in the empty classroom. It’s a free period for him and he’s called you in under the guise of revising a paper, but you know better than to believe that. You smack his chest at his innuendo.

Everybody knows who Heeseung is: a great professor who is as passionate about teaching as he is when it comes to literature. He started as a TA at this university before obtaining his PhD in literary studies and passes on his love for knowledge to his students.

You sit in the third row just shy from the center in your pretty dresses that are modest enough to wear to class but stylish too. Unlike the rest of your classmates, you aren’t afraid to answer Heeseung’s questions and raise your hand to give you input either. He likes that about you and it’s what made you his favorite student.

Heeseung loves ambition in people because he sees it in himself. He loves it when his students have that drive to them and loves reading papers and grading test scores from his brightest pupils. It makes him so proud.

You fit in his life somehow in ways he hadn’t imagined. You, with your supple skin and bright mind enticed Heeseung the first time you took advantage of his office hours. You’d been the first student to visit him and talk about the course material, and it didn’t help that you were wearing a short skirt on a hot day with your thighs sticking to the leather seat below you. He went home that night and touched himself to the thought of gripping your thighs as he fucked you in his office.

The first time the two of you were alone at a late hour on campus was by accident. You couldn’t make it to his office hours and asked to schedule for a time after classes were over and spent an hour discussing the lesson plan and your favorite authors. The second time was by accident too, as he had run into you at the library during the evening and offered to walk you to your car since it was so late at night.

The third time was by accident as well, except neither of you cared that clothes weren’t involved. Now, he conceals kisses with you in between your classes and his, and keeps his doors locked when you come in to have lunch with him.

“I have thirty minutes before my next class starts and you, baby, have an hour before your exam. Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Stayed up all night just so I could do this with you now,” you say, pulling Heeseung closer to you by pushing your legs around him. He holds your waist and you position your crotch right against his. He’s hard already. “Besides, I perform better after I cum.”

“Mm, is that right?”

“Yes, professor. Haven’t you ever wondered why I test well with your cum sitting inside of me?”

“So dirty for me.” Heeseung dips down to press his lips right on top of yours like he’s been dying for a taste all morning. “Makes me wanna fuck you real hard.”

“You have thirty minutes.”

Your sultry voice lures him right in. He doesn’t have enough time for foreplay and fears that someone might need him before he’s set to begin teaching so he pulls his cock out of his pants before shoving them down until they reach his ankles. You did him a favor by wearing a dress today and when he pushes a hand underneath to push your panties to the side, he groans when he realizes you aren’t wearing any.

Heeseung pushes the tip inside of your wet hole and looks you in the eye. “You’re trouble.”

“You like that though, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, pushing himself further inside of you until you’re arching your chest into him, “I really do. My naughty girl.”

His hips thrust in and out of you at a nice pace. You feel him within your walls and push yourself off of the table with the palm of your hands to angle yourself towards him better with his wet dick sloshing around you. It seeps down onto his balls and Heeseung puts his own hands on the desk beside you in order to kiss you.

“Did you complete your online assignment?”

“Really, Hee? You’re asking me that now?”

Heeseung smirks and pushes himself in and out of you faster until you’re yelping against his lips. “Yeah, I am. Don’t want my best student to fall behind just because she’s drunk over some cock. Did you finish it, Y/N?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Do you think you did a good job?”

“I did!” you whine against him as Heeseung kisses your neck. “I double checked my references!”

“Perfect student with a perfect pussy.” He pulls back far enough to see his cock disappearing inside of you. “Wooooow. Would you look at that?”

“Wish you would come fuck me in my dorm,” you whine. “I hate fucking in your office.”

“You like my bed though, don’t you? My bed is much bigger than the pathetic twin the university gives you.”

“Yeah, but think about it. It’s really hot when you know we shouldn’t be fucking there.”

He shakes his head and kisses your lips to silence you. “Can’t risk getting seen by other students, baby. Fucking in my office is risky enough.”

“Then you should make me cum so we don’t get caught.”

Heeseung heeds your warning and uses the strength in his legs to push you onto the desk until your legs are in the air. His hands come to your calves to keep your legs apart just how he likes you to be, watching your silk-like pussy folds envelope him like you’re a siren waiting to ruin him.

You come when he comes. That feeling of sudden warmth in your hole makes you go insane every time he does it. Heeseung pulls out enough to watch as the rest of his cum drips onto your folds until he’s soft enough to clean the two of you up. He wipes you down with a spare tissue before he leans down to lick one strip up your pussy and kissing your clit before closing your legs for you.

“Same time tomorrow?” You bat your eyelashes at him and he laughs.

“I have a faculty meeting, unfortunately…Why don’t you spend the weekend with me?”

“Oh? And do what professor?”

“I think you know what.”

He wills himself not to get hard again.

[sukunas-wife]

I don’t know who needs to hear this

But yes,

After teaching all day when Sukuna is laying in bed on his back shirtless because he hates the constriction when he’s trying to relax

he has his left arm tucked behind his head, eyes closed until you come and plop down on his right side with your back pressed to his side so you can rest your head on his bicep

He doesn’t open his eyes to look at you knowing he’ll only be greeted by the back of your head because odds are your tapping away on your phone

Time passes and he slowly moves the arm your laying on to hold you in a loose choke hold that used to scare the life out of you.

Now you just lift your chin slightly to rest it on the crook of his elbow

That’s his affection in the summer heat

He won’t turn to hug you, but he persists on holding you in a loose choke hold to assure himself you really are there

This happens a lot of places surprisingly, usually when he’s lost in thought

Example

The time you had to commute on the train with Gojo and Geto because Gojo was reckless and forgot to call ijichi back after scaring him off. It was the golden hour and you were tired refusing to sit knowing you’d sit and fall asleep and you would not have Gojo or Geto bullying you for snoring. So you stood by Sukuna back pressing to his side and arm as you yawned watching as Geto crossed his arms over his chest eyes closing as his head slipped forward when he fell asleep. Your head fell back against Sukuna’s shoulder and you yawned again. You stayed like that for a bit until you felt Sukuna move his arm, you leaned off of him thinking he was telling you to move until you felt his elbow hit your shoulder and his arm come up and squeeze your neck. You panicked briefly hand reaching up to grab his arm stopping midway when you felt him loosen his hold and sigh. “You really fucked this up Satoru.” Ryomen’s voice reverberated through your back as your head fell to the side to look at Gojo, he was holding a hand on Geto’s head pulling him onto his shoulder, “Yeah ye-“ he stopped, looking at the two of you, “oho, I knew you were a freak Sukuna but I didn’t know you’d be into choking our little y/n in public.” You let your chin fall against Sukuna’s arm supporting your head. Sukuna huffed, “Didn’t know a twink like you had the balls to talk out your ass.”

The second time it happened you were standing there talking to Fushiguro and Satoru about some “lesson” plan but really it was Satoru trying to convince both of you to go to his end of the week work party. In all honesty he messed up and made Suguru mad and didn’t want to be alone with him while he was sober. So a work party at the barbecue place with drinks would be good enough to get Suguru off his case til the next day when he had to go off on a mission. Toji was trying to find an escape thinking the two younger sorcerers should talk their issues out as his wife had beat into him instead of using a buffer. Toji was about to say his wife needed him home, until Ryomen walked up behind you pulling you against his chest in a loose head lock, his other arm casually tapping away at his phone that he stared at uninterested as he spoke up “We can’t make it we have other plans Satoru.” Toji had a sly smile and a brow quirked watching both of you, he dropped a heavy hand on Gojo’a shoulder, “Good luck with your little lover’s quarrel.” Toji turned stopping almost shoulder to shoulder with Sukuna, “Might have to try that one out on my wife.” It was a lie, you all knew his wife would beat him over the head for ever treating her like that. But looking up you didn’t miss the side eyes and faint smirks they shared. There was no doubt they were true blood brothers.

The third time Sukuna had a mission, you just wanted to tag along to see how he worked on the field. It’s not like you hadn’t, but this time you’d get to see him up close. It wasn’t a long mission, but Sukuna always got the best stay inns when he did go on missions. So when he dragged out his mission to be able to stay in a hotel you were excited to tag along with him to the hotels fancy dinner. It was a tradition Japanese theme, polished carved wood, the dinnerware was hand carved wood if it wasn’t hand made porcelain dinner wear. You watched as the lady wearing a kimono brought your food, in beautiful porcelain bowls taking away your empty appetizer plates, setting down dishes of salads, soups and other side dishes before setting down a large tray of different meats. You perked up as she left you both to eat. Your stomach growling as Sukuna didn’t waste time in eating, you looked up at him with a smile, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he picked form sides eating meat and rice. You joined in until the plates were empty and you both left, the both of you had assumed since the school knew you would be joining Sukuna’s mission there would be a double bed room. To your dismay the hotel only understood it should be a single king size bed. Sukuna didn’t offer to take a sofa, saying the both of you would share the bed and that would be the end of it. Well as you both got into bed, you yawned rolling to your side to leave Sukuna more space, it was a surprise when you felt him yank you into his side, wrapping his arm around your neck pulling your back against his side, you turned to look at him watched as he yawned tucking his other arm behind his head. The arm around your neck, his hand rubbed over your shoulder as he finished yawning. “Go to sleep idiot” you couldn’t help but smile slightly as he yawned, a faint smile twitching at the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes.

Squishy Tag List

@sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl l @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing

[nerdy-novelist017]

Omg hi!!!🧚🏻‍♀️

I just wanted to pop by and tell you how much I LOVE your writing and content, makes me kick my feet reading about Benny and Bunny😫🙂‍↔️I was just wondering if mayhaps you’d write something in which Bunny gets mad at Benny for something and gives him the cold shoulder hehe. You mentioned in your most recent installment of them how she’s done that when pissed at him and I just thought it’d be so interesting to see an upset Bunny and groveling Benny😏perhaps involving the topic of jealousy or miscommunication. Have a good day/evening and feel free to ignore my yapping!!!🙈🐇

Thank you so much for your kind words! 🥹You're so sweet!!! I could never ignore your yapping, friend! Sorry this took so long to post but I wanted to get it right since this request is so stinking cute! I was going to break this up into two parts because I got a little carried away but I figured you guys probably don't mind the longer posts ;) Please let me know your thoughts on this as I love reading your comments! Hope you enjoy! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist 🐰

Word Count- 3.4k+

Love, Lids, and Lessons (Benny Cross X Shy!Reader)

Listen, Benny fucked up on a near daily basis. He’s by no means perfect and there was a lot that you overlook because you loved him and he’s still the best man you’d ever met. However, there were times where Benny pissed you off so bad that you simply couldn't excuse him. This happened to be one of those times.

You were standing beside him at the pool table during what happened to be a pretty intense moment of a game that Benny happened to be losing pretty badly. It was the third time you’d approached him, asking to leave. It wasn’t even that late but you had wanted to go because you planned to get up early the next morning to meet your girlfriends for a breakfast date. He’d told you that the two of you could leave soon, after he finished his beer. And then he told you after he finished his game. Then that game became the next game. And the current game which he happened to be losing and maybe it was that his temper with the razzing he was receiving from the members who watched the game but he just didn’t want to have to tell you one more time that you would both be leaving soon. You tugged on his sleeve again and he just said it, without a filter, without thinking. 

“Bunny, you’re being naggy.” 

That was it. Just four words that would cause him more trouble than he even realized. He didn’t mean it in a rude way; He was just trying to tell you what you were doing was annoying to him. He said way worse than that to the boys and they never reacted the way you did. 

Your mouth dropped open in shock, driven speechless by his words. He made a shrugging motion to you that said What? But the low whistled that emitted from Cal on the other side of the pool table did nothing to deescalate the embarrassment he could see bubbling in your face. You snapped your mouth shut, brows pinching together as you glanced at the others who heard. Not many, just Cal, Johnny, Betty and a few others. It was enough. When your gaze found him again there was an undeniable dark cloud in your eyes and he wanted to apologize. But you turned and walked away before he could say anything else. 

“Oh, Benny. . .” Johnny muttered with a grimace but Benny was too caught up in the taunting of the other members around the table to hear him. So he let you storm off, figuring you’d have cooled down by the time his game was over. And shortly after, his game ended (He lost, though he didn’t really find himself caring about that, not with the image of your hurt expression looping in his mind) and he said goodbye to the boys and went to find you. Only . . . you were gone. 

He found Gail who told him you had left with Kathy. He clenched his jaw and nodded. You rarely ever left with someone else, you liked to ride home with Benny. He thought maybe you were just tired and Kathy was probably leaving at the same time but a little voice in the back of his head told him it was more to it than that. He tried to ignore the way the ride home was quiet without you on the back. And when he walked through the door, you were not in the entryway where you normally stood waiting for him. No, you weren’t even in the kitchen where he’d sometimes find you during a midnight craving. Something uncomfortable gripped at his heart and he stood in the kitchen for a long time, trying to come to terms with the fact that you probably left. 

Trudging up the stairs to your bedroom, his heart skipped a beat when he saw your form laying in the bed, back facing him. He resisted the urge to go to you, sensing the way your shoulders stiffened that you were still awake. He undressed slowly, taking the time to decide what he wanted to say to you. But even as he pulled back the covers and crawled in next to you, no words ever formed in his mouth. Instead, he tried a different tactic. He pressed himself up against your body, sliding his hand over your waist, traveling it up to your breast as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

You brushed his hand away. “I’m not in the mood, Benny.”

His hand moved down to your hips instead to take it in another direction but you gripped his wrist and moved it back to his side. “I’m serious. I’m tired”

Okay, you were upset about what he’d said. He sighed and rolled onto his back, moving back to his side of the bed. He waited a few more seconds to see if you’d follow him like you normally did, but you remained steadfast in your spot so he reached over to the bedside lamp and switched it off, the room filling with darkness. He laid in that darkness for a long time, contemplating what to say, what to do. 

When Benny woke the next morning and his hand drifted over to you, he found your side of the bed empty. He frowned, glancing at the clock. It was still early and you almost never woke up before he did. And if you did, you just wanted to snuggle with him in bed. With an odd feeling in the pit of his gut, he got up and dressed, seeking you out. He found you in the kitchen, wearing an apron with little flowers embroidered on the fabric. You stood at the island, frosting cupcakes that he didn’t know you planned on taking with you. 

“Mornin’,” he said as he approached, making his way over to make a cup of coffee. You only hummed in response. He turned back around to face you, leaning against the opposite countertop, feeling as though the space between you was as wide as an ocean. He watched you for a moment as you set down the cupcake you were working on, the delicate desert now freshly adorned with baby pink frosting. You reached forward to start on the next one and that’s when he spoke again. “You need help with that?” 

“No,” you replied, avoiding eye-contact. A heavy silence filled the kitchen as he sipped meekly at his coffee and you finished frosting the cupcakes. It’d be better to just rip off the band-aid, he decided. He wasn’t going to go his whole day pretending he didn’t know that you were giving him your traditional cold-shoulder response. So he said, “You still mad about last night?”

Your eyes flashed up to his for just a moment. “What do you think, Benny?” 

“About what I said? C’mon . . .” He didn’t even mean it in a rude way! Sometimes you were so sensitive and he truly didn’t understand you. Johnny had told him once that women were a completely different creature than them. And as Benny watched you furiously frost your cupcakes, he really felt the impact of that statement.  “I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was a little drunk and–”

“Oh you were drunk?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, in that case, I’ll just let you get away with whatever you want when you’re drunk. Won’t let anything affect me at all!”

Hmm. He didn’t think that’s what you were gonna say to that. Benny hated it when you verbally put him in a corner like this, didn’t let him get away with his half-assed apologies that never actually use the phrase ‘I’m sorry.’ It always made him get defensive, made his temper flare and he’d end up doing more damage than good nearly every time.

“You were naggin’ and you know it. I don’t know if it was because you wanted to go home or if you were jealous that someone else had my attention for a moment and you didn’t–”

“Jealous?” The word echoed off the cupboards. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bunny–” he groaned but you cut him off. 

“Don’t Bunny me right now,” you griped, eyes narrowing as you began placing the cupcakes in the portable carrier he had surprised you with for your birthday a few months ago. “Jealous? You honestly think I was jealous? Or are you just sayin’ that because you want to get a rise out of me?”

“Well, I’m just tryin to say–” he stopped short as he caught your sharp gaze. “I just. . . Don’t you think you’re overreacting about this?”

Your mouth formed a thin line, jaw clenching. You stared at him for a few agonizingly long moments before you shook your head, muttering, “You–” 

Benny was dying to know what you were about to say but only observed as you removed your apron, folded it neatly and placed it back in the drawer before you grabbed your portable tray and left the kitchen. Like a moth to flame, he followed you as you went to the door, pausing only to slide your feet into the kitten heels you had lined up at the baseboard. Without saying another word, you opened the door and left. But he trailed after you, standing on the porch, he wordlessly watched as you descended the stairs and walked down the stone pathway to the white picket fencing you had always talked about and opened the little gate. 

“Damn thing,” you grumbled under your breath as you fought with the broken hinge of the gate to close it properly behind you, the sound squeaking obnoxiously. 

“When are you comin’ back?” he hollered after you, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Later.” Was your vague answer before you got into your car and left Benny still standing on the porch, front door ajar and eyes narrowed. 

******

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Benny stood to his full height and took a step back to take in the shiny new hinge on the gate he just installed. He tried opening and closing it a few times, admiring the way it worked soundlessly. Good as new, he thought. Fixing physical things like door hinges and motorcycle parts, those were easy. Benny was good with his hands, he could tinker around and fix just about anything he set his mind to. But fixing emotional things. . . those were not so easy for Benny. Apologies were rare and he’s never one to throw them out like confetti as you so often did. You apologized too much and he’s told you that you shouldn’t apologize for half the things you do. 

He’d had a lot of time to think about what happened and his mood certainly shifted more than once during his front gate project. At first, mild annoyance because what he said to you was hardly an insult. Then, it might have been due to the sun beating down on him while he worked, but genuine anger replaced the annoyance because you were so damn sensitive and there were times he felt he had to walk on eggshells around you. But the anger quickly fizzled out when he thought about how your sensitivity was what made you special. It was what helped you be so empathetic, so caring toward everyone you came across. And by the time he’d finished fixing the gate, the only feeling that smothered him was a painfully present regret. Regret for what he had said, but also for what he hadn’t. An apology was something you deserved, but he didn’t give it to you, not in an appropriate way. 

So when you came home, hours later, he watched from the living room window as your car pulled in front of the house. You exited the car, and he almost held his breath as you opened the gate, taking a moment to open and close it a few times. You definitely noticed he’d fixed it. Good, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear yet.

You came inside and it was clear that you were still upset by the way you moved. He could see your shoulder stiffen when you noticed him there, could see the pouty lip of yours pull into a slight frown. You hardly spoke to each other the rest of the day. You didn’t mention the gate and he didn’t bring it up. 

******

The next morning Benny was up before you, as usual. At least that was back to normal. He went downstairs and started a pot of coffee as he got ready for work. He grabbed his lunchbox, preparing to make himself a lunch for work when he stopped short, noticing that there was already a lunch packed in there, complete with one of your pink-frosted cupcakes. His heart squeezed at the realization that you still packed him a lunch, something you did every workday for him, even though you were upset with him. You . . . the sweet creature that he still didn’t completely understand. And he needed to do something.

Fortunately Benny had another trick up his sleeve, and playing dirty didn’t matter to him when it came to getting your attention again. 

******

You didn’t sleep well last night, laying awake all night with a heartsick frown, wishing nothing more than for the man who lay just within an arm's reach from you to actually comfort you – in a way that you wanted to be comforted. And tears threatened to spill when you realized, even just for a moment, you wished he could be someone who was a bit more empathetic, a bit more compatible to you. This wasn’t the worst thing he’s said and you’ve had your fights over much worse, but in all your time together, this was the first time you’d ever had that thought. Maybe it was because this was the first time you had both ignored it, both choosing to go to bed angry and upset rather than to work through it. The storm in your heart still surged on, albeit a bit more due to sadness rather than anger, as you slipped on your babydoll pink robe over your nightgown. You tried not to think about Benny at all as you put your hair up in rollers and applied your makeup for the day. You couldn’t hide in the bedroom all day unfortunately, so you traipsed downstairs, bare feet padding softly against each step until you entered the kitchen where you found Benny sitting at one of the island chairs, the daily paper spread out on the countertop before him. 

He looked up when he heard you. “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you parroted as you went to the pantry to grab out your ingredients to start breakfast. You started your tea, grabbing the jar of honey off the shelf and a flower mug. You turned your back to Benny and started to twist the lid off the honey jar . . . only it was really stuck on there. Readjusting your hands, you gave it another go, but still it didn’t budge. Setting your jaw in place, you glanced over your shoulder at your husband who was still looking down at his newspaper. Normally, you would immediately hand something over to Benny to open for you, but you were still mad at him which meant you’ll have to go without honey in your tea. 

So instead you started making your bagel for breakfast, a go-to breakfast meal for workday mornings. Popping the bagel in the toaster, you took the homemade strawberry jam out of the fridge and frowned when you realized that lid was also screwed on extra tight too. You turned to face your partner, reluctantly asking, “Can you open this?”

He looked up at you, eyes glancing down at the jam jar and he held out his hand. “I’ll open it for you if you talk to me.”

In no mood to play his games, you rolled your eyes. “Forget it. I can do it myself.”

You turned back around, feeling his gaze burning into you as you grabbed a dish rag and placed it over the lid to get a better grip. You twisted hard, tongue darting out between your teeth as you concentrated on opening it. It seemed as though a mutant with superhuman strength had sealed this lid last – which was strange considering you were the only person in the house who ever used it. You peaked back at Benny who watched you blatantly so you stuck your chin out defiantly as you put the jar back down on the countertop. Fine, you’d just put peanut butter on your bagel instead. You scooped up the peanut butter jar, this time facing him as you twisted the lid and you nearly screamed in frustration when you felt how tightly this lid was as well. 

Wordlessly, he held out his hand across the countertop, waiting patiently as you crossed your arms, mentally debating if you could go without any of these items on your bagel.

Ding! You both glanced over as your perfectly-browned bagel popped up from the toaster. You sighed through your nose, biting your bottom lip as defeat settled in. You grabbed the jam, honey and peanut butter jars and slid them on the countertop before him. 

“Okay, fine,” you admittedly softly and watched as he made it look so effortless as he opened the lid with a satisfying pop. You muttered a quick thanks and reached for the jar but he leaned backwards, holding the jar just out of your reach. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he spoke, eyes earnestly searching your face. “What I said at the bar – about you askin’ to go home. You weren’t being naggy, I should have listened to you the first time. That was my own fault. I was just getting so caught up in that stupid game and it wasn’t even important. Not like you are. And what I said embarrassed you and that was wrong.” He rose from his seat, moving around the counter to stand before you as he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his apology. Only a handful of times have you heard those words leave his mouth and you knew he never said them if he wasn’t completely meaningful. You nodded but then remembered his use of vocabulary last night. “And what you said about me bein’ jealous?”

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I’m not apologizin’ for that because you really do confuse me sometimes, Bunny. I thought maybe you were jealous and when you stop communication’ with me, I feel even more lost than usual.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” you accepted as you crossed your arms. “But I don’t want to talk to you when I’m upset. Maybe I want you to do the talking for once.”

He furrowed his brow in thought as he looked over at the toaster. “Well, why don’t we make a promise to each other that we can go to bed angry if we want, but come morning, we talk about it over breakfast. No more putting it off for multiple days. We have to deal with it so that we can move past it.”

You considered that for a moment. “Yeah, that sounds alright.”

He took your hands in his own and dipped forward to place a soft kiss to your cheek. When he began to pull back, your hand flew up to gently encase the side of his face, holding him there as you met him halfway and kissed his lips in a physical show to prove you had accepted his apology. And if that wasn’t good enough, you whispered against his lips, “I forgive you.”

His arms circled around your waist pulling you into his lean frame in a tight hug that seemed to melt away all the stress that built between you two. 

“How did you know that I would use the honey today?” you asked with a tilt of your head, figuring he must be the reason for the right lids. 

“I didn’t. I tightened all the jars.”

“Benny!” you laughed, playfully slapping his bicep. 

He lowered his hands behind your hips, lifting you quickly onto the kitchen countertop, grinning at the squeal you let out at the sudden shift. 

“Let me make it up to you, Bunny? Please?” he begged, voice teasing but you could see the sincerity, the desperation in his ocean blue eyes.

“I’m gonna be late for work,” you giggled as he buried his face into the spot between your jaw and collarbone, that sweet spot he knew got you weak in the knees every time he placed his mouth there. “I need to leave in a few minutes.”

“You might wanna call in sick then,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed up your neck, “‘Cuz I got plans for you that’s gonna last longer than a few minutes.”

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @thedreamingfish99

[ranhaitanisbitch]

Mammon has nightmares after lesson 16

Spoilers for obey me lesson 16

- mammon x gn!reader

warning: angst with comfort (i think, i'm not good at this T_T), shirtless Mammon in a non-suggestive way

synopsis: mammon can't sleep because he keeps having nightmares about seeing mc die, he decides to pay them a nightly visit.

author's note: this is my first piece of creative writing ever, so please don't be too harsh on me hehe. hope you enjoy it! also would love more suggestions and ideas to write about, so i can practice some more ^_^ (also english isn't my native language, so i apologize for any mistakes)

word count: about 1.1k

3:24 AM. Mammon sighed. It was already the third time he had woken up from his sleep tonight. He had had another nightmare. Nothing unusual for the demon lately. Ever since that one particular day he had had trouble falling asleep. Whenever he laid back and closed his eyes the one memory, he tried so desperetealy to forget, kept replaying in his mind. On nights he was able to miraculously fall asleep he would be plagued by nightmares, being forced to relive that traumatic memory again and again. The demon would wake up from those nightmares drenched in sweat and repeat that process until he'd decide keeping trying would be a waste of time. Then he'd start with his daily duties, extremely sleep deprived, but at least he would have a distraction from the scenes that haunted him whenever there was a moment of quiet.

Mammon sighed again. He could feel his wet shirt clinging to his skin. He could tell he wouldn't get another second of sleep tonight, but the lack of sleep from the previous days were starting to catch up to him. During the past week he kept falling asleep in class (very much to Lucifer's disapproval) and even the photographer at his modeling gig sent him home, lecturing him about the importance of beauty sleep for models. The man told Mammon to come back when his eye bags, which were so dark they were impossible to cover, were gone. One week later the eye bags were still there if not even worse. "I can't go on like this", Mammon thought. He moved his blanket off of himself and left his room. He didn't even think about what he was doing or where he was going, but his own feet seemed to have a plan.

When he arrived in front of a door he knew too well, the demon stopped. "What am I doing? It's almost four in the morning. I shouldn't wake them up.", Mammon scolded himself as his hand was already reaching for the door handle and pushing it down. "This is so inappropriate!", "I shouldn't be here", "(M/C)'s gonna get so mad if they wake up.". Mammon's heart was pounding like crazy and suddenly stopped when he saw your sleeping face with your brows furrowed. The demon had seen you sleep once before, when he barged into your room a few months ago, in the middle of the night, to get you to sneak out with him. You looked so peaceful sleeping back then, but now your face looked all scrunched up, not peaceful at all. And now Mammon even noticed the small lamp, that was still turned on, on your bedside table. Where you having a nightmare? Were you being plagued by nightmares too? Were they the same ones he had? Were they worse? As traumatic as that day was for Mammon he couldn't even imagine how bad it must've been for you. You had literally... died. The thought alone was enough to make goosebumps rise on the demon's skin and the urge to touch and embrace you was getting stronger. He just wanted to make sure you were still there. Really there. His feet slowly approached the bed. Without thinking Mammon's hand moved to your face, softly caressing the crease between your eyebrows with one finger as if to smooth the lines. You suddenly opened your eyes and Mammon's hand shot back. Your face softened as you recognized Mammon's face and gave him a small smile, "You scared me". "Sorry", was all that the demon could come up with as he stared at your face like he couldn't believe you were real. "What are you doing here?", you asked softly. Mammon was acting unlike his usual self and that seemed to concern you. "I don't know". Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing here, but he would never admit that. Even if he wanted to, the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. You lifted your blanket up and gestured for him to slip in. Mammon immediately complied and laid down beside you. The blanket was too small for two people, so you two were practically smooshed against each other. "Mammon your shirt is drenched", you whispered feeling the damp shirt now cling to you too. "Sorry". You sighed, "Take it off. You'll get sick...". The demon blushed, but pulled his shirt over his head and let it fall down on the floor beside the bed, "is that really okay?". You just giggled softly at his shy demeanor. The skin of his cheeks turned an even darker shade of red and the demon quickly turned off the small bed side lamp, thankful you wouldn't be able to see the embarrassing color his face had taken on.

With his shirt off Mammon could feel even more of your warm skin. The feeling made him calm down. The anxious feeling he had when he first stepped through the door completely gone. You were real. You were still here. Suddenly Mammon had the strongest urge to hug you and never let go, so he carefully turned his body in your direction and put an experimental hand on your right arm. When you didn't protest he put his whole arm around your waist loosely. He felt a sensation on his arm and expected you to move his arm away. Feeling dejected he got ready to pull his hand away, but only felt your own hand caress his arm softly. Mammon let out a small sigh of relief and boldly put his head in the crook of your neck. Your free arm sneaked under Mammon's neck and started playing with his head. The demon relaxed completely. This was probably the most relaxed he had been in the past weeks since the incident. He could feel himself become more tired and was slowly starting to fall asleep. He muttered a last "good night" and drifted off to sleep.

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT WILL YOUR FANS THINK OF YOU?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I get for the readings, but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that is just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD TAROT READING

I asked my spirit guides what your fans would think of you if/when you become famous, pick a picture to find out what they have to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

They’ll think you have a very good work ethic, and that you a perfect balance between what you show online and what you hide behind the scenes. They’ll respect you for showing your struggles and helping them stay motivated, you could teach them some valuable lessons, directly or not, it’ll stick with them for years. They may think that you’re a bit impulsive and quick to act on things. You could get into a fair amount of public disputes which stresses them out since they have to be there to defend you. Their may be some times that they see you as someone they want to become, however it seems they believe your life is so far out of their reach. They definitely gossip about you a lot on social media, to their friends or family, heavy energy of telling all third parties about you, whether they wish to hear it or not. They view you as someone who has everything, and they may sometimes think you are a tad ungrateful, that’s only for those of you who won’t share your personal struggles online, they’ll just be a few lines blurred between truths and their interpretations about you. The reason they feel all of this is because they see you working really hard to appease to your audience, and sometimes they may think you stress out about their perception about you, not knowing that they plan on sticking around for as long as you let them.

PILE 2

For a lot of you, you’re in an industry where your personal struggles are seen, whether you right music or books about your trauma, or you talk on a podcast which expresses your truest emotions, some of them pity you; not in a patronising way, rather a way or recognising everything that you were unfortunate enough to live through, and they respect your perseverance for it. They may have noticed that you popped up spontaneously, some of you could even be an industry plant and they’re confused about where you came from lmao. I see that they may gatekeep you for a while, making fun of anyone who didn’t know you before your most viral content/project came out and everyone started to recognise you as a creator or artist, you may need to control this to make sure it doesn’t spiral out of control and get toxic. They see you as someone they look up to and feel mentally, emotionally and spiritually in touch with, someone who understands them on deeper levels that no one else ever has, you’re their home. Your fans feel like you’ve lived many lives and you know the world like the back or your hand; they look up to you for advice and ideas, they trust your judgement more than anything, they do have the tendency to follow you blind. For some of you, they may struggle or flat out refuse to hold you accountable for your actions if you make a mistake, so make sure to remind them that you are human and they should call you out if you slip up. Super defensive over you, they will attack anyone who slanders your name - again, this can be good, however just ensure it doesn’t spiral out of control.

PILE 3

Well my pile 3, they feel a lot. Firstly, a large amount of them are parasocial, very sorry, just got to give that to you. You could be known for your appearance or something along those lines, and they are very, very attracted to you, which leads them to being a tad too parasocial here. I see they would defend you with sticks and stones if you gave them the chance, there is nothing to stop them from sticking up for you against those pesky trolls. They’re also keyboard warriors, so you may wanna ensure your fandom are not blabbing their mouths about other fandoms, just for the sake of keeping everything comfortable and healthy. Some of you, if not most could post vlogs or TikToks that resemble a FaceTime call, and this could make them feel attached to you and as if you are their friend. They respect your work a lot, they may constantly beg for you to release more of what you do, they’re waiting on their hands and knees for your next drop. They are making you a shit ton of money, rewatching all your videos a million times, going to all your concerts, travelling the world to be at your meet and greets. They’re very obsessive, so you may wanna back down a little on how much personal stuff you post. You could also be a streamer, and that’s making them feel more connected as they get to see the uncut 1-5 hours of your life, again feeding their parasocial desire. They have a name for themself that they go by, and a fair amount of them may call you a parental name “mother,” “father,” “parent.”

[jaeyunluvbot]

ceilings

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, college au, mark lee x fem!reader,

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You sit cross-legged on the couch in your dorm, a half-empty mug of coffee going cold on the table in front of you. Your laptop is open, the beginnings of a lesson plan appearing on the screen. Across the room, Mark is sprawled in your beanbag chair, a stack of notebooks and his own laptop scattered haphazardly around him.

“Remind me why you picked education again?” he teases, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“Because I like helping people,” you say without looking up. “Unlike you, who’s clearly just here to take up space.”

Mark laughs, the sound comforting and familiar. “Yikes. I’m just saying, you’ve been staring at that screen for, like, two hours. Are you actually working, or just writing your name in different fonts?”

You roll your eyes, finally glancing over at him. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of slacking off, Mr. Communications Major.”

“Hey, excuse you,” Mark says, sitting up a little. “I’m a communications major with a business minor. Very serious stuff.”

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’m sure the world is just desperate for your next paper on influencer marketing.”

He grins, leaning back again. “You know it.”

The conversation feels like a warm blanket, familiar and comforting. You’ve been best friends with Mark since third grade, and moments like this remind you why. No matter what life throws your way, he’s always been there—ready with a joke, a smile, or a friday-night movie marathon.

Still, lately, things have felt off… different. You hesitate, tapping your fingers on the edge of your laptop.

“Mark?”

“Hmm?” he says, not looking up from the YouTube video he’s somehow roped into his “studying.”

“You know Jaemin, right? From my educational psych class?”

Mark pauses the video, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, I know him. Why?”

“Well…” you trail off, suddenly not sure if you should tell him. “He asked me out yesterday.”

Mark doesn’t react immediately, his face carefully neutral. “Oh. What’d you say?”

“I said yes.”

Mark’s jaw tightens imperceptibly before he nods, forcing a smile. “That’s cool. Jaemin’s… cool.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, a little too quickly. “He’s nice. And, you know, he’s on the soccer team. Everyone loves a soccer guy.”

You tilt your head, watching him cautiously. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Mark argues, shifting his position to cover his fidgeting. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really, I am.”

You squint at him, unconvinced, but let it go. “Cool.”

The rest of the evening passes in a strange kind of silence. Mark cracks a few jokes here and there, but the usual ease between you feels just a little strained.

Later that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the soft whirring of your fan lulling you into a tired state, you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted. But what—and why—you can’t quite figure out.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A month later, you and Mark find yourselves in your favorite spot off-campus, a cozy little café that’s been your special place since freshman year. You’re sitting by the window, sipping a caramel latte and doodling on a napkin while Mark devours a bagel like it’s his last meal.

“I’m just saying,” he says between bites, crumbs and seeds scattering all over the table, “professors shouldn’t assign group projects if they know people like Yuta exist.”

“Not this again,” you groan, half-laughing. “What did he do this time?”

“What didn’t he do?” Mark gestures dramatically. “He wrote a single sentence and called it his ‘contribution.’ I’m carrying this guy through college, Y/N.”

“Maybe he’s just shy,” you suggest, smiling at your best friend’s complaints.

Mark shakes his head, pointing at you with a crumb-covered finger. “No, no. Shy people at least pretend to help. Yuta just disappears.”

You laugh, the sound bright against the low hum of the café. Moments like this remind you why Mark is your favorite person.

Which makes your next suggestion seem obvious—at least to you.

“You know,” you say, swirling your spoon in your cup, “you should hang out with Jaemin.”

Mark freezes mid-chew, his eyes widening slightly. “What?”

“You and Jaemin,” you repeat. “I feel like you’d get along. You’re both funny and laid-back, and you like soccer.”

“I don’t like soccer,” Mark says flatly.

“You played soccer in high school,” you counter.

“Because my mom made me,” he argues, setting his muffin down. “And no offense, but I don’t think me and Jaemin would get along.”

“How do you know?” you challenge, leaning forward. “You’ve never hung out with him. He’s really nice, Mark.”

Mark’s expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m sure he is,” he says carefully. “But… why are you so set on this?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” you say simply. “And he’s… my boyfriend. It would just be nice if you guys were friends, too.”

Mark looks at you for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly before he nods. “Okay,” he says finally. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll hang out with him.”

You beam, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Mark. It means a lot.”

He forces a smile, but as he takes another bite of his muffin, you notice the way his shoulders tense.

And for the second time that week, you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mark adjusts his hoodie for the third time as he steps into the campus rec center, wondering how mad you’d be if he flaked on Jaemin. He spots him right away, standing by the basketball court with a bright smile on his face, spinning a ball on his finger effortlessly.

“Mark!” Jaemin calls, waving enthusiastically.

Mark forces a grin and waves back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approaches.

“Hey,” he says.

“Glad you made it,” Jaemin says, tossing the ball to him. “You play, right?”

“Uh, not really,” Mark admits, catching the ball awkwardly.

Jaemin chuckles, his tone warm and friendly. “No worries. We’ll just shoot around. Nothing serious.”

They step onto the court, and Jaemin immediately starts talking, filling the space with his easy energy. He’s exactly how Y/N described—friendly, funny, and genuinely likable.

“So, Y/N told me you guys have been friends forever,” Jaemin says, making a shot effortlessly.

“Yeah,” Mark replies, dribbling the ball and taking a shot. It bounces off the backboard, and he winces. “We grew up together.”

“That’s awesome,” Jaemin says, running after the ball. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friendship like that. She talks about you all the time, you know.”

Mark swallows hard, his throat tightening at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin continues, passing the ball back to him. “She says you’re, like, the best person she knows. Always there for her.”

Mark forces a smile, the comment accentuating the already heavy weight on his chest. “She’s pretty great herself,” he says, taking another shot. This one goes in, and Jaemin claps excitedly.

“She really is.” Jaemin says, smiling softly.

As they continue playing, Mark starts to feel a strange mix of guilt and admiration. Jaemin is genuinely a good guy—there’s no doubt about it, and he obviously cares about Y/N. But every time Jaemin mentions her, Mark feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“So,” Jaemin says after a while of playing, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “What do you think of me?”

Mark nearly chokes on his water. “What?”

“Come on,” Jaemin says, laughing. “I know you probably weren’t super excited about this. Y/N might’ve had to twist your arm a bit. So, what’s the verdict?”

Mark hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “You’re… a good guy,” he says finally.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, grinning. “That’s it?”

Mark shrugs, forcing his hands to stay placed firmly on the ball, needing something to ground himself before he shouts his feelings to the world. “Y/N thinks so, and she’s usually right about people.”

Jaemin chuckles, his expression softening. “She’s something else, huh?”

Mark nods, his throat tightening again. “Yeah. She is.”

Jaemin leans back against the wall, tossing the ball between his hands. “I don’t know what I did to deserve her, honestly. She’s just… amazing.”

Mark doesn’t respond, forcing a smile, his chest aching at how easily Jaemin says the words Mark’s been too afraid to even think about out loud.

“Anyway,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. “Thanks for hanging out. I know you probably had better things to do.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Mark replies, his voice quieter now.

As they step back onto the court to finish their game, Mark tries to focus on the sound of the ball hitting the floor, anything to distract himself from the guilt gnawing at him. Jaemin is exactly as Y/N said—perfect. And yet, Mark can’t shake the heavy, unspoken truth weighing on his chest.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The Friday after Mark and Jaemin’s basketball game, Mark sat on your couch, scrolling aimlessly through his phone while you organized your notes at the dining table. It was a typical evening—quiet and uneventful—but something felt off. Mark had been acting strange ever since his hangout with Jaemin, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to you about something.

“Hey,” you called, your voice cutting through the silence. “You’ve been weird lately. Is something wrong?”

Mark didn’t even glance up. “I’m fine,” he said curtly.

You frowned but decided not to push. Instead, you tried to lighten the mood. “So, Jaemin was telling me about this soccer game next weekend, maybe all three of us could —”

“Do you talk about anything but Jaemin?” Mark snapped, his voice slicing through you sentence like a blade.

You froze, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

“You’re always talking about him,” Mark continued, setting his phone down with more force than necessary. “Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Do you even realize how much you talk about him?”

Your confusion quickly turned to anger. “Mark, what’s your problem? You’re the one who’s been acting all weird, and now you’re getting mad at me for talking about my boyfriend?”

Mark stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Forget it. Just forget I said anything.”

“No,” you shot back, standing too. “You don’t get to yell at me and then walk away. What’s going on with you?”

“I said forget it, Y/N!” Mark shouted, his voice louder than you'd ever heard it before.

You took a step back, a pang hurt flashing across your face. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t.”

For a moment, Mark’s expression softened, guilt and regret flickering in his eyes. But he quickly hardened again, grabbing his jacket. “You know what? I won’t.” Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

You stood frozen in place, your chest tight and tears pricking your eyes. You'd argued before, sure, but this time felt different—more real. You sank onto the couch, mind racing with questions you didn’t have answers to.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

During the days following the argument, you tried to go about life as normal, but Mark’s absence hung over you like a dark cloud. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. Jaemin was the first to notice.

The two of you were sitting on a park bench after grabbing coffee, the late afternoon sun casting warm light over the pond in front of them. Your barely touched your drink, gaze distant as you stared at the ducks paddling by.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Jaemin said gently, voice soft, as if he was afraid of what he was about to say.

“I’m fine,” you replied automatically, though your voice lacked any sense of genuineness.

Jaemin tilted his head, studying you with a soft, understanding look. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Mark and I had a fight. He’s been acting so weird, and I don’t know why. It’s like he’s mad at me for something, but he won’t tell me what.”

Jaemin hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Mark?”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide in surprise, looking at her boyfriend, shocked. “What? No. Of course I don’t. He’s my best friend.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything right away, his gaze steady but kind. “Listen,” he began carefully, “you’re a great girl. Really. But... I think you might care about him more than you realize.”

You shook your head, a pit of dread bubbling in your stomach. “Jaemin, I—I like you. I do.”

“I know,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But not the way you like him. And that’s okay.”

Tears stung your eyes as guilt washed over you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do this to you,” you whispered.

“Don’t be,” Jaemin said, placing a reassuring hand over yours. “You can’t help how you feel. And honestly? I think you should talk to him. Figure it out.”

You sniffled, giving him a small, watery smile. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

Jaemin laughed, leaning back against the bench. “I know.”

Despite the weight of their conversation, you felt a strange sense of clarity. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Mark, but for the first time, you knew you had to try.

You left the park bench with a renewed sense of purpose and a goal, to talk to Mark.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Jaemin was lying on your bed, legs stretched out as you paced back and forth. You had been trying to contact Mark for days—texts, calls, voicemails—but every attempt was met with silence. And it was driving you crazy.

“I don’t get it,” you mumbled, frustration and sadness evident in your voice. “He’s never acted like this before. We’ve argued before and we always made up, but now... now he’s avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague.”

Jaemin watched you, a quiet understanding in his gaze. He could tell how much it was bothering you, even though you were trying your very best to hide it.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Jaemin asked, leaning forward slightly.

You stopped mid-pace, looking at him with a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance. “I don’t have a choice, Jaemin. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe I messed up, maybe I pushed him too far, but he’s not responding.”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile soft but firm. “Don’t give up on him, Y/N. You love him, and he clearly feels something similar for you. Maybe he just needs a little push.”

You sigh, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I just don’t know what else to do. It’s not like I haven’t tried.”

Jaemin paused for a second, a glint of mischief creeping into his eyes. “Well, what if I told you I had a plan to make him face you?”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “What?”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “I do. But you’re gonna have to trust me on this one.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting Jaemin more than anyone else. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Jaemin leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper as he began to lay out the details of his plan. He knew it was a little underhanded, but if it meant fixing things with Mark and you, he was willing to take the risk.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days later, Mark was hanging out with his friends Haechan and Chenle at their usual café. He had been avoiding you, and it wasn’t because he wanted to. The guilt gnawed at him every time he saw your name pop up on his phone, but he didn’t know how to fix things. Every time he thought about talking to you, he freaked out, not knowing if he could handle being rejected by you.

“Man, you’ve been really quiet lately,” Haechan said, nudging Mark’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

Mark shrugged, not meeting either of their gazes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Tired? Dude, you’re literally doing nothing. Just hiding out at home all day.”

“Yeah,” Haechan added, “and avoiding Y/N. Come on, what’s going on between you two?”

Mark stiffened, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of your name. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his phone buzzed. A new message from Jaemin.

Hey, man. I need you to do me a favor.

Mark hesitated for a moment before replying, his fingers hovering over the keys. What’s up?

I need you to meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Trust me, it’s important.

Mark frowned, sensing something was off, but he couldn’t figure out what. Okay, fine. I’ll be there.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, barely noticing Haechan and Chenle’s knowing smiles.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

When Mark arrived at the park, he found Jaemin leaning against a bench, looking unusually serious.

“Why’d you need me to meet you?” Mark asked, crossing his arms and trying to hide his nervousness.

Jaemin smiled mischievously for a split second, but then he stood up straighter, his tone firm. “I’m going to help you fix things with Y/N.”

Mark blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin exhaled deeply, looking Mark in the eye. “Y/N’s been acting weird. Because you’re avoiding her. And I get it, man. I really do. But you’re hurting her by not talking to her. And she doesn’t deserve that.”

Mark felt a pang in his chest, guilt flooding his mind. “I know, but it’s complicated…”

“Complicated or not,” Jaemin interrupted, “you can’t just leave things like this. You’re her best friend, Mark. You mean everything to her.”

Mark’s throat tightened, his hands trembling slightly. “Why do you care? She’s your girlfriend.”

Jaemin’s expression hardened slightly. “Actually, she’s not. You’d know that if you answered her calls.”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “What?”

Jaemin sighed, “Listen man, I like her, I do, but she doesn’t feel the same. We broke up. And now I’ve been trying to help her contact you. You’re hurting her a lot by ignoring her like this.”

Mark groaned, feeling a sense of disbelief that your ex-boyfriend was currently trying to convince him to confess his feelings to you.

Jaemin ignores the clear shock on Mark’s face, pulling out his phone and smirking. “I’ve been talking to Haechan and Chenle. They’re on board with this. We’ve already arranged it. You two are meeting up, whether you like it or not.”

Mark’s eyes widened as he realized Jaemin had masterminded the whole thing. “You… you told them?”

Jaemin gave him a pointed look. “I did. And you’re gonna thank me later.”

Before Mark could protest any further, he heard your voice from behind him. “I’m here.”

Mark turned around, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw you standing there, looking as nervous as he felt.

Jaemin stepped back, a sly grin on his face. “You two figure it out. I’ll leave you to it.”

As Jaemin walked away, Mark stood there, unsure of how to approach the situation. He wanted to run, but Jaemin’s words echoed in his head: You can’t just leave things like this.

You looked at him, eyes filled with uncertainty, and Mark’s heart sank seeing your disheveled state. He had to fix this. And he was going to try, no matter how scared he was.

Mark stood frozen for a moment, staring at you as you approached. His heart hammered in his chest, and all he could think was how easy it would be to turn around and walk away. To just disappear before this moment could get any more uncomfortable. But as much as he wanted to run, he couldn’t. Not when you had been so patient, so understanding—he owed you this conversation.

“Mark,” You called out softly, your voice hesitant but steady.

He exhaled, pushing the thought of escape aside, and turned to face you. You looked just as uncertain as he felt, and it made the guilt rise within him all over again.

You silently walked to a nearby bench, and Mark sat down first, his hands gripping the edge of the seat as if it could anchor him to reality. You sat beside him, her posture stiff, like you were preparing for some awful outcome.

After a long pause, you broke the silence. “Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, voice a little softer than he expected, clearly you were nervous.

Mark felt his stomach drop, a wave of regret crashing over him. “Y/N, I…” He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said that. I just… I was confused. I’ve been confused for a while.”

You frowned, clearly still unsure of where this was going. “Confused about what?”

“I—” He cut himself off, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship, but there was no other way around it. “I’ve been in love with you, Y/N. For a long time now. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, I tried to ignore it.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned your head to look at him, your wide eyes betraying her mask of calmness. “What?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” he continued, voice thick with anxiety. “I was afraid that if I told you, you’d never want to talk to me again. And I’ve… I’ve been avoiding you ever since, because I thought if I just stayed away, it would be easier.”

You shook your head slowly, eyes glistening as you processed his words. “Mark… you’re my best friend. You should have told me.”

“I know. I should have,” he muttered, feeling even more ashamed. “I messed up. And then I lashed out at you, and that was stupid.”

You sigh deeply, and then, surprisingly, smile softly at him. “It’s okay, Mark. I get it now. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but I was just too scared to admit how I felt.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you continued, your voice trembling a little, “I’m in love with you, too. I just didn’t want to mess things up, either. I didn’t want to lose our friendship.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked at you, his mind racing to process your confession. “You… you love me?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m sorry I acted the way I did and I’m sorry for always bringing up Jaemin around you, I just—”

Mark could feel the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest tightened, and the guilt that had been gnawing at him for weeks was replaced by a rush of clarity. He couldn’t let this moment slip away, not after everything the two of you had been through.

Before you could say another word, Mark reached out, cupping your face gently with his hand. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with a softness that made your heart race.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you pulled back slightly, voice shaky. “Oh my god.”

Mark chuckled softly, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

You blinked, still processing everything. “I… I didn’t expect that.”

Mark smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it either. But I guess it was time for me to stop being an idiot.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re not an idiot, Mark. You’re just… well, maybe a little bit. But I’m glad we’re talking about this now.”

He nodded, his smile growing wider. “Me too. And, uh, I guess we can’t just go back to how things were, right?”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I don’t think we can. But I’m okay with that.”

Mark took a deep breath, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “So, what now?”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “I think we should just… figure it out. We already know each other so well, so maybe it’ll be easy.”

Mark grinned, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Yeah, I think we can make it work.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 omg another fic we cheered. thank u to the like 20 people who like my writing i really appreciate it. lmk if you have any requests pls

masterlist.

[it-was-summer]

Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) 〰 1

A/N: Basically, it's a broken-up little fluff piece! This is after Season 15, but I'm pretending that he is a full-time professor who occasionally assists the team with cases. Most of the time, professors DO NOT sub for each other, but hey its fanfiction man. THESE ARE MY BARBIES!!! I hope you enjoy it!

Link to the Ao3: Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) Link to the: Yee olde masterlist You are on: Enemies (if you can call it that) -> Friends (Associates at best) Tags: Use of She/Her pronouns (I apologize), slight enemies, genuinely a short and sweet little slice before y'all let me cook, mentions of victimology, violence, forensics mentioned FOR A MOMENT, ugly Christmas sweater? College talk? Embezzlement mention guys!

Genre: Slight Enemies to friends to lovers. ForensicsProfessor!Reid x ForensicsProfessor!Reader

Plot: Your new coworker, Dr. Spencer Reid, has a talent for avoiding teaching responsibilities, thereby leaving the duties to you. However, forgiveness is easily given when he makes a little effort.

Word Count: 2,966

Enemies (If You Can Call It That)

You didn’t like this new professor. It wasn’t because of change– you usually welcomed change, especially if that change was a new person coming into your life. People typically describe you as kind, passionate, and empathetic. But you strongly disliked fickle people, fair weather, and unpredictable people never sat right with you. You arrive at events on time, and the older you get, the more you view tardiness as a sign of slight disrespect. But this was on another level. 

From your understanding, three professors were teaching Victimology 6113 this Fall semester: you, Dr. Matthew, and Dr. Reid. Sometimes, you would teach introductory courses— Criminology, Criminal Justice, the basics. However, this Fall semester, you were only teaching three: Victimology 6113, Violence and the Family 2184, and Psychopathology 6104. 

Dr. Reid and Dr. Matthew taught their Victimology courses on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You had opted for the other, slightly longer option, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sure, you still had an influx of graduate students, but not as much as your male counterparts. Your classes were an hour longer to compensate for the lost time of only having classes twice a week instead of three. 

You liked that kind of schedule, the ability to have more time on Fridays or Mondays to grade papers or fix lesson plans. You had kept it consistent since taking up the position two years ago and were happy to keep it that way. 

So… when Dr. Matthew asked you to fill in for one of Dr. Reid’s Victimology classes on a random Wednesday, you were initially happy to help. You didn’t mind helping out your slightly new coworker. He had done seminars at the university in the past, and when he left the Behavioral Analysis Unit, he took up a position teaching Forensic Psychology. That was all you knew about him, though, other than his name and BAU reputation. 

His graduate students were learning the same material as yours, so it wasn’t difficult to fill in– this one time. 

Then, Dr. Matthew asked for assistance again—this time for an afternoon Friday class. The last time you covered for Dr. Reid, you assumed it was a one-off— a coworker needing a hand. You didn’t think of it when you agreed for the second time. 

Then there was a third…, a fourth, a fifth, and eventually a sixth. You had tried to get out of the fifth time, deciding that enough was enough and that Dr. Reid would have to find his own substitute and not let Dr. Matthew do all his dirty work for him.  However, when you used the excuse that you were behind on lesson plans, Dr. Matthew simply said you could borrow some of his material if needed. 

It wasn’t even halfway through the fall semester, and by the end of September, you had covered at least fourteen classes for this man– your coworker with whom you barely had a relationship. It was getting ridiculous. 

Consistent behavior reflects character, and all you could think of as you walked to his classroom that fifteenth time was Dr. Reid’s character was lacking consideration. It almost seemed cruel at this point. 

At first, you thought you were being dramatic, but then it hit you. You were doing extra work for a class that wasn’t yours—answering questions for students who weren’t in your cohorts. You had every right to be upset with the situation! So, it was natural that your feelings for your supposed coworker were… cold. 

When you did see him, in faculty meetings or passing, you kept your gaze off him with a fast pace in your step. A small, more rational voice in your head suggested that you were being rude or petty. But the more you thought about it, the more you decided that you weren’t. You were a graduate professor with your PhD, the same as Dr. Reid. You had the same amount of classes as him, similar students, and experience in the field (though, in this case, yours was forensically based, but experience nonetheless). You could keep a schedule; you were rarely tardy and rarely canceled classes unless absolutely necessary. Why couldn’t he do the same? 

When October faded into November, you prepared for busier office hours. You were unaware that Dr. Reid did as well. You were also surprised that his office was across the hall from yours. His blinds were closed, but his light was on, and you could see the occasional shadow of him and a student. 

Bitter thoughts surfaced as you stared at the shadows in his office. His students would indeed have questions; he was never teaching! You bit the inside of your cheek at the nasty thought and hung your head for a moment, instead trying to focus on a small stack of ungraded papers. 

Lost in thought, the knock on your door frame made you jump. With wide eyes, you found yourself staring at one of Dr. Reid’s students, and behind him was Dr. Reid himself. “Excuse me,” the student said gently, entering your office. “You mentioned some victim advocacy programs in DC the other day while subbing for Dr. Reid, and I was wondering if you could recommend a program?” 

You pause, thinking briefly before your lips form a slight ‘o’, and nod, “Yes, of course!” You grab a pen and sticky note, writing as you speak, “DC SAFE has a great volunteer program!” You smile as you write the number of an associate of yours who primarily talks with the volunteers. 

Walking around your desk, you hand the sticky note to the student. “Just call that number and tell them I sent you,” You smile as the student thanks you and walks away, but after a brief moment, you realize Dr. Reid is still in the hallway, just staring at you. His big brown eyes seem more hazel under the fluorescent lights of the hallway, and he’s very tall. Was he this tall the last time you saw him? Then again, you don’t think he has ever been close enough for you to notice. 

You force an awkward smile, “Can I help you?” 

He swallows, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face. “No, I mean, yes. I didn’t—" he sighs softly. “I was unaware that your office was near mine—your office hours differ from mine.” 

You draw your lips into a tight line, nodding as your hand motions to your desk. “Yes, we appear to be neighbors.” 

Then, more silence. You watch as he nervously shifts his weight on his feet, his brows knit together, and he opens his mouth to say something when one of your students pokes her head around the corner. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I… go over some material with you?” 

You feel your tight chest lighten as you nod, barely glancing at Dr. Reid as you reach for your door. “Have a nice day, Dr. Reid.” You mutter as your student shuffles past you, and the door shuts in his face. 

The knot in Spencer’s stomach twists as he stands outside Dr. Matthew’s office. All those months ago, all Dr. Matthew had told him about his first absence was that he had it covered. For some reason, Spencer assumed that Dr. Matthew would teach his classes if the BAU needed a consultation. He did not know that it had been you. 

He wasn’t bothered that it was you, no. You were brilliant, competent, and courteous. He observed that his students were grasping concepts well, even with his absences, which he could now credit to your teaching abilities. You excelled at your work. He had praised Dr. Matthew when it had been you all along!

The student visiting him during his office hours had revealed it to him, and everything started to make sense. You were polite but obviously avoiding him. He had taken note of it in September but thought he was simply overthinking it. 

He bites his lip gently as he waits for the door to open. His eyes meet Dr. Matthew’s, and the older man frowns. “Spencer, is there a case? I’ve told you before, that you needn’t—” 

“No,” Spencer says, holding up his hands. “I just wanted to talk to you about who’s been covering my classes.” 

Dr. Matthew looks bewildered as he mutters your name in a confused tone, asking, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, technically, there isn’t a problem.” Spencer watches how Dr. Matthew’s face relaxes, “I was just unaware she was covering for me.” 

“Ah, well, not to worry, she’s very good– wonderful!” He fixes his last choice of words and repeats it, “Wonderful!” Before Spencer can say more, Dr. Matthew shakes his finger– an idea brewing. “You know, she’s around your age! I’m sure the two of you could be great friends– might have plenty in common.” 

“Right, well I–” 

The sharp ringing of the older man’s phone cuts Spencer off. Pulling it out, he frowns and holds up a finger before saying quickly, “Sorry, I have to take this.” Then he retreats into his office and shuts the door behind him, leaving Spencer alone in the hall. 

Spencer finds himself frowning at the dark oak door before returning to his office in defeat. By the time he’s back in his office, he can see you’re gone, and his apology will have to wait another time. 

It’s a Wednesday, and you can feel it in the air—the dreaded anticipation of Dr. Matthew knocking on your door and asking for another favor. You struggle to find an excuse. You’re ahead of grading, lesson plans, everything. You puff out your cheeks as you enter the lecture hall, passing empty seats as you approach the front of the room. 

Setting your bag on the desk, you pull a chair up and get to work setting up. Then… you spot a yellow sticky note stuck to the whiteboard. At first, you brush it off as another teacher forgetting to clean up after themselves. Your fingers pluck it away from the whiteboard, ready to toss it in the trash, and then you see your name written in messy handwriting. 

Your eyes narrow as you bring the note closer to read it. Your name is scrawled in the top left corner, followed by a comma and ‘I truly appreciate you stepping in to cover my classes right before finals. Though it may not be much, there is a chocolate croissant in my office fridge with your name on the bag.– Dr. Spencer Reid’

You blink, then reread it, and again, and again. Then you find yourself briefly smiling, then frowning, then shaking your head, and tossing the note out. Your eyes briefly stay glued to the note in the bin before you finish setting up for class. 

Spencer is happy to see that said chocolate croissant is missing from his mini-fridge when he’s in his office the next day. He moves to sit at his desk when he sees a pink note on the back of his chair. 

‘Dr. Reid, Bribery is low class– no matter how delicious.’ 

Spencer feels his lips quirk up into a smile, holding the note in his hand as he sits. Then, he finds himself doing something surprising, saving it. He places the pink sticky note in his desk drawer, pulling out his yellow sticky notes while he’s at it.

His foot taps under his desk momentarily, and his pen hovers over the colorful paper. He writes a quick message and finds himself quickly waltzing over to his door, opening it, peeking his head to scan the hall, and gently sticking the note on your office door as fast as possible. 

Friday, the construction near your apartment makes it too hard to concentrate, so you head in to get some well-needed work done. When you see the yellow note, it’s barely hanging onto the door, but you can now place the messy handwriting as Dr. Reid’s. 

‘What form of corruption is considered high class?’

You huff out a laugh as you open your office door, tucking the note into a drawer without thinking. You’re eager to turn on your desktop, but as you grade assignments, your mind wanders. 

Your eyes trail over to the pink notes on the edge of your desk. You glance at your screen, then the paper. Your intrusive thoughts win, your fingers wrapping around a pen as you scribble an answer to Dr. Reid. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip as you run across the hall to place the note on his door. 

Spencer finds himself, surprisingly, excited on Monday morning as he spots a pink note on his office door. He doesn’t even unlock his door. Instead, he stands reading the note with an amused smile. You wrote the word ‘Embezzlement’ in large, neat letters and nothing more. 

However, due to the lack of words, he finds it unnecessary to write a note back. Though, he supposes he’s not obliged to. He tucks the pink note with the other one at his desk and works on some end-of-semester grades. However, his mind occasionally wonders about the office across the hall and if you’re inside. 

At the end of the year faculty ‘party,’ Spencer finds himself feeling rather tongue-tied. Dressed in a thick grey sweater, he finds himself stuck to the wall. He misses the team, and for a second, he debates texting Penelope or Emily to see if they can save him from this situation. But he knows that he needs to socialize despite it never being his strong suit. Personally, he thinks that he’s gotten better at it. 

His spot against the wall makes it easy to spot Dr. Matthew and his wife as they discuss something with another couple. He gives up on that route and searches for his friend in the philosophy department. Instead, his eyes land on you. 

Unlike most staff, you’re happily dressed in a festive-looking sweater. He swears that he can see bells and tinsel hanging off it as you talk with another woman excitedly. Spencer lets out a short laugh; it reminds him of something Penelope would wear. 

You’re covering your mouth as you laugh, your eyes sweeping across the room as your giggles shake your shoulders lightly, landing on Dr. Reid for a second. Maybe it is the approaching holidays or the relief that you’re getting a break; you find yourself gracing him with a bright smile. 

Spencer feels a smile spread on his face at the sight and starts approaching you. When he gets to your side, you’re alone. “Hello,” 

You tilt your head up to look up at him, “Hello,” 

This is more awkward than you thought it would be. 

Spencer finds that he didn’t think this through, a surprising development, as he quickly says, “Ugly sweaters originated in the 50’s,” 

Your shoulders fall with that, eyes going soft as you mutter a quiet, “You think my sweater is ugly?” 

“What? No, no, that’s not–” He panics, his cheeks flushing slightly before he sees the growing smirk on your face. “You’re messing with me.” 

“And enjoying it deeply,” 

“You’re cruel,” 

“Payback, I suppose.” 

Spencer feels a stab of guilt in his chest with that, and he sucks in a light breath, “I do appreciate all your help this semester. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, I will gladly do it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Then, the conversation dies off for a second. You watch as Spencer glances around the room, reminiscent of how you looked two years ago. You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t hate you,” you sigh out, defeated. 

You were easy to please, and he had done just that– pleased you. You didn’t hold grudges, and even if you did, watching him now–talking with him really– you knew he didn’t mean any harm by it. 

His eyebrows shoot up, hazel eyes looking into yours, “Did you?” 

You let out a soft ‘mm’ as you flip your palm up and down, “Perhaps, briefly, pre-croissant.” 

Spencer let out a groan, eyes casting downwards as he nods, “I deserve that,” 

“Water under the bridge,” You decide, watching his hazel eyes leave the ground and meet yours with a hopeful glint.

For a moment, you focus on the color of his eyes. A deep honeyed color at first glance, but hints of cool-toned greens prove that idea wrong. Spencer swallows, wondering why he keeps finding himself without words when he’s around you. Perhaps he is scared of saying the wrong thing, further fracturing your relationship. 

“Would it be alright if we exchanged numbers?” You say, watching his eyes go wide. 

“For?” He hates how the question sounds coming off his tongue but relaxes when you smile. 

“Dr. Matthew saved your ass,” He’s still confused, and you can tell by the way his eyebrows furrow. “He told me that you occasionally lend a hand to the BAU, thus explaining the absenteeism.” 

He lets out a quiet ‘ah’ as you stare at him. "But I’d like to communicate better with you in the future. Hence, I am requesting a number exchange.” 

“I don’t plan on repeating–” 

“Nevertheless, just in case,” You insist softly, taking your phone out of your pocket and opening it for him. “I’m not the biggest fan of surprise classes.” 

Spencer nods as he carefully takes the phone out of your hands, careful not to touch your hands. “Of course,” he says, returning the phone after sending himself a hello message. 

You tuck it away as you nod, catching him smiling at you playfully. “What?” 

“Does this make us friends?” 

“Acquaintances, associates at best.” 

“Noted,” He says with a short laugh, watching you shake your head with a broad grin.

[mrsbarnesblog]

the reader has been begging rafe to watch vampire diaries with her because its her favourite show but its always been a firm no. rafe did something ( it can be anything ) and it upset the reader a bit and rafe asks the reader how he can make it up to her and she asks for girl night with rafe. face masks , making tiktoks , listening to music and of course watching vampire diaries

Vampire Diaries

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: none

A/N: thank you for the request <3 Rafe would've definitely pretended to be annoyed but secretly enjoyed it lol

“I'm sorry, baby, okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.” Rafe kneeled in front of you, as you were currently sitting on the couch, endlessly scrolling tiktok and paying literally no attention to your boyfriend. 

You two just had a small argument, and with Rafe’s short temper, it quickly went downhill. Even though there was nothing too serious and you knew that Rafe didn’t want to upset you, it still hurt you a little bit, so you wanted to teach him a lesson. 

“Please? Look at me, pretty girl. I’m really sorry.” He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, leaving a few soft kisses. “How can I make it up to you, huh? Do you want to go shopping? Spend all of my money? Go on a date to your favorite place? Kick me? Just tell me and I’ll give it to you.” 

You were trying so hard to keep back a smile forming on your lips. Because who would’ve thought that Rafe, the big, scary and moody guy, would beg for your forgiveness, literally standing on his knees? You finally put your phone down, looking at your boyfriend and studying him for a few seconds. 

“Have a girls night with me.” You smirked, seeing how his brows slowly furrowed. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Girls night. Masks, snacks, music and vampire diaries are included.” His eyelids lowered, looking at you suspiciously. 

“Were you planning on pulling me into that shit? ‘Cuz I ain’t doin’ that. Told that a million times already, babe.” 

You just rolled your eyes, going back to your phone and acting like you didn't notice the way Rafe was burning holes into you with his stare.

“Are you really gonna ignore me again? I said, I’m sorry.” 

“And you also said that you'd do anything that I asked for. That’s what I’m asking for. Just one night, Rafe. No one’s going to see you being soft and cute except for me, you grumpy ass.” You held eye contact for a few seconds, already seeing how Rafe was hesitating between giving in and continuing to act like a child.

“Fine. But only one time, got it? And you can’t tell anyone about it.”

***

“Did you just take a photo?” Rafe’s head snapped towards you and you innocently bit your lip, locking your phone and putting it away. 

“Maybe… But you look really cute, just wanted to have it for myself.” You smiled at him, moving closer on your bed and fixing a few strands of hair that fell out of Rafe’s white bunny headband. He did look cute, laying and watching your favorite series only in his gray sweats, with no shirt, and most importantly, with a Hello Kitty sheet mask on his face. 

Before that, you had already cleaned and exfoliated Rafe’s face while sitting on top of him, which was the only reason why he didn’t complain every second, and then you brought all the possible snacks from the kitchen and took your favorite masks with you. It took quite some time to convince him to put it on, but a few kisses worked just perfectly. 

As the twenty minutes on your timer went off, you took both of your masks off with Rafe mumbling “finally” under his breath, and with another bag of chips, you snuggled into your boyfriend’s side. “Vampire Diaries” that you convinced him to turn on were currently only on the third episode, and you looked up from Rafe’s shoulder, noticing that he was actually looking at the screen. 

“I told you that it’s good.” You giggled, shoving chips into your mouth and then giving a few to Rafe. His hand wrapped tighter around your body, bringing you even closer. 

“It’s not.” 

“Then why are you watching it?” You arched your brow when he looked down at you.

“Because you told me too. You know that I hate this type of stuff, right, babe? This girl shit is not for me.” 

“Whatever you say, Rafey.” Your hand stroked his bunny ears, which were still holding his hair, then cupped his face to place a kiss on the lips. You knew that Rafe was just being stubborn and that he actually was enjoying your evening together; it was obvious by the way his body was in the most relaxed state possible, there was no usual annoyance, and he had that look in his eyes. The one that you always saw whenever you two were alone, when you were wrapped up in each other’s arms, when you made him happy and safe. “Thank you for this. It means a lot to me.” 

“ Anything for you, baby.” Rafe softened, lips curling in a lazy smile, as he caught your lips in another kiss. “Now watch your goddamn show, or I’m gona turn it off.” Rafe pulled away, playfully rolling his eyes at you, yet still looking back at the screen, now also too hooked on to miss any second. 

[muiitoloko]

Hi, first of anything I love and ate up every single thing you wrote. That said I NEED a story where Sev is about to be a dad, they are both in the last week of pregnancy just waiting for the moment the little girl (why do we all see him as a baby girl dad tho?) and he's just reflexive on how his life is right now after suffering so much and thinking he would die alone. If you want to add the birth and baby birth that's even better 💔 thanks.

Title: The Twin Stars in Snape's World

Summary: Severus's world shifts entirely with the birth of his daughters, filling the shadows of his past with light and love that he never thought he’d experience.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: It’s not exactly what you asked for, but I was already working on a third chapter for my fanfic Daddy Snape's Dilemma, and your request totally nudged me to finish it up and post it! Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

The final week of your pregnancy arrived, and Severus Snape was, without a doubt, more nervous than you had ever seen him. Over the past months, his protectiveness had gradually intensified, but now, as you neared the end, it had reached an almost comical extreme. He refused to let you out of his sight, shadowing your every move with the intensity of a hawk, his tall, lean figure looming close no matter where you went.

At Hogwarts, his vigilance took on a new form. Snape had all but bullied Dumbledore into hiring a temporary teacher to cover your Ancient Runes classes. You could tell Dumbledore found the whole thing rather amusing, indulging Snape’s demands with a patient, almost fatherly tolerance. As for Snape, there was no humor in it—his determination was fueled by what seemed to be genuine, bone-deep fear.

Instead of teaching, you were relegated to a bedroom at the back of the Potions classroom, with Snape popping in between his own lessons to check on you. You had never seen him so anxious, his usual stoic facade cracking more with each passing day. He would pace outside your quarters, shoulders tense, the dark circles under his eyes deepening. Despite his best efforts to hide it, he was deeply stressed, behaving as if he were the one about to give birth.

You noticed that this worry manifested in another unexpected way: the matter of naming your daughters. Every day he would bring you lists, scrolls of parchment filled with options he had painstakingly compiled, poring over the names with the same scrutiny he’d apply to brewing a delicate, dangerous potion. Each name had to be perfect, meaningful, and worthy.

He had presented you with everything from mythological names to obscure, poetic words he’d found in ancient texts. You, however, had a different approach. “Severus,” you said one evening as he handed you yet another list, his expression serious, “I know you want to have everything planned, but… we’ll know their names when we see them. Don’t you think?”

Snape’s gaze turned sharp, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if the suggestion was almost sacrilegious. “And what if we don’t?” he retorted, his voice low and pointed. “What if we look at them and realize we’ve failed to give them names that reflect who they are meant to be?”

You bit back a smile, reaching out to touch his hand, feeling the tension radiate from his slender, calloused fingers. “Severus, we won’t fail them just because we haven’t decided on names yet. They’re our daughters—they’ll be extraordinary no matter what we call them.”

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as he looked down at you, the intensity in his gaze softening. “I’m merely trying to… prepare. It is my responsibility as their father to see to it that they have everything they need—even a name that will protect them from the start.”

His protectiveness tugged at your heart, and you squeezed his hand. “You’re already giving them everything they need, Severus. They’ll have you.”

Snape’s expression shifted, a rare vulnerability flickering across his angular face, though he quickly hid it. “Yes, well…” he muttered, glancing away. “I still believe we should at least shortlist a few options.”

Over the next few days, you managed to narrow down the lists together, though every time you thought you’d settled on something, he’d return with yet another alternative he deemed equally worthy. It became almost endearing, watching him struggle with his need for control over something as uncontrollable as birth.

You chuckled one evening, teasing him, “You do realize, Severus, that the girls might decide their names for us? They could arrive and look nothing like any of these.”

His frown deepened, though a hint of amusement flickered in his dark eyes. “They will look like you,” he replied, his voice almost possessive, as though that was an immutable fact. “And if they resemble you, then any name I choose will be worthy.”

In the quiet moments, you could see past his impatience, his need for everything to be just so. He was terrified. The great, imposing Severus Snape, who had faced dangers most wizards could scarcely imagine, was terrified of this unknown journey. And though he hid it behind his meticulous planning, his anxiety was evident in every line he wrote, every name he researched.

One night, as he sat beside you, poring over yet another scroll, you couldn’t help but place your hand over his, stilling his movements. “Severus,” you said softly, your voice gentle, “it’s all right to be scared.”

He didn’t pull his hand away, but he didn’t meet your eyes, his jaw tight. “I am not afraid,” he replied, though his tone lacked conviction. His voice was softer, almost strained. “I simply… cannot afford any mistakes. Not with them. Not with you.”

You placed a hand on your belly, feeling a gentle kick as if one of the babies could sense his unease. You guided his hand to the spot, letting him feel the movement.

“They’re already telling us they’re fine,” you whispered, smiling as his eyes softened, a faint blush creeping up his pale cheeks. “And you’re going to be an incredible father.”

For a brief moment, the tension melted from his face, replaced by a rare, unguarded expression. He watched you, his hand lingering on your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles over the spot where he’d felt the kick.

“Two girls,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice filled with a strange mixture of awe and dread. “I don’t know if I’m prepared for this.”

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, your heart swelling with love for this man who had, against all odds, become so much more than you’d ever dreamed possible. “You’ll be ready, Severus,” you assured him, your voice full of conviction. “They’re already lucky to have you.”

In that moment, as he held you close, his face buried in your shoulder, you knew that no matter what names were chosen, no matter how unprepared he felt, your daughters would be loved beyond measure. And for Severus, that was the truest magic of all.

Snape sat at his desk, his gaze flickering over the rows of students carefully attempting the day’s potion. A faint curl of distaste tugged at his lips as he caught sight of Potter, who, as usual, seemed perilously close to ruining his cauldron’s contents. Snape had already reprimanded him once that morning, his words slicing through the dungeon air with the sharpness he reserved for the boy. Yet now, as he sat in silence, the other students barely daring to breathe, his attention drifted elsewhere, pulled toward thoughts far removed from the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Just behind him, a faint rustle and creak filtered through the door to your shared quarters. The faint sounds of movement as you stirred from sleep. A warmth crept into his chest, breaking through the stoic shell he maintained with such precision.

As his gaze returned to the students before him, he felt the familiar, bittersweet pang of Lily’s memory—his first love, and his greatest regret. For so long, her shadow had been his constant companion, filling him with a cold, unrelenting ache. Protecting her son had become his purpose, his penance. And after her death, he had accepted that this mission would likely be the only meaning his life would ever have. There had been a time when he thought he might die carrying it out—perhaps even hoped for it.

But then you had entered his life.

A sigh escaped his lips, almost inaudible beneath the simmering of potions and the scratch of quills. The world had shifted when you came into it, and now, with the prospect of your daughters’ arrival in only three days, he felt that shift more acutely than ever. A sense of purpose, something wholly separate from his debt to Lily, had taken root within him.

You had given him a reason to live that went beyond atonement. The life growing within you, two delicate lives entwined with his own, felt like a redemption he had never believed possible. For the first time, he could imagine a future not defined by sacrifice and solitude, but by something richer, something gentler.

Snape’s hand tightened briefly around the edge of his desk, and he watched his students, their heads bent over their cauldrons, oblivious to his thoughts. He had spent years mastering his emotions, transforming them into weapons, shields, armor against the outside world. But now, he realized that he could no longer afford to wield that armor so thoughtlessly.

These children, his daughters—they would be born into a world fractured by war, a world where he had a role to play in the coming darkness. Yet for them, he could not allow himself the luxury of despair or surrender. For the first time, he couldn’t imagine simply fading away into the shadows after Voldemort’s defeat. It was no longer an option to leave this life without knowing that his daughters would grow up strong, safe, and surrounded by the kind of love he had never known.

As the thought took root, Snape’s jaw tightened, a new resolve settling over him like a cloak. He would survive this war. He would survive, not because of some duty to the past, but because of a responsibility to the future—to his family. He would see his daughters grow up; he would teach them, protect them, stand by their side as they learned about the world and perhaps even found their own places in it.

For once, the prospect of living beyond the war held something other than pain. A faint vision of two young girls, with bright eyes and curious minds, drifted through his mind. His daughters, growing up, asking questions about the stars, about potions, perhaps even about love. And you—by his side, guiding them with the warmth he could only hope to echo.

The shrill sound of a student’s cauldron hissing sharply brought him back to the present. He narrowed his eyes at the offending student, who paled under his glare and quickly adjusted the heat, stammering an apology. Snape stood up abruptly, his dark eyes narrowing as he prepared to address the room. But before he could say a word, a loud crash echoed through the dungeons as the door to his quarters burst open.

He whipped around, dark eyes narrowing, but whatever sharp retort had been on his lips vanished as he took in the sight before him.

There you stood, gripping the doorway, your face flushed, one hand braced against your lower back and the other cradling your rounded belly. The look on your face was equal parts determination and alarm, but it was the words that followed that sent his heart racing.

“It’s happening,” you gasped, your voice shaky but clear.

For a moment, Snape stood frozen, your words echoing in his mind, the meaning of them almost surreal. Happening? He glanced down, his mind racing. Surely not—

His thoughts halted abruptly as Ron Weasley’s voice, loud and tactless, filled the silence. “Why’s she peeing herself in front of everyone?”

Hermione’s horrified gasp quickly followed, and she smacked him on the arm, whispering furiously, “She’s not peeing herself, Ron! Her water’s broken! She’s giving birth!”

That was all it took to snap Snape out of his stunned stupor. The babies were coming—now. Much earlier than planned. His eyes widened, and he lunged from behind his desk, moving to your side in an instant, his usual composure nowhere in sight.

“Merlin,” he muttered under his breath, one hand hovering awkwardly near you, unsure whether to support you or hold back in case he only made things worse. “You… you’re sure?” he stammered, though he immediately realized how absurd that question was.

You managed a small, pained laugh. “Quite sure, Severus.”

His mind raced as he attempted to regain his bearings. The portkey to St. Mungo’s—they’d had it prepared weeks ago, but it had seemed more like an overcautious precaution at the time. Now, with the urgency of the situation hitting him, he felt his calm shatter.

He shot a look around the classroom, and his gaze landed on the nearest student—Hermione Granger, who was watching with wide eyes, clearly understanding the seriousness of the situation. “Miss Granger,” he barked, his voice laced with barely concealed panic, “fetch Professor McGonagall. Tell her to cover this class immediately.”

Hermione jumped to her feet, nodding fervently as she dashed from the room, her own nervous energy amplifying the urgency. Meanwhile, Snape turned back to you, his heart racing as he tried to mask his worry.

“Severus,” you breathed, clutching his arm. “The portkey—”

He nodded quickly, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yes, of course.” His hand moved to his robes, fingers fumbling as he retrieved the small, inconspicuous glass vial enchanted to transport you both directly to St. Mungo’s.

He held the vial up to you, and you grabbed it, your other hand gripping his arm tightly as the room around you vanished in a whirl of colors. The bustling noise of Hogwarts faded, replaced by the sterile quiet of the St. Mungo’s ward as you both landed in the reception area, nearly stumbling from the sudden shift in location.

A Healer rushed toward you both, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. “Mrs. Snape—oh my, it’s early!” she exclaimed, gesturing to an available stretcher as she signaled to her colleagues. “Let’s get you to a delivery room.”

Snape’s hands hovered near you, his face a mixture of worry and focus as he helped you onto the stretcher. As the Healers moved you down the hallway, he kept pace beside you, his long strides easily matching their quick pace. He reached out to take your hand, gripping it tightly as you squeezed back, the intensity of the contractions beginning to set in.

“You’re doing fine,” he murmured, his deep voice steadier than he felt. “Just breathe.”

A faint smile crossed your face despite the pain. “Severus Snape, giving breathing advice. Now I’ve seen everything.”

He quirked an eyebrow, though his expression softened. “Mock me all you like, but keep breathing.”

The Healers moved efficiently, ushering you into the delivery room and setting you up as Snape hovered close, his dark gaze flicking anxiously between you and the medical staff. He could feel the old fear surfacing—the fear of the unknown, the helplessness of standing by while others took over. But your hand in his grounded him, your presence reminding him that he was exactly where he needed to be.

A Healer turned to him, her expression calm and reassuring. “It may take a few hours, Professor. These things are rarely quick, and with twins…”

Snape’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, settling into a chair beside you, his hand never leaving yours.

Hours passed, though they felt like mere minutes to him. He was acutely aware of every moment—the sound of your breathing, the tightening of your grip during contractions, the reassuring words from the Healers. He remained silent, his face a mask of concentration, his own discomfort forgotten in his focus on you.

The hours stretched, each contraction increasing the tension in the room. Severus remained by your side, his hand firmly gripping yours, his dark eyes watching every move the Healers made with suspicion. But the moment the lead Healer suggested you get up and walk to help progress the labor, his calm snapped.

“Walk?” His voice, usually controlled and low, rose sharply, filled with uncharacteristic alarm. “You expect her to walk in this state? Are you out of your minds?”

The Healer, a kindly-looking witch with graying hair, gave Severus a reassuring smile, accustomed to nervous fathers. “Professor Snape,” she began gently, “encouraging movement can help speed things along. It’s quite common, especially with twins.”

Severus’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his face paling even more. “Common?” he echoed incredulously, his gaze darting from you to the Healer. “My wife is in labor, Madam, with twins, and you want her to walk about like she’s merely out for a stroll?”

Despite the contractions, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his outburst. “Severus,” you managed between breaths, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “It’s fine. I can walk a little.”

He looked at you, his dark eyes wide with concern, clearly torn. The thought of you enduring even the smallest discomfort was driving him nearly mad. “If—if you’re certain…” he muttered, though his grip on your arm was firm as he helped you out of bed, as if preparing to catch you at the slightest misstep.

The Healer guided you both down the hall for a short, careful walk, Severus muttering under his breath with every step, shooting fierce looks at any Healer who dared suggest you keep moving. When you paused, wincing as another contraction hit, he practically growled at the Healer. “If there’s any risk to my wife or our daughters…” He let the threat linger, his face a mask of furious protectiveness.

Finally, you were able to return to the bed, and though the labor continued slowly, Severus remained at your side, holding your hand and murmuring soft reassurances. His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed back your hair, the love and worry in his gaze evident even as he tried to keep his composure.

It was nearly dawn when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by a cheerful voice that could only belong to Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster entered, his arms laden with trinkets, including tiny stuffed owls, a miniature cauldron, and a set of rattles that jingled softly. He looked as though he had raided the entire children’s section of Diagon Alley.

“Severus, my boy!” he called warmly, his blue eyes twinkling as he approached. “I heard there was a new arrival or two on the way. Ah, and Minerva!” He turned, gesturing as Professor McGonagall entered, a faintly amused smile on her face as she took in Severus’s tense form by your bedside.

Dumbledore began to hand out trinkets, placing the little toys on the table near your bed, each accompanied by a soft hum and a lemon drop he popped into his mouth with relish. “The finest wares from Diagon Alley,” he declared, his tone bright. “Only the best for the future Misses Snape!”

Minerva moved closer to you, her expression softening as she reached for your hand. “How are you holding up, dear?” she asked, her Scottish accent laced with warmth. “Severus here has kept us all quite informed on your progress. I daresay I’ve never seen him in such a state.”

“Nor has anyone else, I assure you,” you replied, managing a tired smile. Severus shot Minerva a look that could have melted cauldrons, though his hand never left yours.

Dumbledore continued to rummage through his collection, holding up a small toy wand that emitted a shower of harmless sparks. “I thought this might suit,” he said with a wink. “We must start their magical education early.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Healers gave the signal. Severus held your hand tightly, his face a mix of awe and terror as the final stage of labor began. You saw a single tear slip down his usually composed face, his grip tightening as he whispered, “You’re incredible. I— I am so proud of you.”

The Healers wheeled you down a quiet, dimly lit corridor, Severus’s tall, shadowy form looming beside you, never letting you out of his sight. His dark eyes, usually hardened and calculating, were softened with a mixture of awe and profound vulnerability as he took in every detail of the room being prepared for the birth of your daughters.

The faint echoes of magical murmurs from the Healers filled the room as they adjusted the equipment and spells needed. Severus moved to your side, his long, slender fingers brushing against your hand with a tentative gentleness. You could feel his nervous energy, the intense worry that he tried so desperately to mask beneath his stoic exterior.

As the contractions intensified, he bent down, his pale, angular face close to yours, his hair falling forward to shield his expression. His deep voice, usually sharp and guarded, softened as he whispered, “I’m here. You’re not alone, amore.”

The Healers instructed him to step back slightly, readying themselves for the delivery. Though he complied, his piercing gaze never left you, as if he were willing every ounce of his strength to help you through this moment.

Moments later, the room filled with a powerful, almost sacred silence as the first cry rang out—a thin, wailing sound that sent a tremor through Severus. One of the Healers approached, cradling a tiny, wriggling form swaddled in soft white fabric, and extended her towards Severus. His expression froze, and for a split second, he seemed almost paralyzed by fear.

The Healer’s voice was gentle. “Would you like to hold your daughter, Professor Snape?”

He nodded, though his hands trembled as he reached out. Carefully, she placed the baby in his arms, her tiny face peeking out from the blanket, her features so delicate and small they seemed otherworldly. Severus looked down at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. His usually cold demeanor melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelming tenderness that softened every line of his face.

“She’s…” His voice faltered, thick with emotion. His eyes glistened, and he swallowed hard, blinking back tears as he took in every detail—the soft curve of her cheeks, her tiny fingers curling into fists, her miniature nose. She was perfect, and in that moment, he realized he would do anything to protect her. He bent his head, his deep voice a reverent whisper. “You’re perfect.”

Just as Severus seemed to settle into the awe of holding his daughter, your voice cut through, strained yet filled with strength as the next contraction began. He looked up, his dark gaze flickering between you and the tiny life cradled in his arms, torn between staying with his newborn daughter and being by your side.

“Severus,” you managed, breathless, a smile breaking through the exhaustion, “go on… be there for her.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a beat, his expression raw with admiration, before he gently passed the baby to a nearby Healer, ensuring she would be safe. He crossed the room quickly, his dark robes sweeping behind him as he returned to your side, his long fingers slipping back into yours. You felt his grip, firm and unyielding, grounding you, as he whispered encouragements, his voice unsteady yet filled with pride.

Minutes later, a second cry filled the room, high and clear, and you saw Severus’s shoulders tremble with relief and elation. One of the Healers brought over the second newborn, a twin as delicate and perfect as her sister, and Severus stared at her, his heart swelling in his chest.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice choked with a depth of feeling he rarely revealed. He took her into his arms, his slender fingers cradling her small head, his thumb gently tracing her cheek. His usually cold, intimidating face softened into something unrecognizable, a fierce love that lit his dark eyes with an intensity that left you breathless.

As he held her, the first Healer approached, bringing the other twin over to you, her tiny face nestled in the blanket. Your heart filled as you looked down at her, at the small, precious life you had brought into the world. In that moment, the room felt full of magic, not the kind that could be taught or brewed, but the kind that was born out of love, pure and unconditional.

Severus looked over at you, his expression softened beyond recognition, his piercing gaze filled with an almost painful tenderness as he watched you holding your daughter. For once, his stoic mask was gone, replaced by the vulnerability of a man who had finally found something worth living—and dying—for.

“They have your eyes,” you whispered, noting the dark lashes and tiny features, a hint of his unmistakable presence in them already.

He nodded, speechless, his voice catching as he tried to speak. When he finally found his words, they were barely above a whisper, his voice thick with emotion. “They’ll have your spirit… your kindness. And they’ll know they are loved.” His gaze met yours, a profound, unspoken promise shimmering in his eyes.

He reached out, his long fingers gently touching your cheek, and for the first time, you saw the walls he had so carefully built around his heart crumble, replaced by the love he had tried so hard to hide. Here, in this room, with his daughters in his arms and you by his side, Severus Snape had found his redemption. And it was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

[marali-iin]

Sharpwolf (Antinous x Telemachus), is the peak of "Enemies to Lovers" BUT only before "Hold Them Down". HEAR ME OUT-

Yeah, I know Antinous beats the shit out of Telemachus in "Little Wolf" but THAT'S LITERALLY THE FRICKIN POINT. I know I've always said I hate enemies to lovers, but you know what I hate even more? BAD EXECUTED ENEMIES TO LOVERS. They're supposed to be ENEMIES, not rivals, which people often confuse. "But it's toxic-" TOXIC MY ASS THEY'RE LITERALLY THE TROPE. Enemies are supposed to hate each other, to want the other to suffer, to DIE, they have to be ruthless against each other, because they're supposed to have opposite views of something and be hostile because of it. Antinous and Telemachus are literally that trope

Now, if it's after "Hold Them Down" FUCK THAT, I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE. I can accept attempted murder, but I draw the line at rape. I can forgive the first two thirds of the song, when Antinous plans to kill Telemachus and break his bones? Enemies at its peak. When Antinous plans to then rape Penelope? GET THAT AWAY FROM ME I'M GLAD THE DUDE IS NO LONGER ALIVE.

I'm slightly disappointed that they had to make the suitors literally rapists so they "look bad", they were shitty enough as they were, in the original Odyssey they never try to rape Penelope, and yeah I know it was to build anger, even I fell for it and I get so fuckin angry. But still, I think we as writers in general often fall for whenever trying to make a character be disliked immediately turn them into a rapist, I've fallen for it, some of my writer friends have fallen for it, I've seen it in books and fanfics. It's normal, I'm glad we collectively hate rapists, but it's still a cliche I'm not ready to accept.

And just to circle back to the original topic and finish this, Antinous and Telemachus have so much potential for enemies to lovers. Antinous simply wants the throne? Telemachus is right there, younger than Penelope and more naive, easier target to manipulate, enemies manipulate each other. Telemachus wants to kick all the suitors out of his home? Antinous is literally the leader of them, manipulate him. Imagine both of these scenarios at the same time, both trying to use the other for their own benefit. And that's the point of Enemies to Lovers, hate each other at first, wish for the other's downfall and slowly start warming up to each other, realizing the flaws of your own view and how they're not that bad. Add a redemption arc and we're good to go, the problem with rapists is that they have no redemption (except Deidamia from Song of Achilles, I'll eventually talk about that but just to make clear in this house we DON'T hate her. Suck it up) That's why I REFUSE to work with post "Hold Them Down" Antinous.

So yeah, that was my rant for today, take this as a lesson. I can really, reallyyyy hate a trope, but I'll always hate more a rapist and a badly executed trope. I have standards

[theladybrownstarot]

MONTHLY-READING

2024 APRIL 2024

Pick a card reading ~

❀ Here's my masterlist for more !

❀ Make sure you like/reblog/follow/Comment for more pacs like these !

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

𐙚 Pile 1 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-

☪︎ You people are seem to be very focused in the initial period of april , i can sense that very tough strictness and focus of oneself for their goals and giving best no matter what happens . You are being told to trust your decision, guts and instincts no matter how appealing other's would feel to be . You people will be on high energy and focus throughout the month but very high during the first phase of april .

☪︎ later oh wow oh wow this is a confirmation that whatever you worked hard for will yield results , i sense that you will be highly recognised for your enthusiasm. You will my god very much transformed and will get all that clarity you always wanted for things long time back if any . People are going to be very attracted to you plus i see people helping and appreciating you . You will be in the spotlight . Overall the continued thing will be in a good progress too .

☪︎ The last phase of april will be all about planning and executing the new things and ideas or for before if you couldn't . If you maintained same energy of being focused and disciplined you will get ahead 2 times of the road like that I'm sensing in the reading like maintain yourself and give your best no matter because it will be the test of your commitment and all the lessons you worked hard for .

☪︎ You going to be chilling with your friends by partying and talking plus i see right people coming in your life too . The energy of all people reading this will be balanced just don't overthink a lot.

𐙚❀˖° Monthly Advice : I sense that most of you lost something or lost to something which hurted you and made you heart broken . The advice here is to let your tears flow so the negatives can be out . Try to love yourself by doing what you want so you can come over the past because you haven't completely . Your prayers are heard just be more greatful for what you are and have and control your anger .

❀ prominent zodiacs and houses: Gemini , libra , Aquarius, leo, aries , saggitaurus , virgo, taurus, capricorn, 1st house, 5th house and 3rd house .

𐙚 Pile 2

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading :-

☪︎ Your first phase of April will be all about planning and then executing , getting various ideas and projects getting done . Don't be so conscious about all your decisions because you can really thrive in through it just implement and surrender to universe .

☪︎ The second phase of April will bring some changes within yourself that will leave you making more confident about yourself . Your plans will bring very strong stability and foundation for something new . You will quite become famous and i see wealth or money coming in some sort also that you will be quite getting more responsible and serious about your things and life in general , i see a major lesson or realisation hitting in anyway .

☪︎ Third phase of April or the last phase will be all about equal give and take of your assets like knowledge , experience , money or anything with others and helping them also .If anyone wants to start a business or something new then different through something then its a really good time for it . You are protected and loved by universe .

𐙚❀˖° Monthly Advice : Universe says that wake up and stop sleeping , stop getting scared and anxious and make a step . You will be connecting with you highest self a lot .

Be generous and kind .

Give yourself some break .

You are taking something to seriously .

Give that exhausted and tortured mind some break .

Reshuffle your priorities, schedule and routine .

❀ Prominent zodiacs and Houses : Aries , scorpio , 8th house , virgo , taurus , capricorn , gemini , libra , Aquarius , 3rd house and 2nd house .

𐙚 Pile 3.

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :-

☪︎ The first phase of April will be quite confusing for you , you may feel stuck or confused about the way or any thing you feel . Try not to merge or do many things at a time rather do one thing at a time otherwise you may create a complex mess for yourself . You must have dragged something which needed your logic but you didn't which has led to agony and all thigs that i have discussed above for this mess to be clear get your logical side and do not listen to your heart . You will or need to make some final choice regarding something because the more you will drag and delay the more frustrating and tough it will be for you .

☪︎ In the second phase Of April i see you grabbing some opportunities and starting something new ahead , I feel the second phase without much of any fuss or mess and more clear and stable energy . Just go for what you want and inspires you because qualification needs to be a later thing for you . This will be a small new start .

☪︎ The third phase of April or the last phase will be about getting to know something or some big changes that will be revealed to you as a surprise . The shift in perspective will be coming in for you . From here the universe will set you on something big like really something big and you will be starting by seeing the trailer in your life or within yourself , universe will make you realise something deeply . It feels like a big mission or realising your mission.

𐙚❀˖° Monthly Advice : you had be wise to watch and trust no one at this time. keep yourself to yourself and do not buy into any fears or chaos that's being stirred up around you . you know the truth so stay strong. Still someone vunerable needs you and secret is a being shared .

Be honest with yourself .

Look at the people around you something lies in there .

❀ Prominent Zodiacs and Houses : scorpio , pluto ( planet), leo , aries , saggitaurus , pisces , cancer , 11th house and 7th house .

©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing or copying of work will be a punishable offence.