#but that scene where the adults just all slap each other a bit is kind of silly

[hannahmanderr]

DannyMay Day 31 - Free Day

Words: 6,341

Summary: How do you convince someone to allow you to get yourself killed for them? (rewrite of a scene from "Reign Storm"; takes place a bit further down the timeline)

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Danny brushed the flyaway strands of hair from Valerie’s sleeping face. The sight of the burns and bruises dotting her skin filled him with an array of emotions - rage, terror, anguish, drive - each of them their own force to be reckoned with. He inhaled shakily.

Tucker and Sam inched closer to him. He didn’t need to see their faces to know they were looking at each other with that worried glance that they thought he never noticed. They could recognize one of his spirals before it even happened at this point.

“Dude, you can’t blame yourself for this,” Tucker said in a gentle whisper. He placed a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” Sam’s eyes echoed the sentiment.

Deep down, Danny knew his friends were right. They’d been over the whole guilt thing before, and logically, he knew he couldn’t pile all the blame on himself. “Maybe not,” he admitted, even as flashes of everything that had happened in the past few days fluttered across his mind - provoking Vlad, provoking the other ghosts, pulling the Soul Shredder from the football field… Each one taunted him, singing songs of his failures and shortcomings, whispering his fears of not being enough back at him.

And yet there was another voice too, a sweet soprano voice peering through the clouds, serenading him with a different set of memories. 

“I think I might’ve finally figured out what these powers are for…”

“So even with everybody thinking you’re a bad ghost, you’re still gonna try to be the hero?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta. Hey, if not me, who’s gonna protect this town? Besides, it’s not like I can ignore a scream for help.”

They bled together in a dulcet harmony and wrapped around his core and made it resonate with a sudden burst of clarity, reminding him of his purpose and his reason why he even tried in the first place.

Just like that, he knew what he had to do.

He turned and looked Tucker dead in the eye. “But it is my responsibility,” he said, the sincerity and boldness firm in his voice. 

Before either of them could say anything, he stood and transformed. As his core flared to life, the surge of power coursed through his veins and strengthened his resolve for what he was about to do. It was almost enough to quell the wave of fear beginning to wash over him.

Almost.

No. He couldn’t focus on that. Now was not the time. Shaking his head, he grabbed each of his friends’ wrists and shot upward, setting them on the roof in front of the short addition Dad had added to house their defense system mainframes.

“Tucker, I need you to get working on hacking into the ghost shield,” he instructed as he phased his hand through the door to jolt the lock out of place. “With it working overtime to cover such a big part of the city, I don’t know if it’s gonna be easier or harder.”

“You want to take it down?” Sam asked, visibly confused.

Danny shook his head. “Just temporarily. I’ll explain more in a minute.” Except would he? Could he bring himself to explain just how far his plan went? Could he trust the two of them to avoid panicking and keeping him from what he knew he needed to do?

First things first. Sighing, he said, “Get working on that. I’ll be right back, I gotta grab something.” Without further explanation, he dove through the roof again, making a beeline for the basement.

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Maddie’s brow furrowed lightly as she watched her husband’s sleeping form. She’d insisted on taking him up to bed a couple of hours ago after overworking himself trying to get the ghost shield’s range increased and alerting the town. Even in his sleep, his breathing was labored, and tremors from the nerve damage wracked his body.

Curse that sleazy rat of a man, Vlad! He’d been the one to persuade Jack to use the Ecto-Skeleton’s lower half in the first place. And that was after Jack had told him use of the incomplete Ecto-Skeleton could be fatal! She closed her eyes to keep from seething. If only Jack hadn’t given in to Vlad’s sweet talk…

But Jack was an honorable man, especially to the people he held dear. Of course he’d follow Vlad’s suggestion. He trusted the man he believed to be his best friend, and she knew he loved her enough to move heaven and earth for her, to lay his own life down to protect hers. His fierce loyalty was one of the things she loved most about him.

It was what inspired her to do what she was about to do.

Two floors down, in the basement, sat the Ecto-Skeleton that she’d finished only half an hour ago. Well, nearly finished. The work was hardly her best, what with it being a rush job, and she still had yet to perfect the neural receptors. The suit was far from being safe for use, but with the threat of this self-proclaimed ghost king looming over her town, she had little other choice. 

She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss into Jack’s forehead. “I love you so much,” she whispered before standing and leaving their room.

As she made her way downstairs, she peeked in her kids’ rooms. Jazz’s was dark and empty; Maddie figured she was still outside, helping keep panic from spreading. The thought made her smile. It was a job Jazz was born for, especially with her love of therapy and psychology.

Danny’s room had the light on, and Damon Gray’s girl, the one who’d been injured during the initial wave, was still on the ground, propped up on a beanbag chair. Oddly enough, though, her son and his friends were nowhere to be found. It was strange, considering she’d just told Sam and Tucker a few minutes ago that she’d seen Danny and Damon’s daughter up here a while ago (the initial sight of them both asleep in his room had set off her mom alarms, but given the fact that he was on his bed while she was on the floor and there were far bigger things to be concerned about, she let it slide).

Maddie sighed. There wasn’t time to hunt the three of them down. She’d have to cross her fingers and hope they were somewhere safe and out of trouble - perhaps helping Jazz.

Steeling herself, she shut Danny’s door and headed down the stairs. She dashed into the kitchen and opened the door to the lab only to run into Damon.

“Oh, my bad!” he said, catching her arm. “I know we wanted to monitor the shield and the probe as close as possible, but I haven’t seen Valerie in a bit and I want to make sure she’s okay. Is that alright if I go and check on her? I might ask if she wants anything for dinner while I’m at it.”

“Of course!” Maddie answered immediately. “Take as long as you need! Last time I saw her, she’d fallen asleep in Danny’s room. I’m not sure where he or Sam and Tucker went, but she seemed comfortable and safe.”

Damon’s form relaxed just slightly. “That’s good to know.” He sidled past her and towards the kitchen entry. “I’ll go check on her real fast and then be right back down there to help out.”

Maddie smiled. She hadn’t known Damon for long - less than 48 hours, really - but she could tell he was a good man with a heart of gold. The fact that he’d so readily thrown himself into assisting her and Jack warmed her heart.

It seemed like so many people in her life were of such a high caliber. She only hoped what she was about to do allowed her to even measure up just slightly.

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge,” she said, nodding towards it. “Just be careful of what’s in the containment box on the top shelf - trust me, that’s our secondary refrigeration storage unit.”

He let out a good-hearted chuckle. “Thanks so much, Maddie.” He turned to head up the stairs, leaving her in the kitchen alone with her thoughts. Such a good father, she thought to herself before beginning her descent into the basement lab.

The moment she stepped into the stairwell, she knew something was horribly wrong. The air was cold and sharp, so much so that she was certain she was seeing her breath mist in front of her. A heavy, thick presence filled the air, one of worry and fear. Someone was in the lab, muttering under their breath. 

Somehow, she knew exactly who it was.

A careful, silent creep down the stairs proved her right. There, flitting around the Ecto-Skeleton and examining it, was Phantom. In her lab. In her house. Under a ghost shield that had thus far been proven to be impenetrable by any ghost, including the supposed king attacking the town and his knight.

Without taking her eyes off of him, she drew the pistol holstered to her belt and aimed it at him. “Make another move and I’ll shoot you,” she said, surprising herself with the darkness of her voice.

His back was to her when she spoke, but, following her order, he didn’t turn around. “M-Maddie,” he whispered, his voice heavy with dread. “Please, I’m - I promise this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Really? Because from where I stand, it looks like you’re in the middle of sabotaging the one hope anyone has of saving this town!”

“Sabot- Really?” He turned around to face her, but didn’t move closer. She gripped the trigger just a little tighter. “Even in the middle of the worst attack we’ve seen yet, you’re still bent on making me into the main problem?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think when I find you tampering with our weapons?” She did find his insistence to turn the situation into something revolving around him haughty and very typical for him in particular, but she held her tongue about the issue for now. Unlike him, she was focused on the real problem at hand.

Phantom huffed, a move that should’ve been impossible for a being without lungs. “I’m not tampering with it,” he said with strained patience. “I’m trying to figure out how to get in this thing. Or where the ‘on’ button is, or something.”

“And just what do you plan on doing with it?”’

“Seriously? What do you think I’m gonna do with it?” He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I have to stop that guy!” he exclaimed, pointing up and vaguely out of the house.

“Even if I believed you,” she scoffed, “you have no right to invade our home and steal our invention to use for your own gain!”

Without warning, his face grew suddenly somber. Before Maddie’s eyes, he seemed to age years beyond his portrayed age. For the first time since discovering Phantom’s existence, she wondered if his teenage stature was a conscious choice or merely the body he’d had when he died.

That thought chilled her to the bone.

He lowered his gaze to the floor. “It isn’t for my own gain,” he said quietly. “It… I know you don’t believe me, but I really am doing this for you. For everyone.” Then in a near whisper, he said, “It’s my responsibility.”

Maddie narrowed her eyes as she pondered his words. The claim was the same as it had been since day one: he was trying to be the hero, the one good ghost in a sea of evil ones. He hadn’t wavered from that, except for a few times, which, admittedly, could be counted on one hand. At least he was consistent, if nothing else.

She just couldn’t make sense of it. The MO went against everything she and Jack understood about ghosts. If she were to accept his claimed intentions as true, it would mean dozens of theories, hundreds of hours of heated discussion and research, many attempts at creating basic behavioral profiles, they’d all be thrown out the window.

Not to mention the inherent danger of letting their guard down. Ghosts were notoriously tricky, and their ability to do things beyond human capabilities made them even more dangerous of a threat. Phantom especially was one who seemed harmless at first, but who had displayed impressive, terrifying power (and the potential to take it even further). He, like this ghost king, could probably raze the town in less than an hour if he really wanted to.

So… did he want to?

She studied his body language closer. His eyes were still fixed on a distant spot on the floor, and they were glassy as his own thoughts raced through his head. Though he seemed more serious, more battle-worn, he also seemed to be retreating into himself, making himself try and appear smaller than normal. It was hard to believe anyone who looked so solemn and resigned could be secretly plotting to wreak destruction. 

“No one ever said it was your responsibility,” she said, matching his tone. 

He smiled wryly. “I know,” he admitted with a one-shoulder shrug. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Maddie sighed deeply and holstered her weapon, much to Phantom’s astonishment. She crossed the room and laid a hand on the cold titanium exterior of the Ecto-Skeleton. “It doesn’t matter if it’s your responsibility or not,” she said. Now was not the time to decide ground-breaking things about his true intentions. More important things were at hand. “You won’t be the one using this.”

He glanced up at her, then to the Ecto-Skeleton. His gaze flicked back and forth a few times, growing wider as the realization of her implications hit him. “No, no,” he breathed. She jolted when he caught her wrist; his touch was freezing, but unexpectedly gentle. “Mo… Maddie, you can’t! You saw what that thing did to… to Jack, you can’t seriously expect to go up against a ghost that powerful with that thing!”

She didn’t know how he knew what had happened to Jack, but frankly, she didn’t care at the moment. “It’s the only shot we have of defeating him,” she said soberly, pulling her wrist away. “I have to do it.”

“No one ever said it was your responsibility.” Of course he would stoop so low as to use her own words against her. 

“Figures a ghost wouldn’t understand the concept of putting your life on the line for the ones you love,” she muttered. There wasn’t time for this nonsense!

His eyes became thunderous. “That’s just - I’ve…” he stuttered, accentuating it with a shout of exasperation. “Argh, you have no idea what I do and don’t understand! Are you telling me that’s what this is all about?”

“What, proving a factual point to you? I shouldn’t -”

“No, trying to be some self-sacrificial hero for everyone!” he shouted, spreading his arms. “Like why choose now of all the times to play the martyr?”

“It hasn’t been necessary until now!” She hoped her eyes were as piercing as she wanted them to be. Phantom’s inability to understand this only helped prove her and Jack right about his hero act being just that. The fall into familiar territory only marginally soothed her frayed nerves. “My family is in danger. I’m not just going to sit idly by and let them get hurt!”

He lowered his arms and regarded her with a stony expression. It was difficult not to flinch under his gaze, and she got the same aura of a battle-worn boy that had washed over him earlier. Her heart fluttered faster and faster.

She was nearing her breaking point of lashing out just to stop that piercing stare of his by the time he finally did something. Sighing, he hung his head low and, so very quietly, said, “I know.” 

That… hadn’t been quite what she was expecting. “You know?”

“Yeah. I know. You’re always looking out for the people you care about. You’d never just leave them hanging.” He lifted his head and she found herself taken aback by the reverent, proud twinkle that had taken its place in his eyes. He smiled sadly. “It’s always been one of the things I admire most about you.”

Her mouth opened and twisted, but no words came out. Where did she even begin with a statement like that? The idea that he’d been watching her, possibly Jack too, closely enough to form some sort of attachment sent her heart dropping into her stomach, but it was quickly wrenched back into an anxious thump as she realized the implication of him holding admiration.

It should’ve been a distinctly human conception. Ghosts did not admire one another, they couldn’t. They were too proud of themselves and their own power to look into another and find something to emulate. Their individual powers and cores were their entire world.

So how was Phantom demonstrating the exact opposite of that?

She wanted to shout. She wanted to bang her fist against the Ecto-Skeleton. She wanted to stomp her foot and throw something. Why did he always have to do this? Waltz in and out of their lives, poking careless holes in their life’s work? It wasn’t fair! Before he’d shown his face, they’d never held a shadow of a doubt that their theories were true.

But now, though she could never admit it truly, he had forced her to second-guess herself. She couldn’t help but doubt everything she’d ever known as his otherworldly green eyes bore into her own.

She hated everything about it with every fiber of her being.

He raised his eyebrows in concern as she floundered for a response. “Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I didn’t - well, I did mean what I said, I just… didn’t mean to say it.”

Her own eyebrows frowned, but softly. “If you admire that about me,” she said slowly, not believing the words coming out of her own mouth, “then you understand why I have to do this.”

His smile faded in tandem with the twinkle in his eye. “I… I understand why you think you have to do this,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t.”

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” she snapped. This game of cat and mouse was growing on her last nerve, and with each minute that passed, she knew the ghost king grew closer to launching his final assault.

For some reason, it made her angrier that his face was one of solemnity again, not anger. Anger, she could deal with. Angry ghosts were easy.

Ghosts that supposedly admired humans and understood self-sacrifice weren’t.

He bit his lip. “I’m not - no, I’m not trying to… to tell you that you - you’re not allowed to think that way,” he tried to explain, stumbling over his words. “I know I can’t stop you from believing that, and - and that’s fine. I get it. I’m the same way, even if you don’t believe me. I just… What I’m trying to tell you is that you - you physically can’t do this.”

Her frown deepened now into one of perplexity. “Why not? The Ecto-Skeleton is right here. It’s the only thing that could possibly work against that ghost.”

“Sure, you could take it,” he said, “but I keep trying to tell you, you saw what that did to Jack, and that was only the bottom half! Do you really think you’ll be able to use the whole thing and be okay?”

Again, the question of how he knew these details crossed her mind, but she shoved them into the back of her mind. “It may still be glitchy,” she admitted. There was no sense lying to him about the issues with the neural interface; if he knew it had hurt Jack, he probably knew it was still highly dangerous. “But it’s what I keep trying to tell you: there isn’t another choice.”

“Maddie, please.” She could hear the frustration growing in his voice. “This isn’t - it’s not a choice that exists! You really think you’re gonna be able to take that thing and stop him?”

“I’ll stop him or I’ll die trying!” she bit out. 

Phantom looked like her words had just punched him in the gut. “Yeah,” he said hollowly. “Yeah, you’ll try. And one way or another, you’ll end up dead, whether it’s the king or the suit that gets to you first, and then what? What’s supposed to happen?”

She didn’t answer. The way it played out in her head, she imagined the Ecto-Skeleton being enough to cripple the ghost king, at least to the point where someone else, even another ghost could come in and take care of the rest of him. The way Phantom phrased it, though, he made it sound like she’d barely make a dent in his defenses before she got killed.

And the worst part of it was that she was inclined to believe him. The suit’s pants really had sapped such a huge chunk of Jack’s energy in such a short period of time, and though she and Vlad had managed to remedy some of the interface’s complications, there hadn’t been nearly enough time to fix them all, and none of the three of them were quite as familiar with the level of programming knowledge necessary to fix them quickly. 

In other words, with the top half of the suit, using the Ecto-Skeleton as a whole was just as dangerous as it had been with the bottom half alone. She knew this perfectly well. For her to use it - for any human to use it - was practically a death sentence.

And Phantom knew this too. He stared at her, hard and intense. “If you take the suit and go off to fight him,” he told her in a low voice, “you’ll die. And he won’t care. You’re just a puny little thing to him. You’d be nothing more than some annoying fly to take care of before he continues on his warpath. And then what?”

Still, she hesitated. She refused to admit he was right, even as he continued to speak. “You’d be handing this town, your family - everyone over to him if you take that thing. He’ll destroy it before someone else can use it against him, and then it’s game over. Especially if we’re right about it being the only chance.” 

Though his face remained cloudy, there was something else behind his eyes that made them gleam with an anxious shine. Could he actually be… worried about her?

“Then what am I supposed to do?” she whispered. She couldn’t stand how her voice shook with fear and uncertainty. It was a vulnerability she couldn’t afford to expose, not now. 

He straightened and turned to look at the Ecto-Skeleton. “I already told you,” he said, laying his hand next to hers on the suit. “You’re not gonna do anything. It’s gonna be me that takes it.”

“What?” She blinked once, twice as she tried to process what he said. “You’re going to use it?”

He drew in a shaky breath (again, something that should’ve been impossible for him to do) and nodded. “No human could ever have enough power to survive this thing long enough to fight off Pariah Dark.” His exhale was just as shaky. “But I’m no human.”

It was her turn to flick her gaze back and forth between him and the suit. “You can’t possibly expect-”

“Maddie.” He closed his eyes. “You’ve been watching and hunting me for a while now. You know my power, probably better than even me.”

He pressed his forehead against the metal and stilled. She watched him with a frown, but it was impossible to read him. For all that a ghost was supposed to be easy to understand, Phantom was the exact opposite.

“I don’t like to admit it,” he said quietly after a long moment. “I can’t… it’s not easy for me. I don’t like acknowledging what I’m capable of.”

In a flash, he opened his eyes and looked at her. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. Just as quickly, he turned his eyes to the ground. “You know just as well as I do that I’m more powerful than I like to let on. We both know that I have a lot more power than just about any of the ghosts that show up around here. I… I’m the only one who even has a shot at stopping him.”

It was strange, hearing him so openly admit his power. He was probably telling the truth about not liking to acknowledge it; most ghosts loved to flaunt their power (the Wisconsin Ghost immediately came to mind), but Phantom tended to exercise restraint in that sense. Oh sure, he loved to mock his opponents and tease them when he was able to get one up on them, but things never escalated beyond battle banter.

But he was right. All of the measurements they’d taken of him, as marred by inaccuracies as they could be, put him at a level 7.3. The average level of the ghosts that attacked the town varied between 3.5 and 5.8. If he wanted to, he could take out those ghosts without breaking a sweat.

And yet he didn’t.

Nothing about him made sense.

“So you think you can actually beat him?” she asked. Normally, the question would’ve been laced with skepticism and venom, but at this point she was beyond it. Dealing with Phantom and his… eccentricities was exhausting, and that was on top of the fact that her husband was nearly bedridden at the moment, her kids were nowhere to be found, and an all-powerful ghost was about to descend on her town.

Yeah, she couldn’t bother to be scathing.

And, though she’d never admit it, as the conversation dragged on, she was beginning to become accustomed to his expressiveness. It was a sort of expressiveness that was human in the most uncanny way, and she couldn’t help but fall for it, even if it was an act. She found herself unwillingly believing his claims more and more, and it was having an effect on how she was viewing him.

To her, right now, he seemed less like the sassy trickster she and Jack had pegged him as, and he seemed less like the valiant hero he tried to be for the town. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was simply a scared boy who’d bitten off more than he could chew. It was too easy to forget the sheer power that pulsed underneath his skin.

And scared he looked. He folded his arms and gripped his biceps, tucking his chin towards his chest. His face was drawn tight in an anxious frown.

“You want the truth?” he asked so quietly, she almost missed it.

“Obviously.”

A tiny shudder rippled across his body. “I don’t know.” His fingers dug deeper into his arms as he kept his gaze fixed below him. “I don’t know.”

Whatever words she’d been preparing to say were ripped straight from her mouth, leaving her stunned and uneasy. Never before had Phantom allowed himself to be so… vulnerable in front of someone. Or admit doubt in his own ability. For him to do so now was unnerving for a number of reasons.

Thoughts and theories whirled around her head in a violent cyclone. The implications this show of vulnerability had…

No. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by that, not right now. There was something a little more immediate that needed to be addressed. “So wait, you won’t let me use the suit because you think I won’t be able to hold out, but you think you can use it even though you don’t even know you can hold out?”

“I at least have a better chance than you,” he said indignantly. Some of the fire in his eyes reignited, but the fear that remained betrayed him.

“But you’re not planning on coming back, are you?” she accused. “You don’t think…”

The words didn’t need to be said. They both knew exactly what she was alluding to.

He sighed, then set his jaw and looked her square in the eye. “I’ll go to whatever lengths I have to if it means you’ll be protected.”

All she could do was shake her head in disbelief. “Why?”

A weak laugh bubbled past his lips. “Like I told you,” he said with a crooked, feeble grin, “it’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

The two of them stood there (or floated, in Phantom’s case) for what seemed like an eternity, especially when the threat of the king loomed over their heads. She didn’t even want to try to tackle the subject of him holding her as a role model; with a brain that felt like it was full of static, she didn’t trust herself to try, either. As it was, she could barely process this situation.

Phantom. Clearly scared out of his mind. Ready to fight for the town to the point of fading. If she hadn’t been here experiencing it for herself, she’d never have believed it.

The fact that he hadn’t simply taken off yet baffled her further. There was only so much she could do to prevent him from leaving; they both knew that. So why not just take the Ecto-Skeleton and go?

He was waiting for something from her. Something physical, or the answer to some sort of question he hadn’t voiced out loud. It had to be the reason.

She suspected she knew what he was waiting for her to tell him.

“No,” she finally said, her voice hoarse. “I can’t let you.”

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Danny’s heart dropped as his mom spoke those words.

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. What was she thinking? Wasn’t she supposed to hate him? Phantom, anyway? Shouldn’t she be perfectly fine with the idea of him meeting an early end to his afterlife?

At least more fine with the idea than he was?

“M-Maddie,” he said, stumbling over her name for the umpteenth time. Normally, he was so careful to make sure to call people by the names that the proper Danny would know. For Danny Fenton, his parents were Mom and Dad, but to Danny Phantom, they were Maddie and Jack. Something about this conversation, though, just kept leading him to slip ups.

Maybe it was the fact that he was talking about going off and offering himself up like a lamb to a slaughter in front of his mother of all people?

He shook his head. “I know you don’t trust me, but I won’t let you stop me.” 

Would she have to push hard to keep him from going, though? 

He’d been hoping to snag the Ecto-Skeleton and fly out of there before he had a chance to really think about what he was doing, but now, thanks to this conversation, he was starting to lose the same resolve he’d found up in his room. Most of what he was showing to Mom was a false mask of confidence at this point.

Speaking of Mom, she hadn’t reacted to his pushback yet. She was preoccupied with staring at a faint smudge of oil on the shiny metal of the suit. Without her hood, he could pick out the rampant emotion in her eyes that had been present this whole time, ever since she put the gun away. What she was thinking about, though, he had no idea. He didn’t have the same talent for reading people that Jazz did.

“It’s not a matter of trust,” she said eventually. She clenched her hand into a tight fist and averted her gaze even further. “It’s… you have to realize, I… I can’t…”

He felt his face soften in sympathy. “You can’t let someone else take the fall for you,” he finished for her. “I get it.”

She apparently hadn’t been expecting him to say that. Her eyes jerked up to meet his, and behind them, he could practically see the gears in her head churning faster and faster as she tried to make sense of it. 

He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore, he’d said so many things he would’ve never admitted in a million years at this point. Like telling her he admired her heroism? What was he thinking? After so many months of carefully guarding his secret, what on earth had possessed him to be so careless with this stuff?

Despite his own anxiety, he tried not to shy away from her intense gaze, as difficult as it was. Like worse than when Jazz was getting ready to serve him with a lecture.

The bottoms of her eyes scrunched up in absolute befuddlement. “Who even are you, Phantom?” she finally whispered.

His expression of sympathy relaxed even further into a frown weighed down by nearly a year of sleepless nights, sacrificed grades and relationships, and scrapes and bruises from being thrown into streets and buildings. “Just someone who wants to help.”

Mom narrowed her eyes further. He was really beginning to hate how he could not figure out for the life of him what was going on in her head. Frankly, he was still half-convinced she would pull out her gun again, shoot him, and take the suit anyway. Had telling her she wouldn’t change a thing against Pariah Dark been the right way to go? Would it just make her even more stubborn?

At least he knew what side of the family he got his stubbornness from. 

It was also getting harder to resist the temptation to just grab the suit and run. After all, she really couldn’t do much in the way of stopping him, what with a handy thing called intangibility, and, with his courage waning by the minute, the idea seemed more and more plausible. Not to mention that as each second ticked by, the Ghost King grew closer to launching his final attack. 

Time was running out.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to take any more, Mom abruptly drew her fist away from the suit and stepped back. Her eyes were closed tight. “Go.”

He had to do a double take, he could hardly believe his ears. “Are you-”

“Just go, Phantom!” The tension in her jaw was visible and obvious. Even still, quieter than before, she added, “Before I change my mind.”

A single tear slipped from the corner of her shut eye, and Danny’s heart shattered.

This… this was all wrong. How could he do this to her? Ask her to allow her own son to go up and face almost-certain death? When she didn’t even know it was her son she was talking to? And then the fact that if he really didn’t return, she’d never know the truth…

In one shallow, shaky breath, he made another decision.

Carefully, he floated toward her and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Thank you,” he said, pouring as much warmth, sincerity, and gravity into the two words as he could.

She cracked open her eyes to look at him, and then, before he lost the guts to do so and before she could stop him, he said, “You… you asked me who I am.”

This time, Mom opened her eyes fully and regarded him with confusion. Clearly, she’d been expecting him to bolt the minute she gave her permission. “Look, I already-”

“If I don’t - if something happens to me…” he interrupted, cursing the waver in his voice. The fluttering in his stomach was quickly becoming unbearable. “... you’ll find the answer in… in your son’s room, taped to the back of his bed.”

That definitely elicited a response from her. “What does - how…?” She couldn’t find the right question to ask as the emotion in her eyes suddenly turned to panic. Well, that was reasonable at least. He’d just confirmed some involvement of Danny Fenton.

He smiled weakly, apologetic and sheepish. “He’s fine, I promise. Just… yeah. Consider it… a failsafe.” One that he’d prepared months ago, after the incident with Freakshow. Nothing more than a letter explaining the truth. He’d hoped he’d never have to resort to using it, that he’d be able to tell Mom and Dad in person, but…

Her brow knitted together. It was agony, not being able to know what she was thinking. He could only hope she wasn’t about to turn on him for getting too close to her son.

“Well,” she said after what felt like an eternity. “Don’t make me need to use it.”

Without another word, she turned and walked towards the staircase. When she paused on the fourth or fifth step, he could only float there as she looked over her shoulder at him, one last time, her eyes wet and bloodshot.

The corners of her lips turned upward. “Give him hell, Phantom,” she said. And then she was gone, leaving Danny alone in the basement.

He watched where she disappeared up the stairs for a long moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that in terms of last words to hear from his mother, those were definitely not the ones he would’ve expected to hear. 

He could live with that.

Huffing a short breath, he shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus. No more worrying about Mom and what she thought of him, or if she’d go and find the letter anyway, or why she even let him go in the end. No more dwelling on the fact that he was probably living the last minutes of his life.

It was go time.

He grabbed the Ecto-Skeleton by one of its arms and hoisted it into the air, phasing back up through the ceiling to meet back up with Sam and Tucker.

[awrkive]

[TEASER] THE LOVE PROGNOSIS (m) — JJK.

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. that girl who thought the guy she met at 19 at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. the girl who thought that her boyfriend at 21 would finally be The One after he introduced her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. you’re the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 1.2k words for this teaser but the fic currently is at 22k words (heavily unedited). the final estimate is around 30-35k 🤓

WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, weddings and engagement themes, the angst is a bit extreme (medium level tbh) on this one, it’s the… yearning? one sided-love?, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, multiple sex scenes (will specify once the fic comes out), i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me. the full list of warnings will be indicated when the full fic comes out 🙏🏼 anyways warnings particularly for this teaser: drunk oc, implied alcohol consumption, germaphobe jk lol

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! i wanted to do something for jk’s birthday this september and this is what i came up with 😭 i am so soooo so incredibly excited to announce this fic to you guys 😵‍💫 ive been working on this on and off since the last week of july and its currently at 20k words so its coming along really well 🫂 its gonna be a HUGEE HUGEEE fic since its estimated to be around 30k words which will be a first for me hehe <3 pls look forward to it and REPLY TO THE COMMENT SECTION IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST (pls do not send an ask for taglist request 🫶🏼) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK!!!!! I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS <33333

[ TLP MOODBOARD ]

READ FULL FIC HERE ❗

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it. A huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies. “The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him. As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up

ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed

— your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2024. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works are not allowed.

[erospandemos]

Some things never change

NewJeans Danielle x Reader

Where Danielle tries everything in her power to make you understand her feelings

Beta-reader: @leafostuff

You had known Danielle Marsh all your life, from when she was just a little kid to now that she's a fully grown adult, although her height kind of stopped halfway. You met her in the first days of elementary school. She must have looked weak to the other kids with her two missing teeth, thin legs, and pale complex, so a group of rascals started messing with her.

They would call her all sorts of names with their limited word knowledge, mocking her with gestures and weird sounds. They'd also push her around or make her trip and fall. Even though their mind was still limited, they already had a knack for bullying.

You happened to be around her when you witnessed one of those scenes. All it took was a slap and a threat and the kids fled away. It was just a normal thing for you, as fights were very common at that age but for Danielle, you were her saviour.

"Are you okay?" you asked her worryingly.

Amidst her sniffling, Danielle managed to reply, "Those bullies were teasing me. But you made them go away, so thank you."

You felt a bit bad about her. Her eyes were so red from crying and she kept rubbing her eyelids to dry those endless tears. "Don't worry Danielle. They will never tease you again. I'll always be here for you," you reassured her, not knowing what kind of promise you were making.

What followed were days, weeks, and months of annoyance. Danielle followed you everywhere you went, pestering you from the morning to the afternoon—always talking, always joking, always asking.

"Thank you for helping me!" she told you. "Jinyoung hasn't been mean to me anymore! I love you!"

You were annoyed. You let her talk and kept walking, "He was just being an ass. It's nothing special."

She began to be your shadow, a silent companion seeking solace. A girl looking for a friend, or at least that is what you and she thought. There was already something present in her heart but you just didn't know it yet. But kids learned quickly.

It was a random day in April when she made her first move.

"My parents taught me that I should hug the ones I love. Can I hug you?" Danielle asked you, her eyes earnest and pleading.

You were caught off guard but still nodded hesitantly. You opened your arms and she stopped closer, embracing you tightly. She found comfort in your warmth and kept you there close to her. You didn't know why she did that but you liked it too.

Then a couple of months later, you were invited to her house. You and her parents got to know each other and figured it would be a good occasion for you two to bond together. At her house, there was a very nice illustrated book for children. The kind to have small but enormous sentences. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she brought it out from her desk to show it to you.

"It's a story about a prince who married the princess he saved. Don't you think that it's so... cool?" She said, her eyes wondering between dreams and fantasies.

"Yeah, I guess," you replied. You didn't fully grasp the implication of the tale. You just liked the drawings.

"You saved me from the bullies, just like the prince. Maybe... maybe we could get married someday?" Danielle confessed, blushing.

You chuckled nervously, still oblivious and clueless.

Things also got more complicated when she caught you talking with a girl from your class.

"Who's she?" Danielle asked, laced with jealousy.

"Oh, this is my friend from the class, Seo-yeon," you introduced her, unaware of her stern demeanor.

"Well, she better not try to steal you away from me!" she declared, pouting and crossing her arms.

You laughed nervously again, not understanding what she was trying to say, and apologized the poor Seo-yeon who was receiving the possessive gave from Danielle.

That was more than ten years ago. But now that you were both grown up, things didn't change at all.

You're reading the book you've been saving up for weeks, finally free from the exam season of college. It's been a relaxing day, as it's been the first full break you could take and you decided to just replenish your energy by doing nothing all day. The day was good outside but you didn't feel like going out at all.

But you did not know that the outside would visit you instead.

A too-familiar figure barged into your room, with a familiar voice and force. "Hey! Your mom said I could come in. Hope you don't mind," Danielle exclaims.

You look up, surprised. You have to bid goodbye to your book because there was no way she would've left the house now.

"Uh, hey. No, not at all," you say, recollecting yourself. Looking around, you could see the mess the room was left in but after all the times your friend had seen, it wasn't much of a problem. You just left it as it was.

Danielle approaches, her grin widening as she eyes the book in your hands. She lowers her head and reads your title, not because she is interested, but because it could be a potential reason to tease you.

"What fascinating world are you escaping to today?" Danielle asks you.

Before you can respond, Danielle snatches the book away, dramatically flipping through the pages, not a word passing through her eyes.

"It's a great book, you know," you say before she can judge you. But that wasn't her intention. Danielle tosses the book aside and, with a sly grin, moves closer to you.

"Boys, your age don't really stay in their house all day, shouldn't you go outside?"

You raise your eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?

She clears her throat, "Well, you know, all boys go around picking girls, shouldn't you be interested in girls too? Especially me..."

"Books are interesting enough," you say, annoyed.

Danielle sighs heavily and slaps your shoulder. "You really don't get it do you...? Whatever," she says, "But do you know what's even more interesting than books?"

Without waiting for an answer, Danielle wraps her arm around you, pulling him into an unexpected side hug. You, visibly annoyed and embarrassed, squirm from the surprise and try to claw out of her grasp. But it just gets tighter. "Danielle, seriously, what are you doing?" you stutter.

Danielle chuckles, enjoying your annoyed remarks, and lets her other arm get you too.

"Just playing with you."

You try to pull away, but Danielle persists.

"Can we not do this right now?" you say. Danielle rolls her eyes and sighs before releasing you.

"Oh, come on. Just having a bit of fun," she says, pouting.

She playfully pokes your cheek and laughs.

"This is ridiculous."

Danielle seizes the opportunity and leans closer, circling your thighs. "You know, a little embarrassment never hurt anyone," she says and eyes you up and down, locking her eyes with yours. "Besides, you're kinda cute when you're flustered."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Why are you doing this???"

She laughs, finally satisfied, and lets herself fall on the couch. "You know," she speaks truthfully, "there's something about you that's just too irresistible."

"Yeah, you aren't the only one."

Suddenly, you feel Danielle's intense gaze on you. "Who else is teasing you? Girls?"

"Sometimes?"

"Oh, that's not good. They have to know you're taken."

You raise an eyebrow. You don't sense anything good coming. "What are you talking about now?"

"I was thinking, maybe I should leave my scent on you. You know, like marking my territory. That way, other girls will know you're taken."

You blink repeatedly, utterly bewildered.

"Leave your scent? Danielle, we're not animals."

Danielle chuckles.

"Just imagine it – you walk into a room, and everyone's like, –Oh, they smell like Danielle. They're off the market!–"

"You've been watching too many nature documentaries."

"Shut up and come here."

Danielle snuggles closer, her energy warming the room and your body. You feel her arms quickly wrapping around your body and her legs tangling into yours and before you knew it, she was already spooning you. After all these years of doing so, she has gotten quite good at it. "You know, you really should loosen up. It's just a cuddle between old friends."

You shift uncomfortably, a bit against her although her lively insistence was stronger than your will. "Danielle, seriously, we're not kids anymore. We can't just... cuddle like this."

She tilts her head, studying you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on! Don't be such a grown-up. We used to do this all the time when we were kids. It's nostalgic!"

You sigh, giving in a bit. "Yeah, but things are different now."

Danielle was a slim girl, petite. She felt small although you were the one under her grasp, and her limbs were delicate and fragile. She felt small but soft as well. She was an adult now, and her touch made your heart beat faster, in a way it never did.

Danielle grins, unphased. "Different doesn't have to mean worse."

"But seriously," Danielle says with curiosity, "you used to be the one initiating these cuddle sessions. What happened to that fearless little kid?"

You blush, a rare occurrence for the reserved you. "Well, things change. People change."

Danielle's eyes soften, and she nudges you gently. You can smell her perfume and it calms you. "Change isn't always bad, you know."

You can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. Danielle, her head still nestled against your shoulder, can't resist the opportunity to tease you. "You know, I always thought you were the bravest little knight in our little adventures when we were young."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "A knight, huh? I'm not sure I see the resemblance."

Danielle chuckles, tracing imaginary patterns on your arm. A soft red starts to appear on your cheek. "Oh, please! You were my protector, always ready to face imaginary dragons and monsters. What happened to that fearless warrior?"

"Well, maybe I outgrew the knight phase."

Danielle leans back, looking at you with a sly grin. "Outgrew, or maybe you're just afraid to admit that deep down, you still have a bit of that brave knight in you."

You roll your eyes, but a small smile lingers on your face.

"Did you remember when I told you I'd be your princess? I still mean it you know?" she says, as if it was nothing.

You realize the meaning of her words and can't fathom any response, and Danielle can't help but enjoy the gentle blush that colors your cheeks. She teases you further, "You're blushing, Mr. Grown-up. Who would've thought the mighty knight would be so easily flustered?"

You mumble something incoherent, avoiding her gaze.

That was typical of you and your friend: constant teasing and joking. But you knew you wanted something more from her and you were just running around, trying to avoid it. One day, however, it finally came to you, knocking at your door, and you had to face it head-on.

You hear a loud frantic knocking on your door. The sudden noise surprises you and you get slowly, weary of who might be on the other end. The knocking doesn't stop and you look into the peephole. To your surprise, it wasn't a killer coming for you but it was your friend, Danielle, and from the looks of it, with her disheveled hair and tired eyes, she wasn't looking so good. You open the door and she bursts inside your apartment, drenched from head to toe, dripping water everywhere.

"Whoa, Danielle! What happened to you?" you exclaim.

She shakes herself like a wet dog, sending droplets flying, and brushes her wet strands away from her forehead to look at you in the eyes. "Caught in a sudden downpour. I practically swam here!"

You chuckle and walk to the bathroom. "Don't move!" you tell her as you go grab some towels. You don't want her wetting the whole house as well. "Well, you certainly look like you went for a swim."

Danielle takes the towel, but instead of immediately drying off, she shoots you a mischievous grin. "You look quite excited about seeing me, don't you?"

You raise an eyebrow and look at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Danielle pretends to inspect her soaked clothes with exaggerated concern, scanning her shirt, and her skirt. She opens her arms and invites you to look at her clothes. "Oh, no. I think these clothes might be see-through now. But I'm sure you already noticed. I can feel you glued on me."

You immediately understand what she's trying to say. You roll your eyes and grow. "Danielle, come on. Don't be ridiculous."

She smirks, wringing out her hair over the towel. "Ridiculous? Or am I just giving you a little peek? You know it's fine. I didn't tell you not to look."

You blush, trying to play it cool. "You're impossible. I'm lucky it's just the two of us. Otherwise, I might get in trouble." You hate to agree with Danielle, but it was impossible for you not to notice her figure, perfectly feminine, perfectly grown, and perfectly beautiful. You gulp loudly and stare at the wall.

Danielle giggles, sauntering over to me with a playful twirl of her wet hair. "Well, I can't let you miss out on the view, can I?" She laughs again as you shoot a quick sideeye at her. "Oh, did I catch you looking again?"

"Come on! No, I didn't."

Danielle comes closer, she's having fun, too much fun. She sways her hips, brushing your chest, leaving wet handprints on your shirt and looks at you with such a teasing smile that you couldn't do anything but blush and back intot he wall. "Oh, don't look away, baby."

"Danielle, cut it out," you stammer, my cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultrier tone. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're not enjoying this."

You try to look away, but Danielle continues to playfully tease you. Then she laughs, finally satisfied.

"Okay, okay, I'm just messing with you!" she confesses, wiping away a tear of laughter. "I couldn't resist seeing you squirm."

You sigh in relief, but your embarrassment lingers. "You're unbelievable, Danielle."

She giggles while running away.

You go to your room to pick up some clothes for her, unfortunately you got nothing else to give her but your own clothes. You try the smallest size possible, so at least she wouldn't have to swim in them. You smell them first, to make sure, she won't be annoyed by an unwanted smell, then think if she'd feel cold or not—the house was quite warm on the inside. You knew she always liked to wear shorts, so you get a pair and a shirt and sweater to match.

You hand her the clothes, "Here, these should be more comfortable than wet clothes."

Danielle, takes them and smiles brightly. "Oh, I didn't know you were such a considerate boyfriend," she says. You start blushing but this time she's blushing too between her creased cheeks. You chuckle nervously, dismissing the comment.

"It's nothing," you say and then point the bathroom. "You've already been here before. Go change there or take a shower if you want."

"I'll just change, thank you. Don't peek at me though, okay?"

"What are you saying? Of course I won't," you reply.

She grins and runs into the bathroom to put on your outfit. It doesn't take her a while before she emerges wearing your oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair slightly toused. You have to admit, she looked adorable. The way the hoodie was way too big for her, and how the shorts let you peek at her legs, it was amazing.

It almost looked like she was your girlfriend, and she knew it too.

"Look at me, wearing your clothes," she says, raising her arms. "It's like we're in some romantic drama."

"It's just because your clothes are wet. Don't read too much into it."

Danielle continues, batting her eyelashes dramatically. She looks at you with wide eyes. "You've never offered me your clothes before. Are you sure you're not secretly seeing me as your girlfriend?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just clothes," you say, but her words can't leave your mind. You almost agreed.

"But these clothes smell like you," she says, taking a sniff at it. You blush brightly. "Am I stealing your scent now?"

The situation looks absurd and you're getting more and more flustered but still, you had to keep your cool. "Don't overthink it."

She bursts into laughing and jumps into the couch. "You're so cute when you deny things. Maybe I should keep wearing your clothes more often."

Trying to hide his embarrassment, you manage a weak smile. "Sure, Dani, make yourself at home."

You and Danielle keep joking around until something starts to bother your friend. She looks at the sky, more precisely at the rain, as it runs down the window, and her smile starts to fade.

Danielle turns to you and her face drops into a malinconic gaze, her eyes are half there, they're thinking about something else, but you feel the weight on you. "You know, I'm starting to feel like a fool," she says with a sigh.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone. "What do you mean?"

Danielle paces the room, her agitation pouring out with every step. "You've known for ages how I feel about you. I've dropped hints, practically spelled it out, and yet you never do anything."

Bewildered, you look at her. You couldn't lie to her, you wish you could say you never realized it, but you did. You did know she was flirting with you and you did hear what she told you, clearly and explicitly. But you didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to believe it. "I... I don't realize you feel that way. I think we're just really good friends," you say and truly, you didn't think a girl like her would have any serious intentions behind her smile.

She halts, turning to face you, frustration etched on her features. "Really good friends? You and I spend hours together, we share our deepest thoughts, and I've been giving you every possible sign that I like you. How do you miss it?"

You stammer, attempting to find the right words. "I don't think... I mean, I think you're just being friendly. I never imagined you feel something more. I thought you were just messing with me."

Danielle sighs."That's the problem. You never imagine. You never consider the possibility that my feelings might extend beyond friendship. I've been dropping hints, practically shouting them, and you remain oblivious. Did it ever go through your mind?"

You run a hand through your hair, frustration mirrored in your eyes. "I never mean to hurt you, Danielle. I just... I didn't see it."

Her eyes narrow, the pent-up frustration reaching its peak. "That's precisely it. You don't see it. You never see me. It's like I've been invisible, and no matter how much I hint, you never make a move."

Danielle's words knock the air out of your lungs. You've never seen Danielle this riled up and it hurt you to know you were the cause. You take a moment to trace back your words. Have you ever imagined a life with her? Have you ever wanted to have her to yourself? Have you ever desired her?

The answer was yes. You think deeply if it was fair for you to say that only after she basically begged you to acknowledge her, but it was true, you did like her and you didn't know you were allowed to.

Danielle takes another deep breath, attempting to compose herself, but the frustration continues to spill out. "I've liked you for so long. I think you might feel the same way, but you never make a move. I've been stuck in this limbo, unsure if you even see me as more than a friend. It's driving me insane."

Your eyes soften, a mix of regret and realization settling in. "I didn't mean to make you feel invisible, Danielle. I've just been clueless, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

She shakes her head, her frustration giving way to a sense of vulnerability. "It's not just about now. It's about all those moments before, the missed opportunities. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen."

As Danielle's words linger in the air, a heavy silence envelops the room, punctuated only by the sound of rain tapping against the window.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Danielle," you begin. "I've been so focused on convincing myself that you couldn't possibly feel that way about me, that I never stopped to consider how you might be feeling. I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me."

Danielle's gaze softens, a mix of frustration and hurt still lingering. "You're not off the hook that easily. You can't just apologize and expect me to believe you."

You nod. "You're right. I messed up, and I can't change that. But I can be honest with you now. The truth is, I've been afraid. Afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of facing my own feelings. It's not an excuse, just an explanation."

Danielle raises an eyebrow and folds her arms. "Afraid? You?"

You chuckle wryly. "Fear doesn't always make sense. And I guess I've been scared of admitting that I like you too."

Her eyes widen, she's surprised "You do?"

You nod, your vulnerability laid bare. You hope you didn't make a mistake but you couldn't hold it in, it was now or never. "Yes, Danielle. I do. I've liked you for a while, but I never thought you could feel the same way. I convinced myself it was just a dream."

She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, Mr. Fearless finally admits he's not invincible."

You grin, the tension between you starting to dissipate.

Danielle steps closer, a playful glint in her eyes. As the rain outside continues its rhythmic dance, Danielle takes your hand. "No more hiding, okay? Let's figure this out together."

And for the first time, you hug her first. Your hand gently pulls her and she lets herself go, straight into your arms. You hug her softly, but with passion, with happiness. Danielle does the same, for the first time, not to tease you and not to try to make you fall in love because for once, she knows in her heart you truly love her.

THE END

Written, 16 February - 22 February 2024

[kohakhearts]

Ask game- Goh or Gary, 8 and 20? 👀👀👀

thanks!!!! i say…why not both :D and sorry for the resultingly long response lmao

8: what’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

you chose violence with this one fjskfjskd ok side note: i actually dont care about how people want to talk about their faves, like even a little bit. and honestly i support all interpretations even when im like ew why because its fiction who cares have fun etc.

that being said…………..i cannot stand woobification and goh is a huge victim of it in this fandom. like on one side you have the people being like “he RUINED anipoke!!!” so i get where the “he did nothing wrong uwu” thing came from. i do. but he was SUCH a little bitch in early jn and honestly he had his moments later on too! like yeah jokes about jn135 being like a break-up scene are funny because it’s true but also wasnt that SUCH A BITCHY THING TO SAY????? like he wasnt having a cute little insecurity moment he was being a maladaptive JERK. and yes i agree hes insecure but like his insecurity makes him so mean sometimes. and i love that!!! let him lash out and be hurtful and then need to have some sense slapped into him when it causes problems lmao

for gary, idk i guess it’d be like…erasing the fact that he was actually REALLY mean to ash for the sake of the childhood friends narrative lol. like he was a straight-up bully and as someone who was very much bullied by a childhood best friend i find it a shame to erase that part of their dynamic because i think it’s a really important aspect of it imo. like it seems juvenile from an adult perspective ofc but being called a loser and being constantly reminded of your fuck ups by someone who you were best friends with sucks! a lot! and idk that just adds a fun flavour to their dynamic for me because regardless of gary’s reason it still affected ash and i actually really like fics where the author explores the ways it affected him without making gary out to be someone who doesn’t actually care for him. idk if i’m explaining this well i just think that gary being a schoolyard bully and ash’s childhood best friend can coexist djskfjsk

20: which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

for goh i’m gonna say iris. i think they’re both very single-minded and tend to lash out at (or ice out) people who they view as being in their way and/or who challenge their views of the world. and that being said…i think they would challenge each other a lot LOL. i liked iris’s jn debut and i liked the dynamic they established between them, i just think they could get under each other’s skin in a way that would be very productive to them both. friends who hate each other sometimes for pointing out a flaw in the other’s thinking but are ride or die nonetheless

for gary definitely chloe, i would’ve loved to see them interact and i still hate that they didn’t let her meet his umbreon, especially when its evolution is imo really symbolic of his development from someone who sees other trainers as like, people to prove his worth over to someone who sees battles as opportunities for growth alongside his pokemon and a way to establish and maintain relationships even when paths diverge, like with ash. like he was right there!!! the perfect person for her to talk about the uncertainty of the future with!!! also i just think they could have a fun dynamic, especially if they knew each other as children through professors oak and cerise. i think they’d share a kind of understanding that other characters like ash and goh, who are SO ambition-driven and single-minded, wouldn’t be able to get. i wrote a whole fic about this already so i’ve said my piece jdskjdk but just…the potential. what were the writers THINKING :sob:

character ask game

[maddsmallow]

10, 17, 20 for the dbh ask!

10. Least favorite trope?

i dont know if i would say it's my least favorite, but it's the first one that popped into my head as a brainrotted hankcon shipper lmao—when connor is portrayed as a lil helpless baby uwu bean who suddenly becomes essentially hank's maid post-revolution, and when hank is suddenly completely cured of his alcohol dependence once connor moves in/they get together. i want that man to WORK FOR IT, "it" being a healthier life and actual coping skills with his grief. and i'm a big believer in connor being a badass "adult man" who really doesnt need anyone's help but just likes hank with him because of what they went thru together, and they grow from there into something more.

granted, i do understand that we're all just. having fun with fictional characters and slapping these barbies together in whatever ways makes us happiest. so i could sit here and go off on how incorrect it feels to their characters, but i dunno. it doesnt really matter how "canon" it is, it's all just for funsies, so. kind of a weird thing to toe the line between 😅

17. Favorite moments of each playable character?

ooo this is a good one. again, im a brainrotted hankcon shipper, so it's gonna be hard to choose just one with hank and connor haha. probably my favorite with connor is when he's dragging hank to the bathroom to "sober him up" just because they're both such ASSHOLES to each other LMAO, just completely fed up with the other's shit. hank is just a grumpy bitch who wants to wallow in self pity, so even when drunk off his ass he's still putting up a fight with connor by grabbing the doorway to stop connor from taking him further into the bathroom and then straight up trying to walk away from the bathtub. connor is so done with hank holding him back from doing his goddamn all important mission, so when he finally gets the (probably freezing) water going, he deadass just stands there and watches hank flail around for an extra second. JUST to be an ass to hank for being an ass to him. it's SO funny how the two of them are constantly butting heads and then end up basically trauma bonded anyways by the end of the game lmao

if it counts, my favorite kara moment would probably be her realizing she's merchandise in that one short video back in like,, what was it, 2012? 2014? that was sort of the first rendition of an idea for the dbh universe. just, her realizing she's a product and not a person and then begging for her life was REALLY moving, valorie curry's acting there was fuckin top notch. but that's not really part of the game itself, so. hmm. i really love when they're at the amusement park and finally find a place to stay to ride out the storm, but the door is covered in wooden planks that have been nailed in, and (ignoring the fact that there's no reason to assume kara wouldnt have standard android strength and find this action quite easy) kara's this tiny little android trying to rip off the planks, and then big ass luther is just like. allow me. im literally made for this shit. and yoinks em off like they're nothin LMAO. that was the very specific moment i fell in love with luther and wanted him and kara and alice to stay together FOREVER

and for markus, i mean, i GOTTA go with the scene where he goes through the passageway of hands and other android parts in the junkyard. or really just the first scene in it where you take off your bad leg and find another compatible one and the realization sets in that you're in a massive landfill of body parts, and markus has been dumped into a situation where he has to dig through dead and dying people of his own species and take their parts to save himself. the first time i watched it, i literally gasped and covered my mouth with my hand and teared up. it's HORRIFIC, the idea of being in a giant pile of half alive creatures to be forgotten about as you have to take bits of those half alive creatures to attach to your own self to survive. you're now made up of multiple other dead people. it's fucking nightmarish, and the first half of that level is such a punch in the gut. fantastic story telling there

20. What were the hardest decisions/actions in each character's story for you?

oh man so TECHNICALLY i have never actually played the game myself LMAO. i'm just not a gamer, i'm in this for the characters and the shit they have to endure in the story. but i imagine the answer is the same for all of them with being mean to the companions in each story haha. getting hank to the point where he finally uses his gun on himself, making kara leave alice at the "recycling" camp, and i guess markus doing peaceful protests even tho that means soooo many more androids die from his inaction.

thanks for the ask!!

[dont-post-after-midnight]

As disturbing as Claw’s attraction to Gizmo is, I can almost- almost see why she chose him as a potential mate. It’s not like she had a lot of good options. Snout and Noggin are brothers and every other male (those that are male- as Noggin did refer to the clan as ‘brothers and sisters’) seem to be more single minded than her.

Now, if she managed to somehow survive to the 80’s and met Stripe and/or Mohawk, and assuming they are separate characters and not her reincarnations, I’d say they’d make good mate candidates. Stripe, while not linguistically advanced like Noggin or Brain, he’s still fairly intelligent. Probably on par with Claw herself. Mohawk on the other hand, is incredibly strong, being able to K.O an adult man with one punch. Claw can hold her own in battle too…I.g, taking on the fox spirits.

Or she’s just attracted to brave little mogwai…like Gizmo…who just so happens to be her dad-brother😅

Though to be fair…incest isn’t all that uncommon among animals or in all forms of mythology, so…I guess that’s where the creators were going with it.😅

Yeah I can see why she likes Gizmo compared to all the other gremlins too! They seem to have annoyed her throughout the show (like the one who said "I love you" with the skull that she promptly slapped away, or the one who accidentally hit her with a bottle top in the club scene) so Gizmo not only being super cute but also very brave might have been appealing to her compared to the rest.

Now, as much as I like the idea of her being a reincarnation of Stripe and/or Mohawk, I absolutely LOVE the idea of her meeting either of them in the future and being a separate gremlin, I think she'd love them. He's just as evil as the rest, but Stripe is way more reserved and cunning than the others, just like Claw. And then Mohawk being super strong would probably appeal to her as well, and after Gizmo rejecting her she probably wouldn't mind Mohawk beating him up like he does in the 2nd movie😅

The form of mythology I'm most familiar with is Greek mythology and yes they've got a LOT of incest happening there, and I know Chinese has a bit of it too so not too far fetched considering Claw and Gizmo are mythical creatures 😅But I do have somewhat of a weird theory that might make their relationship not so weird:

So gremlins and mogwai seem to reproduce asexually or at least that's the closest comparison you could make with the whole "multiplying in water" thing. The drawback to this method of reproduction though is that there's no genetic diversity in the offspring. So maybe to combat this, every now and then a gremlin is spawned that isn't related to any of the others so that they can mate with another one of their kind and have offspring that are genetically different, thereby ensuring their species can adapt better in the future. It doesn't make a lot of sense in the real world since that's not a thing that can actually happen, but since mogwai and gremlins are magical creatures and it's a fantasy show, I'd say anything goes when magic is involved. So maybe Claw is one of these gremlins that isn't directly related to the others. The only thing I don't like about this theory is that it would mean Claw isn't a sister to Snout, Noggin, and Gaptooth and I really like them being siblings to each other, so maybe not 😒

[harrison-abbott]

young’uns

Sport’s Day, down at the school. 500 people assembled on the primary school to watch the kids muck about with games on the fields. Somebody somewhere thought it would be a good idea to let all the children compete against each other and then single out one of them as the champion – which, throughout all of the years, amounted to a handful of boys and girls, who were then given these plastic medals to make them feel amazing. But, anyway. The adults didn’t quite want to be there. The parents, I mean, and not just the teachers. They smoked on the fence behind the field and the Dads talked about football, the Mothers about other mothers. And quite a lot of them had gotten a tad drunk beforehand too. Hmm. Which made the ordeal of watching their children take these sports gambits seriously a little easier. They’d never become professional athletes. The Dads were cynical about professional athletes already; shaming famous footballers was something they were quite articulate about. … But, there were the occasional believers. Good people. They do exist, you know. Who were just there to see their kiddos run about. … The grass on the fields was thrashed up and if you were to put microphones all around the long playground and record the noise it would be this mass medley of tinny voices – the hoots and pops of the young’uns – altogether in a crazed humanistic birdsong. And some of the kids won and most of them didn’t. This was one of the largest primary schools in the city and it’d been here for a long time and that’s why the trees were gargantuan and lofty and belonging seemingly to the settings of old novels, classic tales of yore. In this case, there was a mini sense of theatre on this scene of mass failure, and so perhaps the masses enjoyed it all in a deranged way. For the adults, again: many of them didn’t have things like Sport’s Day when they were tot-age. They were old enough to remember corporal punishment when teachers were sadistic in a different kind of way. Each of them had stories about being slapped routinely by these seniors and these are the types of reasons why there are wars all across the globe. [Those men who led the terrific conflicts across the centuries often had these boo hoo stories about being regularly battered by their fathers whilst growing up, and, ehh, they sure got revenge on an apocalyptic scale.] … The day eventually ended. At 3 pm. The teachers and adults could all go home and tuck into their wine and meat and whatnot. Lots of sugary treats for the kids (losers & winners alike) to get them a bit high and change their brain chemicals so as not to deal with them soberly. Nobody was really sober this small side of the city … the south side where the neighbourhoods seemed slumbrous and forgotten from the rollicking centre ten miles off. The tots who had won the awards were all blushed and merry and collected all kinds of compliments from their folks. It’s often superb how flagrantly congratulations can buffer the ego, like any other type of gluttony worsening the state of the body. But, things are said; people say things; they mock, criticise and they laud: and it’s hard to pick which of these is the worst. It’s an uneasy thing to be a human, aint it, boys and gals … Consciousness seems so spectacular sometimes that it’s almost as if your skull might explode! and yet you’ll see your crimson brains fly all over the place from a bird’s-eye angle! Ha ha hee hee; the pulpy bits of your brain are all bloodily smeared across the walls, just as keen as any glorious bit in a cinema hall!

[slytherinwolf-16]

mmm maybe! I like the ideas of course :D I might be able to put them into considerations :3 thanks for those!

if you have any other peaky blinder references I could still in LJS lemme know also! I know your a fan of the show :3

also tell me more about your stuff, I’m curious >:3

Anytime! Glad I could give you an idea or two. Brainstorming is always fun with friends!

Also, for the references, and I don't know if you've already done/considered this, but the "NO FIGHTING!" Scene from Peaky Blinders would be amazing to see! Like, somehow they end up with Lupin's grandfather and the gang are just at each others throats and Arsene is just fed up with their arguing and fighting and just goes:

Points at Jigen "No fighting."

Lightly slaps Goemon, "No fucking fighting!"

Points at Fujiko, then talks to all three of them,

"NO. FUCKING. FIGHTING!!"

One of Arsene's servants walks by, brushing against his shoulder or something and he's just so fed up he throws them to the ground or something.

Jigen, whose been snacking on whatever was near him, throws a piece of food at the servant with a chuckle.

That would be hilarious to see fleshed out, lol! :3

Onto my stuff lol:

Gravity Falls and Steam Powered Giraffe

Gravity falls is in Oregon, which is somewhere in America, and Steam Powered Giraffe mostly tours America for their shows.

Mabel seems like the type to be into some weird bands and stuff and she gets tickets to their concert somehow. Dipper would immediately agree to go along because he likes the music as well and wants to see the Automatons perform in a closer manner.

They need an adult cause they can't go alone, so they ask Stan, who agrees but isn't too happy about it. Claims the 'new age' bands aren't as entertaining and real as the musicians of the past. Stan suggests asking Ford to join as well because he likes nerdy robots and Dipper goes to ask him.

Once they are at this concert, while everyone else is singing along and having fun, Ford is just documenting the Automatons and their life-like actions in one of his journals.

Eventually, the automatons are just in town for a bit and stumble upon the Mystery shack, where they then get proper introductions to the Pines family. Naturally, Mabel is fangirling, Stan is trying to get them to buy a bunch of stuff from the gift shop and Ford and Dipper are just grilling the band about how they exist and why they are sentient and a bunch more things.

Cue them hanging out with the Pines family for the rest of their stay in Gravity Falls.

Peaky Blinders and Steam Powered Giraffe

After WW1, instead of the military shipping the automatons back to California, where they are supposed to be, they get shipped to Birmingham in Britain.

They met the Peaky boys during the war, so Tommy is relatively chill with them and invites them back to Small Heath to stay with them until they get this misunderstanding fixed up.

Later, after hundreds of letters, they realise their creator, Peter Walter the first, their Pappy, doesn't want them back and isn't even reading or getting their letters. Rabbit ends up as an impromptu babysitter for all the Shelby children (Finn and John's kids), while The Jon hangs around the horses in Charlie's yard and helps out with taking care of them and The Spine ends up becoming part of the Peaky Blinders gang and helping them with 'work'.

Spine is kind of dark in this au/crossover, while there's the thing of Rabbit being trans and she's pre-transition so everyone is still referring to her by 'he', while Jon is just having fun, like he usually does.

More of this au on @steam-powered-blinders (a blog I also run)

Gravity Falls and Marble Hornets

The Marble Hornets crew is in a chase with the Operator, it's teleporting them all over the place. They end up getting teleported to Gravity Falls somewhere in the woods.

Tim is so concerned because he keeps seeing creatures that he hasn't ever encountered in the woods, thinking he's hallucinating. Brian is worried because Tim is getting more and more worked up. Jay and Alex are just running for their lives through the trees and underbrush.

They end up coming across the cabin the Pines live in and crash in through the backdoor. They are panicky and out of breath and Brian and Jay are trying to keep Tim from having a seizure right there in the hallway.

Naturally, the Pines come to investigate because someone just stormed into their house. It's all angst and chaos from there because Ford wants to go investigate this 'Operator' they keep talking about, but the Marble Hornets crew completely refuse to even so much as step out of the house because it's 'safe' and 'guarded against anomalies'.

[callsign-blue]

The dinner scene with Aegon, Aemond, Lucerys and Jacaerys it’s very tense, because there’s still that animosity from six years ago, obviously, but you can still see how Rhaenyra’s children have more maturity, when interacting with their uncles that puts the uncles to shame. Aegon, Aemond have this mentality to project so much hate onto their nephews solely because , for other reasons, Alicent is constantly comparing them in situation and continuously to Rhaenyra’s kids. Those emotions that she is holding in because she is queen, she can’t let these emotions rule her decision making.

I just find it very hypocritical and funny because when she’s in the room with Aegon it’s exactly how she was when she was younger with her father.

(“Think of the shame on your wife, on me. How can you keep carrying on like this,especially on a day like today?” “Why? What is it today?”*slap*)

*silence*

(Sniffles)

“You are no son of mine.”

“I did not ask for this I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to, and i try so…i try so hard, but it will never be enough for you or father.”

It’s very much full circle. Probably very much how Otto was with Alicent in the beginning and now it’s carrying over to Alicent with Aegon. And I can also see a little bit of Daemon in Aemond as much as the kind of rebellious side. I felt like he was also very hesitant to add his father into that too because it is very much all Alicent.

We actually only ever see the Viserys interact with the kids and grandkids, while in a more public setting or even with just immediate family. It was never seen as one on one with the children and so with that you can see that he is choosing to overlook certain aspects and not call attention to it unless it is any involvement with Rhaenyra or her kids. He has her on such a pedestal because she has a constant reminder of his basically true love, Aemma.(which I am referring to an episode 107 where he calls Alicent Aemma by accident in fromt of everyone. And if he could do things again, he would probably, maybe, choose her over the baby. Like how Daemon did with Laena.(Far fetched just hopeful thinking.)

“Final tribute to the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…hmm strong. Come lets us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

The dinner was very much how last episode was. The tension between the two houses, how it was the blacks versus the greens in the sense of children children acting upon it then the adults. It’s also was very ballsy of Aemond to bring up/mention the fact that both jace and luke in sentence with the emphasis of Strong within it.

Also very much tells you how Helaena is being treated by Aegon. Luke offers to dance with her after she admits that her husband clearly doesn’t want her unless he’s drunk so he shows compassion for her and it shows a little bit about how Alicent has a little bit more sympathy towards her with a hug after her confrontation with Aegon.

Instead of action, it was words that were put to battle.The last episode “Driftmark”, 1x07, we obviously see a shift and change in Aemond. From then on did not want to be pushed around anymore. He is acting more of an air than Aegon is. I bet we will see more of Daemon like tendencies him with the following episodes to come.

I feel as though Alicent does want some peace with Rhaenyra. But if she shows that emotion or swaying of side that the people that were behind her will go behind her back. I think that she truly does not want this at all she could care less about this she would rather leave, then have all this weight of the crown, and who succeeds Viserys by rightfully heir by ceremonial decree (Rhaenyra) or by political view (Aegon the Older). She was a decision by Otto as a distraction for the Viserys. But since he’s literally falling apart and not “right of mind” , truthfully, if he was given the right medicine, he could be of mind than the Maesters they have for him there. I bet they’re just literally giving him medicine so he could be incompetent. 

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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[silversatoru]

Can i regurst a gojo x reader smut where y/n is gojo’s ex girlfriend and also a strong jujutsu sorcerer and they get back together asdfghjkl 🥺😂? Tyy 🥺

hehhee yes ma’am here u are!!! i actually loved writing this one (i think i just have a thing for writing gojo lately lmao) anyway! i! hope! you! enjoy!

to heaven and back

gojo satoru x f! sorcerer!reader

synopsis: you and your ex, gojo satoru, beat the hell out of a few special grade curses and then head back to his house to rekindle an old (and kind of kinky) flame

tags/warnings: nsfw (18+), smut, handcuffs, blindfolding, little bit of oral sex, teasing, alcohol consumption, some fluff at the end? just a little

word count: 3.1k

You lifted your elegant glass of random wine that you could care less about knowing the name of, and took a long sip. All of these old rich bastards talked way too much about brand names, aging, and what cheese paired well with each wine. They were missing what was really important — which one would get you drunk the quickest. 

These kinds of formal events weren’t really your scene, and having to listen to a bunch of old, conservative, high-up jujutsu leaders was terribly boring — so why not take this opportunity to get a little tipsy? You deserved it for putting up with all of these assholes. After all, the only reason they invited you to this prestigious event was for protection. If that pesky band of special grade curses caught wind that all of the higher ups from both Kyoto and Tokyo were in the same place, they were sure to launch some kind of attack. The old, wrinkly douchebags couldn’t care less about your opinions of the jujutsu world and how you would change it, they only liked you for incredible cursed technique. 

And so here you were, spitefully wearing your most elegant dress and downing glasses of wine in an attempt to drown out all of the nonsense around you. There was only one thing that could make this event any worse and— 

“Hello everyone! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer has arrived — I know you were all looking forward to my appearance”. 

And there it was. There was that one thing that could make this event any worse. Gojo Satoru.

You dipped your head low, burying yourself in your glass of wine and praying to any god who would listen to not let this man see you. It’s been over two years since the two of you broke up, but he still wasn’t someone you enjoyed running into. 

Gojo was terribly notorious for having a long line of girls at his disposal, and with his incredible strength and annoyingly good-looks, it wasn’t hard to understand why. The two of you had never been in an officially committed relationship, and so technically Gojo was free to do as he pleased — but you were practically dating and your heart ached every time you caught wind of him being with another woman. And so two years ago you cut things off with him for good — you were tired of being the one he always ran back to at the end of the day. 

He’d looked at you with eyes full of pain that night, begging and pleading to stay with him. He showed you a vulnerable side to him that you had never seen before — and he swore to you that if you had asked to make things official, he would have committed himself to you fully. You declined however, because you felt like you shouldn’t have needed to ask for that kind of thing — but maybe that was just your ego getting in the way. 

“Hey, beautiful, I’ve never seen you around before, you must be from the Tokyo campus,” Some random assistant casually leaned against the counter you were sitting at and shook you out of your thoughts.

“If you’ve never seen me before then you must not be very important,” You shot him a distasteful glance, taking another sip of your wine. 

The man’s face lit up with panic — he must not have been expecting such retaliation to his pathetic attempt of flirting. 

“Are you bothering her?” A familiar voice came from behind you — a long, slender hand slapping down onto your shoulder, “Please don’t flirt with my wife”. 

“Ah- Wife? I’m so sorry, sir,” The man stumbled over his words, bowing his head to Gojo and scurrying away. 

Gojo wasted no time sliding into the seat next to you and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle you’d already been working on. 

“Really? You’re telling people I’m your wife now?” You gave him a deadpanned look. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass. 

You rolled your eyes hard, “Why are you here, Satoru?” 

“Same reason as you. The old, conservative pussies are afraid those special grades might attack — so why not invite their two prized sorcerers to protect them?” 

“Fair,” You let out a heavy sigh, “Not sure that was their best move though — I don’t think either one of us is very motivated to save these fuckers”. 

“No, but I brought my students with me today. So, if anything does happen, make sure you put on a show for them,” He winked, already topping off his wine glass. 

You looked over to see a few kids sitting a couple tables away from the two of you, chatting amongst themselves and wondering why the fuck they had to be here. 

And so an hour or two went by, and to your surprise, you found yourself laughing hysterically alongside Gojo. The two of you had definitely drank a bit too much, and your personalities complimented each other a little too perfectly. You shared the same terrible sense of humor and he had quite the knack for bringing out this lighthearted side of you. You had missed moments like this these past two years. 

Neither of you were paying any attention to the current debate that was occurring between the higher ups when a loud crash sent broken pieces of glass flying through the grand hall. Sure enough, the curses had made their appearance and came flying into the building through a now broken window.

“It’s our time to shine, huh?” Gojo looked over at you, and you imagined that his icy blue eyes were swirling with excitement under that mask. 

“Yeah, let’s make this quick,” You found a warm ball of excitement churning in your own stomach — it’d been a long time since the two of you had fought together. 

Your technique revolved around the manipulation of cursed energy and converting it into light. You could wrap yourself in a shield of light, send curse-filled bursts of light at your enemies, and move at the speed of light as well — which was almost as efficient as Gojo’s teleportation abilities. You had a series of more advanced moves as well, but those required more energy output and therefore you used them a little less often.

The two of you were both able to move so fast that the curses really didn’t stand a chance. You found yourself laughing as you flipped through the air, hurling balls of light at the curses as Gojo worked closer in hand-to-hand combat. At one point, while the two of you were flying past each other, Gojo stuck out his hand and gave you a high five, both of you smiling like maniacs who enjoyed fighting a little too much. 

Between Gojo’s Limitless and your extreme agility and bursts of light, the curses were quickly forced to flee. Both of you were feeling much too drunk and much too lazy to chase after them, even with all of the higher ups begging you to do so. Gojo simply flipped them off and stuck out his tongue, saying that he did what they paid him to do — keep the curses away — and now that the curses had been scared off, he was no longer needed. 

“You want to come back with me, relieve more of our old memories together? I remember how much you loved sleeping in my king sized bed,” Gojo looked back at you, offering one of his large, slender hands. 

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was your stupid, stupid heart, but you reached out and took his hand, “Fuck it, let’s go”. 

Gojo’s house on the outskirts of the Tokyo campus was just as you remembered — sleek black interior with modern furniture and extravagantly silky sheets on his bed — his same bed that you were currently sprawled out on, laying in nothing but your undergarments. 

Gojo joined you a couple minutes later, his bare skin warm and familiar against yours. He pressed a few sloppy kisses to your lips, both of you still incredibly tipsy and unable to stop the small giggles from leaking out between your lips while you kissed. 

“Take the blind fold off you weirdo,” You pulled at the back of the black fabric. 

“Mmm, okay,” He mumbled, undoing the knot and exposing his piercing blue eyes.

“So pretty,” You murmured under your breath — his eyes really were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life

His fluffy silver hair fell down messily over his face, a drunken smile stretched across his lips. His smile quickly turned into a devilish grin as he slipped the mask over your eyes instead, tying a tight not at the back of your head.

“This isn’t what I meant,” You droned, but you didn’t argue — you certainly weren’t opposed to being blindfolded.

“It looks good on you,” He slurred, his words messy and his lips even messier as he pressed them back against yours. 

The kisses seemed to last forever, and both of you were perfectly okay with that — your hands taking their time exploring each other’s bodies for the first time in far too long. 

Gojo’s hands worked their way up your back, tracing lines along your toned muscles until he finally reached the nape of your neck. His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, soft hums coming from his lips.

“I still have handcuffs, if you’re still into that sort of thing,” he mused, massaging his fingertips into your scalp. 

“Damn, I can’t believe you remember what I like. I thought my preferences would have gotten lost among the sea of other women you were pleasing,” You let the snarky remark roll off your tongue, though there was clearly no real spite in your words — you’re both adults and what happened then was in the past now.

“It wasn’t even that many,” He defended, “And you were the only one who ever mattered”. 

“I’m flattered,” You laughed, “Now, where are those handcuffs?” 

Gojo stifled a deep laugh, his hands leaving your hair as he lifted himself up and stood from the bed. When he returned a few moments later, there was cool metal wrapping around both of your wrists. He had two sets of handcuffs, putting one on each wrist and then hooking the other side to the bed posts. 

You were entirely at his disposal now, your hands secured over your head and your vision blocked off by the black mask. 

“I could tickle you right now and there’s nothing you could do,” Gojo observed aloud, pressing kisses up the side of your torso.

“Satoru, I would kick the living shit out of you,” You threaten, goosebumps growing under your skin. 

“Yeah, but you can’t touch me unless I let you,” He retaliated, his soft hands reaching underneath your bra to feel your breasts.

You groaned in response — his Limitless really did make him impossible.

He cupped each of his hands around your firm lumps, gently massaging them between his fingers. His cool fingertips then made their way down to your lower body, swiftly removing your remaining underwear. You were now completely exposed to him, chills running down your spine as you wondered what he would do next. 

You heard a shaky breath leave his lips, his hungry hands massaging circles into your thighs, “God, you’re so beautiful. I missed you so much, you know that?” 

“I’m sure you did,” You breathed, “I’m a wonderful person to be around”. 

Gojo let out a hearty laugh, and you heard what you assumed to be the sound of his own underwear getting thrown to the floor. A few seconds later he was straddling your torso, his warm thighs wrapped around your body. You couldn’t see it, but you knew his massive member had to be right in front of your face now. 

“Remind me what that pretty mouth can do,” He cooed, pressing the tip of his length gently to your lips. 

You graciously granted him access, parting your lips and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, earning a few twitches from Gojo’s body. You began to bob your head back and forth as much as the handcuffs allowed, a few quiet moans leaving his throat in response. 

He began to move his hips against you, gingerly pushing his member deeper and deeper into your mouth until you were taking the full length down your throat. He groaned and let a few curse words slide from between his teeth — your mouth was wrapped so perfectly around him. Tears pricked at your eyes and a couple rough gags ripped through your throat, Gojo finally pulling away and allowing you to catch your breath. 

After that, you felt a single one of his long, slim fingers slide into your mouth, and you wasted no time wrapping it in your tongue and sucking hard. 

“Good girl,” He murmured, plucking his finger back out of your mouth and moving it down to your aching entrance. 

Between the saliva on his finger and the slick juices around your opening — his finger slid in effortlessly. He started moving in quick movements, curling his finger up into your g-spot each time. A few light moans left your lips, your fists clenching in the cuffs as your yearned for more. His finger felt good, but you wanted the real thing — you needed it.

“Satoru, please,” You practically whined his name, a tiny bit ashamed for how desperate you were for him right now. 

“Patience, love,” He clicked his tongue and your heart did somersaults at the endearing name. 

He removed his singular finger and intertwined it with a second one before sliding them back into your cavern. He picked up a steady pace again, your breath hitching in your throat. Two fingers was certainly better than one, but the continuous teasing was just making you even more desperate to feel his member inside of you. You mumbled his name over and over, small pleads and shameless whispers leaving your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hands.

“No ones fucked you as good as I used to, have they? You’re horribly desperate right now” He clicked his tongue again, removing his fingers and moving them up to your clit. He rubbed the smallest, softest circles against the small nub, your core growing warmer with desire. 

“I won’t make you wait any longer then,” He whispered, sitting back and positioning the head of his length against your throbbing cunt. 

“Please,” You mumbled fervently, any ego or pride that you once had was completely down the drain now. 

Your pleads were finally rewarded, Gojo pressing himself deep into your tight walls. The immediate feeling was complete bliss, your head rolling back in pleasure as you heard a throaty moan creep it’s way out of Gojo’s mouth. His moans were so pretty — god, you’d missed the sound of them.  

He moved in and out at a tantalizingly slow pace at first, your hips bucking and wiggling as you made fervent attempts to make him go faster.

“So eager…” He shook his head, continuing to move at a pace that was absolutely agonizing — you thought you might die if he didn’t rail the hell out of you soon. 

“Please, fuck,” You gasped, “Stop moving so goddamn slowly”. 

“Your whines are so pretty, baby. Say my name and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” He murmured, his voice low and husky. 

“Fucking hell,” You gritted your teeth, “Please Satoru, please fuck me already”. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath, your words sending electricity coursing through his body. 

After hearing you say that, he was quick to give you what you wanted, picking up his pace and wrapping his hands firmly around your hips. Strangled combinations of moans, whimpers, and cries filled the air as they flew from your mouth. You didn’t care how loud or desperate you sounded, you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel. 

The two of you were an entangled mess of sweaty skin and throaty moans, Gojo filling your ears with praises and compliments the entire time. His lengthy member railed into you over and over, hitting that perfect pleasure point with each stroke and sending warm surges of ecstasy through your veins. 

Your bodies moved together in sync, your breaths aligning and your climaxes threatening to arrive simultaneously. After a few more firm strokes, you felt yourself drowning in pleasure — euphoria crashing through your body like waves. Gojo reached his end point just a few moments later, his loud cuss words and strangled moans filling your ears. 

The two of you rode out your orgasms together, and almost immediately afterwards Gojo collapsed next to you. He lazily reached up and uncuffed each of your hands, leaving the cuffs dangling from his bed posts just in case there was a round two in his future. He rolled the sticky condom off his member and tossed into a nearby trash bin, a relaxed sigh slipping between his parted lips. You peeled the black mask off of your eyes, finally able to meet his again. 

He was staring at you with eyes filled with all kinds of emotions — the emotions that he’d been too afraid to admit to the first time the two of you were together. But he wasn’t afraid of commitment anymore, he was absolutely certain about what he wanted, and it was you. 

“Stay with me,” He asked, his eyes pleading with you, “I’m ready this time, I promise. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me”. 

You found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you looked deeper into his eyes, “Of course I’ll stay, as long as you still feel this way when you wake up sober tomorrow”. 

“I’ll feel this way forever,” He pressed his head into you and mumbled into your chest, “And I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it”. 

You wrapped your arms around him in response, the two of you fitting impeccably together. He placed a few gentle kisses to your skin before his breathes began to slow. You found your own breathing to be evening out, your cloudy thoughts pushing you closer and closer to sleep. The two of you slowly drifted off together, your heavy breaths falling perfectly in sync.

[tiffdawg]

Everlasting | A Javier Peña x Fem!Reader Miniseries

Gif: @javier-pena

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T | Warnings: A little bit of angst but a whole lot of pining. Overall story rating will be M. 

A/N: My first fic update in months! How I’ve missed you all. This is just a fun little miniseries I’ve wanted to share for so long! This story is all because @miss-me-jack and I were dreaming about step dad!Javi (hint hint) forever and ever ago. A big thank you to @themilesgmorales for letting me ramble about this constantly and hyping me up when I needed it most!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Part One 

“Get dressed.”

Chucho’s voice was soft but the command was stern. Familiar. Javier narrowed his eyes at his father from his spot on the couch. He was still in the clothes he’d worn to the morning mass Javier had refused to attend. It was a Sunday afternoon and there was no pressing work to be done around the ranch and Javier had intended to do little more than polish off the six-pack waiting for him in the fridge. 

“Why?” he finally asked out of curiosity. 

“You’ve hardly left this house since you got home three months ago.”

“I’m retired,” Javier joked without humor.

“I didn’t let you move back home so you could sit around feeling sorry for yourself all day,” Chucho replied tersely. “Now, get up. And wear something nice.” 

Javier eyed him skeptically for a moment but, lacking a decent rebuttal and knowing deep down that his father was right, he acquiesced with a sigh.

… . …  

Javier slammed the passenger door of his dad’s old truck behind him as he slid his aviators to the top of his head and scanned the scene before him, eyes squinting in the bright spring sunlight. His dad had driven them to a local park, one Javier frequented both as a kid with old friends on hot summer days and a teenager looking for a place to drink late on weekend nights. In fact, he still had a scar on his elbow from the time you’d dared him to climb the ancient oak tree in the center of the park and he’d drunkenly agreed only to fall flat on ass. A small smirk played on his lips at the memory.

Now, a dozen or so kids chased each other around a brand-new playground while a group of adults looked on from the picnic tables decorated with pink tablecloths and a few matching balloons. The kid’s squeals of joy and the parent’s idle chatter was cut only by the light music drifting from a portable boombox. He couldn’t spot a single familiar face in the crowd. 

His dad came around the car, slapped a hand on his back, and pushed him forward. 

“Pops, why the hell are we at a kid’s birthday party?” he asked even as his feet led him toward the chaos.

“You’ll see.” 

“What the fuck…” he trailed off, hist question forgotten when his eyes landed on you. 

You looked exactly like he remembered. Effortlessly beautiful in a white button down and cut-off and at ease amongst a crowd. Politely excusing yourself from your current conversation, you greeted Chucho warmly with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Still a few steps back, he watched the interaction closely as the two of you caught up. More than that, it sounded like he’d seen you often over the years. It was a small town. Or at least that’s what he told himself. And even after all these years, your smile was exactly as Javier remembered. Bright and beautiful and irresistible. The kind of smile that set your eyes alight and sparked a fire deep inside his chest. He’d naively thought time and distance would fix that. Not for the first time, he was wrong.

Javier snapped back into his senses when he felt his dad press a small, wrapped box against his hand before walking away to join the party. That left the two of you. Alone.

At least you were still smiling. Only now it was almost bashful as you tucked your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and rocked on the balls of your feet. A nervous habit he remembered fondly.

“How long has it been?” Javier asked, unsure where to start.

“Oh, god... a decade?” you suggested with a laugh. Reaching up cautiously, you ran the pad of your thumb over the lines in the corner of his eye. “Too long,” you added softly. Before he could so much as lean into your touch a wicked grin split your face. “You got old, Javi.”

Didn’t he know it. He let his eyes trail the length of your body. “You look better than ever.” 

“Still a charmer, I see. Guess some things never change.” 

And just like that, the two of you fell into your old repertoire. 

“You have any idea whose party this is?” he asked, glancing down at the gift wrapped perfectly in pastel pink paper. 

“Actually, I have an in with the birthday girl.” You turned to the crowd of kids and waved one over. A young girl sprinted toward you and jumped into your arms. You caught her with ease but faked a groan as you hoisted her up, settling her on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t believe how big you’re getting.” She giggled, showing off her toothy grin.

That smile hit him like a cold bucket of water and his very blood seemed to freeze in his veins. That was your smile. 

“Your daughter?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. As ridiculous as it was, some dark, traitorous part of his mind that he couldn’t even begin to understand had the audacity to be jealous. As if you weren’t supposed to have someone else’s child. The last time he saw you, you were moving into your new home – with your husband.

He’d thought about you often over the years, usually late at night when the job kept him from sleeping and his mind liked to wander, to drown him with old memories and conjure up an alternative life where he was actually happy. He pushed away those dangerous thoughts as he glanced between you.  

Before you could answer, the little girl whispered to you loud enough that he could hear. “Mama,” she started excitedly as she tugged on the collar of your shirt, “it that Javi?”

Both she and Javier looked to you for an answer.

“Yes, it is,” you answered, sheepishly avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself wiping a smudge of dirt off the girl’s cheek. Something between his ribs constricted at the thought of you telling your daughter about him even after all these years. “Javi, this is my daughter Elsie.”

“We have cake,” she offered as a greeting. He raised a brow. A bit strange, but what did he know about the mind of a kid. He played along anyway.

“How many candles are on top?” he asked. Elsie held up three fingers and you gently corrected her. She tried again, this time proudly displaying four tiny fingers.

“This must be for you,” he said, holding out the gift. She thanked him politely as she gently took it from his hands with a look that could only be described as childlike wonder.

“Why don’t you put that with the other gifts and go play with your friends,” you suggested. She ran off as soon as her sneakers hit the ground. As you turned to watch her fondly, he caught sight of the small tattoo that matched the faded one tucked behind his ear. “Help yourself to some food. There are juice boxes in the blue cooler but if you dig to the bottom of the red one you might find a couple of beers,” you explained with a wink, oblivious to the thoughts swirling around his mind.

He nodded but before you could walk away, he reached for your hand. “How did she know who I was?”

“Oh,” you started, looking down at your feet rather than at him, “I, um, I still have that old photo of us at your dad’s fiftieth hanging in my office at home.” 

“The one where you smeared frosting on my face?” he asked, feigned annoyance lacing his voice.

“Yup,” you answered with a satisfied grin. Then you shook your head. “For whatever reason, she’s obsessed with it. Kids are weird like that.”

Javier had a copy of that photograph stashed away somewhere, but he hadn’t looked at it in quite some time. It’d been years since any memory of you didn’t spark a dull, burning pain in his chest. More than a decade. Still, he remembered his fake scowl almost as well as he remembered your brilliant smile. Hell, he could still hear the musical laugh that bubbled past your lips in that moment. 

“It’s a good photo,” he offered after a beat.

“Yeah. A good memory too.”

Your hand slipped from his but Javier followed without hesitation.

… . ...

With her infectious laugh and easy way of interacting with everyone she met and leaving them happier for it, Elsie reminded Javier so much of you. Two bright souls in a disappointingly dark world. In between games of tag with her friends, she charmed the adults who in turn showered her in affection. Even now that she’d blown out her four candles and the cake was cut, she insisted on helping you pass out slices to her friends and family. 

“Gracias, niñita,” Chucho said as she carefully handed him a plate. 

“De nada,” she answered cheerily. 

“Cute kid,” Javier commented absentmindedly as Elsie bounded off.

“Just like her mamá.”

“No kidding,” Javier scoffed. He then lowered his voice as he leaned close enough to his dad to ask the question that had bothered him all afternoon without anyone overhearing. “Where’s John?” 

“They divorced a few years ago,” he replied as he drank from his bottle of beer. “From what I heard it was messy.” 

Javier’s heart sank. That was the last thing he wanted for you. You were supposed to be happily married with a white picket fence – everything you ever wanted. That’s what he’d thought he’d left you with. Hell, that’s what he always told himself on those long, lonely nights.

A soft tapping on his hand drew him from his thoughts as Elsie offered him a paper plate with a generous slice of cake. 

“Thanks for coming to my party, Javi,” she said as she handed it to him.

 “Thanks for the cake,” he retorted with a wink. 

Elsie giggled into her hand and ran off to take her place at the head of the kid’s table. 

It was then he noticed you watching the scene with an amused grin. “You don’t have any kids?” you teased as you sat next to him. “You’re a natural.”

“None that I know of,” he said dryly. You made a face and he quickly brushed past his comment. “Never married.”

“So I heard.” Your tone lacked its previous playfulness and his eyes dropped to your fidgeting hands. Perhaps unconsciously, you touched your own bare ring finger. “If you’re free anytime this week, maybe we could grab a drink.” you suggested tentatively.

“Are you asking me on a date?” he asked suggestively, nudging your shoulder with his. 

“You wish.” You rolled your eyes at him but laughed. “I just figured we have a lot of catching up to do.” 

“I’d like that,” he answered seriously that time, earning himself another one of your sweet smiles. Before he could so much as suggest a day, you dipped your finger into the pink frosting of his cake and dabbed it on his nose. You suppressed a laugh while he resisted an old, familiar urge to kiss you. Javier was never meant to survive an encounter with you. 

“I’m really glad you’re back, Javi,” you said as you stood to rejoin the rest of the party.

“Yeah, me too,” he mumbled as he watched you leave. For the first time in the three months since he left Colombia, that felt true.

So he just ignored his father’s mumbled “you should listen to me more often, mijo.”

... . ...

Thank you so much for reading! 

... . ...

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(I apologize if I forgot to tag you – my taglists really need reorganizing!)

[after-the-shapes-and-beats]

Okay time for talking about ideas/concepts/trivia I haven't explored!! A lot is old stuff but some is new, lots of thinking lately lol.

Also a reminder you can totally ask me questions if you're interested in something I haven't mentioned or want something elaborated further on. <3

I was going to introduce Barracuda, Lycanthropy, and the other player shapes as characters, at different points and under different circumstances of course. I did post one concept of Barracuda, but the others haven't graced this blog yet. (Still have to finalise all their designs/redesigns lol)

Was going to do a lot of Q & Square unofficially adopted parent/child moments. Didn't have anything specific planned but just really looked forward to the potential fluff/angst etc. of it all lol

I was also gonna do shameless Square/Fresh shipping lmao. Its my story they can kiss if I want!!

Chip was gonna get a girlfriend. :)

Was going to bring up Qs past. It wasn't going to be super important/relevant in the long run, but it was going to be discussed.

I reeeaaally wanted to do some animatics. I'm not brilliant at that kind of thing but god I couldn't get them out of my head lol. Still can't haha. Especially one for the track "first crush" by Sabrepulse. ;)

This is a newer thought but I’ve been exposed to some new songs recently via my sibling playing rhythm games and GOD some of those tracks really made me go “I NEED to incorporate this into my jsab au somehow”. They slap dude. These songs fuck severely and I need to choreograph fight scenes to them.

A BIG concept I wanted to introduce was individuals having a "true song" (still workshopping the name) intrinsic to them that gives them their abilities. Square can hear them if he listens carefully. :)

Qs true song was gonna be a big reveal haha. It's not Close To Me. :^)

Considering the start of the blog was set approx. maybe only 1 or 2 months after the event of the game, there was gonna be a lot of Processing Trauma. Fresh is a recently rehabilitated force of destruction. Square just remembered he's basically god. It's all a lot to come to terms with haha. Denial can only last so long lol.

The main plot thing I wanted to eventually get to was basically "where did square come from and what are the repercussions of inserting himself among the mortals he created?"

I haven't pinpointed any characters' ages other than "around this area". Except Huey. Huey is definitely 17 lol. Everyone else is solidly an adult. Square and Fresh are mentally young adults. (Immature young adults, but still. Lol)

Before the game Chip lived mostly at sea, but after everything she decided to settle down to be close to her friends. :) She still spends a good amount of time out on the water, but she has people and a place to come home to now. uwu

Huey's special interest is flying/flying machines! When he and Square met in the factory, he was actually testing out a small single person craft he built when he got stuck.

Fresh is really into his creative hobbies. After knowing only destruction, creating is really fun and healing for him. :)

Q has a plethora of skills, most are expected because they live rurally and try to be as self sufficient as possible, but some are very out of left field lol.

Square likes dresses and being barefoot because of sensory issues, and swooshy dresses are very stimmy. :)

Sleeves don't agree with Fresh and his weird arms lol so he wears exclusively sleeveless shirts. God forbid he ever have to attend a formal event.

Fresh seems like the biggest source of potential angst, and yeah there's a lot there, but Square actually has more baggage of the two! While Fresh is up front about his traumas and insecurities, Square keeps all his stuff to himself. Fresh gets to hear a little bit but only because the two of them just understand and relate to each other in a way the others couldn't.

Aaaand that’s everything I’ve got I think!! I need to work on like, proper ref art and bios for the characters and stuff. Develop some underdeveloped aspects some more. I also need to shitpost more lol. Again feel free to ask questions or whatever!! I don’t currently really know how to move forward other than occasionally posting art so responding to you guys’ thoughts/suggestions for drawings or whatever would be good.

Love youuuu! <3

[dragonkeeper19600]

Jaws: The Musical (Concept)

So, out of curiosity, I looked online to see if anyone had ever adapted a musical from Jaws. There is a musical called Bruce that’s scheduled to debut in Seattle next year about the production of Jaws (and I would be interested in seeing that), but as for a musical of the Jaws story itself, I found one that’s for kids and about 48 minutes long.

Now, I’ve never seen this musical, so I cannot attest as to its quality, but, in my opinion, both of those choices are wrong. This musical should be the full two acts, and it should be aimed at adults. 

I’ve been brainstorming, and I think I’ve got a hypothetical musical all mapped out. You might think a musical based on Jaws is silly, but a lot of successful musicals have been adapted from really strange things (such as a comic book artist’s coming-out memoir, a crappy Roger Corman movie, and a collection of goofy cat poems), and I feel like a Jaws musical could be really epic. The story easily lends itself into a two-act structure. The first act is the shark attacks on Amity Island, and the second act is the hunt for the shark in the Orca. 

However, the musical wouldn’t make the mistake of putting lyrics to John Williams’s iconic Jaws theme. The theme would obviously be used as a leitmotif throughout the show, but it’s not the type of song that lends itself to lyrics, and I think that would be corny,

So, the musical would play out like this:

ACT ONE:

The movie opened with Chrissie’s death, so the stage show will do the same. The scene will be short and all dialogue, no singing. The shark will also not be seen, but its presence will be implied by the music, lighting, and Chrissy’s acting.

First song: “Welcome to Amity Island.” Functions as an intro to the setting of Act One. The tone is joyous and celebratory as the islanders welcome the flood of tourists that always come in the summer. A big portion of the song is sung by Mayor Vaughn as he sings about what a wonderful vacation spot Amity Island is. We also meet Brody, and a dark undercurrent is introduced to the song as he finds Chrissy’s mangled body.

Brody, of course, takes steps to close the beach right away, but he’s stopped by the Mayor, who sings the second song, “Summer Dollars,” where the Mayor insists that closing the beaches is bad for the town and that Brody shouldn’t be causing an unnecessary panic and causing hysteria that could drive tourists away. Brody tries to argue back but in the end, Vaughn has his way.

Brody returns to the station, apprehensive about keeping the beaches open. Here, we’re introduced to Brody’s wife, Ellen, who saw no problem with visiting him at work since nothing ever happens on Amity Island. Brody expresses his uneasiness, but Ellen assures him that his fear of the water is making him overestimate the danger. This gets Brody’s coworkers curious, so, with a little prompting from Ellen, Brody sings his first solo, “Drowning,” about his fear of the water. In the song, Brody sings about a childhood incident where a bully held him underwater at a public swimming pool. Not only did this give him a fear of water, but the bullying he received as a child is what set him on the path to become a cop, since he wanted to be able to protect people from suffering the same mistreatment he did. However, he moved from New York City because the working environment there was unfriendly to cops who wish to protect and serve instead of, well, being typical American cops.

Next song: “Blue Sky” Just as the Mayor wished, the beaches are open, and summer is in full swing. Brody is there with his family, anxiously keeping an eye on the water. The rest of the ensemble doesn’t share his anxiety, however, as they frolic and play in the sun. Brody is jolted to his feet several times by the sound of screaming, but it’s always a false alarm. However, the mood turns scary as we segue into the next song:

“Shark!” - While out swimming on his raft, young Alex Kintner is attacked and eaten. Brody sees it and screams the title of the song. It’s pandemonium as people rush out of the water, and the song is fast-paced and chaotic. However, it ends on a mournfully quiet note as Mrs. Kintner calls for her son. (”Alex? Alex!?”)

Quick scene transition, and we move immediately into he next song, called “Something Must Be Done.” Here, at a town council meeting, the townspeople argue back and forth about what to do about their shark problem. I imagine the music here sounding like the “Mayor’s Meeting” theme from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. Brody argues strongly in favor of closing the beaches (in song, of course), but he is shut down not only by the Mayor but by the rest of the townspeople, who still rely on the income brought in by the tourists. People throw around various suggestions, with one woman finally declaring that she’ll reward whoever catches the shark with three thousand dollars. The song descends into a cacophony as people argue over each other.

The noise is interrupted by the screech of nails on a chalkboard. It’s Quint who sings the titular song, “Jaws,” as he sings about his job as a shark hunter and how dangerous sharks can be. (”Those jaws will swallow you whole. / A little shakin’, tenderizing’, down you go.”) He offers to kill the shark for ten grand, not three. The woman who made the offer balks at the high price, and the Mayor explains that kind of money isn’t in the budget “right now.” Quint takes it in stride and tells everyone they’ll know where to find him if they change their minds. He’s supposedly addressing the room, but he looks right at Brody as he says it. He can tell Brody is the only one who will actually listen.

Many sailors of various aptitudes come to Amity Island, hoping to catch the shark and cash in on that three thousand dollars. Among the new arrivals is Hooper, who introduces himself to Brody as a marine biologist from the Oceanographic Institute. Hooper sings his intro song, “Beautiful,” referring to his views on sharks. Hooper recounts how he was bitten by a shark as a child, but instead of coming to fear them, Hooper walked away fascinated by them and now views sharks to be beautiful creatures. However, the song takes a somber note as Hooper is brought in to examine Chrissie’s remains, and the word “Beautiful” is shifted from referring to sharks to referring to Chrissie when she was alive. (“She was just a kid. / So much of life to live. / Now, bits and scraps are all that’s left. / Of a girl who was once so beautiful.”)

“Hell of a Fish” - The fishermen succeed in catching a large tiger shark, presumed to be the shark that killed Alex and Chrissie. Brody joins in the celebratory atmosphere, but Hooper examines the dead shark’s teeth and is convinced they’ve got the wrong fish. The Mayor and the fisherman who caught the tiger shark argue that this is the shark that’s been causing the trouble, while Hooper argues back that it’s definitely not. Hooper angrily demands that he be allowed to dissect the shark to confirm whether there are human remains inside, but Mayor Vaughn rejects his request. He doesn't care if they’ve got the right shark. He doesn’t believe a third attack will happen either way. (”We’ve got a hell of a fish to show. / And shark attacks are pretty rare, you know?”) 

This song is interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Kintner, in funeral attire, who goes up to Brody and slaps him. She then sings “My Boy Is Dead,” a slow, tragic lament about her son, Alex. (“He was just a boy. His whole life still ahead. / Now, I’ll never know what he would’ve been. / Because my boy is dead.”) Mrs. Kintner blames Brody for not warning the town after Chrissie’s death, and Brody takes the blame to heart. The song ends with a callback to “Hell of a Fish,” as Hooper bitterly remarks that he hopes Mayor Vaughn is right about the tiger shark being the culprit, otherwise there’s a “hell of a fish” still out there somewhere.

“Cloud on the Horizon” - Song is kicked off by a TV reporter, who delivers a brief story to the audience about the recent shark attacks on Amity Island. The holiday-making resumes on Amity’s beaches, but people are more nervous than before, The ensemble sings amongst themselves about whether they should go in the water. They finally do so with a little encouragement from the Mayor. Meanwhile, Brody encourages his son Michael to stay in the shallow pond.

“Shark! (Reprise)” - A shark fin is spotted in the water, and the ensemble takes up the alarm, scrambling while frantically singing a reprise of “Shark!” However, the alarm dies down when the fin is revealed to be a fake worn by a swimmer. However, a lone woman takes up the cry again as the shark is spotted swimming toward the pond where Michael is. The music ramps up as the shark takes down a boater mere feet away from Michael, and the audience gets their first clear view of the shark.

“Red Sea” - The song functions as a reprise of “Blue Sky,” but also contains musical elements from “My Boy is Dead.” Brody pulls his son Michael out of the water, unsure of whether he’s still alive. Luckily, Michael is only in shock. Ellen runs to call for an ambulance. As he waits by Michael’s body, Brody sings his second solo, loudly berating everyone in town, including himself, for allowing this to happen three times. All of the beachgoers, including the Mayor, are cowed by his song.

“(Can’t Find) a Good Man” - This is the first song between all three crew members of the Orca. Brody goes to hire Quint to kill the shark, agreeing to pay whatever he wants. Quint knows he has Brody by the balls and keeps upping the price, demanding additional payments like various kinds of booze and a color TV in addition to the ten thousand dollars. Brody agrees to all of it, but Quint’s one crew member refuses to go out after the shark, so Quint fires him. Hooper and Brody volunteer to go along, but Quint is reluctant to bring them aboard. He contemplates whether he should go alone, since Hooper and Brody will be useless on deck. Hooper loudly argues that he's qualified and “doesn’t need this working class hero crap,” but Brody is more gentle and persuasive. He reminds Quint that his own son was nearly killed by this shark and feels he owes it to both his family and the town to help in whatever way he can. Quint is won over by Brody’s humility and agrees to take them both on.

“Farewell, Amity Island” - Reprise of “Welcome to Amity Island” and the Act One Finale. Like “Welcome to Amity Island,” this is a huge ensemble number, this time centering around the Orca’s upcoming departure. Several characters come to see the ship off as Quint yells at Hooper and Brody, including the Mayor and Ellen. The Mayor apologizes to Brody (“I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. / My own children were there in that same red sea.”), where Ellen bids a tearful farewell, knowing she might never see Brody again. Brody’s sung farewells are intercut with a spoken back and forth between Quint and Hooper, as Quint snarks at everything Hooper does. The song also contains instrumental traces of “Spanish Ladies.” Brody and Ellen’s embrace is broken up by Quint as the Orca shoves off.

ACT TWO:

After the act two opener (which is an instrumental of “Jaws,” the song Quint sang earlier), we return to the Orca where Quint fishes off the stern, loudly singing “Spanish Ladies” a cappella. It sounds pretty good, but he’s interrupted by Hooper, who yells that he’s been listening to Quint sing for three hours and can’t take it any more. Brody has no choice but to listen to the ensuing back and forth as he chums the water. 

The childish behavior is interrupted when Quint gets a bite. He's convinced it’s the shark, but Hooper, still annoyed with Quint, believes it’s some kind of sport fish. Hooper begrudgingly goes to help Quint pull in the line, but a moment of inattention causes the line to snap.

“City Hands” - Quint berates Hooper for losing the shark and trying to tell a professional shark hunter how to hunt sharks. Their animosity finally erupts into an angry duet as they hurl very personal insults at each other, with Hooper calling Quint a drunken, senile sea dog, while Quint berates Hooper for being a coddled, privileged city boy. Their musical fight looks like it’ll get physical when Hooper snatches the beer Quint was drinking out of his hand and chucks it into the ocean. Luckily, Brody breaks it up, pointedly reminding them why they’re here and that they don’t need to be at each other’s throats when the shark will gladly do that for them. Quint sheepishly apologizes to Brody and only Brody. Hooper likewise backs down.

Brody returns to chumming the water only to toss a shovelful of chum directly into the shark’s face. The shark is right beside the Orca, and it’s huge. There is an instrumental score but no singing as all three men work together to try and bring in the shark. The shark seems unfazed by all the bullets and harpoons they shoot into it, but they manage to attach one barrel to the shark. Quint is satisfied that the shark will tire itself out with the barrel attached and that all they have to do is wait it out. Brody is all for returning to shore and calling the Coast Guard, but Quint ignores him.

Scene transition, and we’re in the ship’s cabin that night. All three men are staying up to wait for the shark, and they’ve had a bit to drink. Quint catches Brody examining the rope burn he got on his hand earlier in the day and reassures him that it won't leave a permanent scar. This segues into the duet “Something Permanent,” as Hooper and Quint compare scars. The tone isn’t angry and harsh as before but jovial and upbeat. Clearly, the earlier animosity is forgiven. 

“Those Eyes” - This is Quint’s solo about the sinking of the Indianapolis. Brody asks Quint about a scar on his arm that he hasn’t mentioned. Quint offhandedly mentions it’s a tattoo he had removed. When Hooper makes a joke about it being a “Mother” tattoo, Quint informs him it’s actually for the U.S.S. Indianapolis. Hooper clearly knows the story, but Brody doesn't, so Quint tells it. The song is slow and eerie. The words “those eyes” are used to refer to both the sharks’ eyes and the eyes of his crew mates as they were devoured or lay dead in the water. Quint sings that he still sees those eyes looming up at him in the dark of the night. He then catches the looks on Brody and Hooper’s faces and chuckles darkly, telling them not to look at him with “those eyes.” After all, they delivered the bomb. No one comments on this, but all three men have now sung their backstories at some point in the show.

Hooper quietly starts to sing “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” The other two join in. Their singing is interrupted by the shark ramming into the ship.

The crew scramble back on deck. Quint, his mind still swimming in the memory of the Indianapolis, wildly fires a rifle at the shark, but he only succeeds in driving it away, Hooper goes belowdeck  to assess the damage. The ship can still run, but it’s struggling. Brody loudly advocates returning to shore, but Quint refuses.

The shark returns, leading to the next song, “Barrels.” The song has a lot of dialogue and instrumental but also functions as a reprise of “Something Permanent,” as Quint gleefully proclaims his intent to leave “something permanent” on the shark. The crew manages to attach three barrels to the shark, but they lose track of it again. 

Quint decides that since barrels and weapons don’t seem to be working, and the ship is only becoming more damaged, that the thing to do is lure the shark back to shore and drown it in the shallow water. Hooper warns Quint that he’s overtaxing the engine, but Quint only leans harder on the throttle. The engine gives out. 

Brody goes to the radio to call the Coast Guard for help but is shocked when Quint smashes the radio with a baseball bat before the message can get out. This leads to an even angrier reprise of “City Hands,” now with Brody insulting Quint instead of Hooper, calling him “certifiable.” Quint shouts more than sings that he can handle it and he doesn’t need rescuing “this time.” The song shifts to the slower, gentler melody that was used when Brody calmed Hooper and Quint before as Quint tells Brody he vowed that would never be helpless in the water again. Both Brody and Hooper, who was heard the entire outburst, are struck silent.

“Beautiful (Reprise)” - Hooper somberly volunteers to be lowered into the anti-shark cage. Brody argues against it, but, for once, Quint is willing to hear Hooper out. Hooper sings about how putting himself in harm’s way is his only chance to the tune of his intro song, “Beautiful.” Hooper then admits that Quint is right, he hasn’t been through what Quint has, but he’s willing to try and prove his worth. Quint and Brody realize they don't have much choice and agree.

Hooper goes into the cage. Brody takes Hooper’s glasses, and Hooper gives them both one last look before he puts on his mask and goes under. 

“In the Cage” - Instrumental. While below the water (which is just another part of the stage covered in blue spotlights), Hooper tries to attack the shark with the syringe on the end of a spear, but he drops it. The shark begins to break its way into the cage, but Hooper manages to escape and hides behind some rocks, apologizing to the men above for failing.

Quint and Brody, of course, can’t hear him, nor can they see what’s happening below. Quint and Brody pull up the cage to find it mangled and empty. Brody is devastated, thinking that Hooper is dead, but Quint seems to be truly unraveling. He sings a shaky reprise of “Those Eyes,” this time obsessing over the look Hooper gave them before he went under. He frantically recalls that he saw the same look on the faces of his crew mates after the sinking of the Indianapolis. Tragically, the song also functions as a callback to “My Boy Is Dead.” (”It’s far too late for me now to take back the things I’ve said. / They’ll haunt me ‘til my dying day. / Because that boy is dead.”)

“Quint’s End” - Instrumental, spoken dialogue. Quint can’t get the last image of Hooper out of his mind and begs him to stop looking at him like that. Brody is alarmed as Quint’s pleas to Hooper change to pleas to his dead crew mate, Herbie Robinson. Quint has slid into a full-blown PTSD flashback. In his mind, he’s back in the waters of the Pacific thirty years ago, surrounded by sharks and dead crew mates. Brody tries to calm Quint down by reminding him where he is, but at that moment, the shark leaps onto the stern, and the Orca lists backwards. (In my head, the Orca set is on some kind of platform that can be raised at an incline.) Both men begin to slide toward the waiting jaws of the shark. Brody manages to grab onto the door frame leading into the cabin. He tries to hold onto Quint, but Quint slips out of his hand. Quint tries to fight back against the shark, but with a sickening crunch, Quint falls silent. The shark retreats with Quint’s lifeless body.

“Smile!” - Payback time. The Orca is sinking fast, and Brody knows that if he ends up in the water, it’s game over. Brody manages to ward the shark off with one of Hooper’s scuba tanks. The shark takes the scuba tank into its mouth, giving Brody the chance to climb onto the mast with Quint’s rifle. The music ramps up in speed and intensity as the shark closes in. Brody’s singing ramps up to match as he fires at the shark again and again, reminding himself of his promise to protect others and vowing that this shark will never kill anyone again. Then, with a final, bombastic, “So, smile you son of a bitch!” he gets a hit on the tank, and the shark explodes. He whoops and hollers as the music swells.

The finale instrumental is both sad and sweet. The sinking mast deposits Brody in the water. Hooper surfaces besides him. They laugh together, relieved that it’s over. Hooper asks about Quint, but Brody only responds with the single word, “No.” Hooper and Brody are close enough to paddle back to shore, so they do just that. As they set off, Brody begins to sing, “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” Hooper joins in. The curtain falls.

[officialscaramouche]

Traitor— Kazuha

The final ending to the traitor series! Thank you to everyone who kept up and supported me with your kind words! I had a ton of fun writing for this series, as it was one of the very few beginning prompts. Enjoy!

pairing: Kazuha x reader

wc: 1,395

tw: drinking

PREV |

The whole walk you were playing out scenarios. You’d stop to pretend to be both parties, act out the scene, decide it wasn’t good enough and then continue walking. You had spent hours out, the sun having gone down long ago. As badly as you wanted to go home, you also were afraid to. You left while Kazuha was vulnerable and virtually begged you to convince him that he was wrong. But instead of staying like an adult, you left like a child.

Kazuha was loyal, but he was also fickle by nature. It never occurred to you that he was capable of leaving until you had left him out to dry. And that’s what these scenarios were for. After much trial and error, though, you decide to just be candid and honest. If he leaves, so be it. You used to do fine by yourself, you can still do fine by yourself.

It really did suck that you had been so wishy washy with him this whole time. You had convinced yourself that if Scaramouche ever came back, you’d go running to him. But the day came where he’s crawling back to you, and you had no intentions of meeting him anywhere. If you had only opened your eyes sooner and realized how incredible and patient and loving he had been this whole time, then you probably would’ve forgotten all about your ex. And the two of you would be so perfectly in love. You hoped that you could still be perfectly in love as you reached for the doorknob. You could see that the light was off inside. Maybe he was still home— maybe he just went to sleep? Instead of waiting for you, though? Kazuha definitely would’ve waited. If he wasn’t here now, he wasn’t going to be back later.

You throw the door open and meet pitch black. The house was quiet, cold, and still. “Kazuha?” You call out, your voice echoing off the empty walls. You swallow a lump in your throat. “Kazuha, I’m home!”

You turned on the lights in the main room. The house looked untouched, his stuff still here. But it wasn't reassuring because he couldn’t be held back by material things. He could leave with the clothes on his back and be fine. But you still had hope that perhaps he was asleep or taking a shower.

You go into your shared bedroom which was also dark, but the light from behind you leaked into the room, showing you a made bed and still disheveled room.

The dresser drawers still lay on the floor, clothes strewn about. Your letter still lay in pieces at your feet, your files rummaged through. The house was so quiet and still that you could hear the buzzing of the light outside. He wasn’t home.

You sniffle as you stuff the clothes back into the drawer. You had tidied most of the room already, throwing away the pieces of the letter that ruined the last good thing you had in your life. Of course it was by Scaramouche’s hand, too. He was such a greedy, angry man. If he couldn’t have you, he was going to make sure that nobody did.

You get a hold of one of Kazuha’s shirts and the tears start once again. You sob as you clutch the shirt to your chest, blaming yourself for your own anguish. You brought the clothing to your face and took in his smell, clinging to the last bits of him that you could. You couldn’t do this right now, you thought. “I need a drink.”

With his shirt thrown over your shoulder, you snagged the shaojiu from the cupboard, not bothering to grab a glass, and made your way to the living room. Before you sat down on the couch, you took the first huge swig of your bottle.

The house was decorated in pictures of your shared memories. One of them at Wangshu Inn, where you met the cat that lives there. Another at Wuwang Hill, where you went to a haunted house together. Another of you and his crew mates, meeting each other for the first time. You take another large swig.

On the shelf there were amateur clay bowls the two of you made at Qingce Village, and his collection of leaves that he picked up along his journey around the world, framed and hanging on the wall. You nursed the bottle as you reminisce on each personal memory, your dizziness coming much sooner than later. You smother yourself with his shirt one last time as you feel yourself drift to sleep.

You dreamt that Kazuha came home. He walked in with a sigh, kicking his shoes off, and running to you on the couch. “My little leaf!” He called out, running his hands down your body. You couldn’t help but smile, wishing that this was real. You reached up and cupped his worried face. “I had been looking all over for you!” He took the bottle from your arms, slipping the shirt away too.

“Hey,” you protest, reaching for the shirt. “Give that back to me.”

Kazuha held the bottle up to the light to see how much of it you drank. “Honey, there’s barely a cup left in this.” He got up and stomped over to the kitchen, the floor shaking with each heavy step. He came back not too long after with water and a damp rag.

He wipes your face with the rag when you realize that it was startlingly cold, and strangely realistic. “Hey!” You sit up, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “Why does that…” Kazuha stared back at you with the rag in his hand. His eyes wide with confusion and brows raised. You reach forward quickly to touch his face, kind of slapping him to see if he was real.

“…Can I help you?” He asks, trying not to laugh. He reaches forward again with the rag and wipes your mouth. “Drink some water, please.”

He pushes the bottle of water into your hand and you fall silent. You weren’t dreaming. He was actually here. “YOU— WHERE DID— HOW— WHO—”

Kazuha untwisted the cap of the bottle and squished your cheeks, shoving the bottle into your mouth. “I said drink water, please.”

You scramble to hold the bottle, a little disoriented, but comply. “Where did you…go?”

“I told you I was looking for you. I was out there this whole time calling your name. I thought…you had left me for real.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes again. Your head was fuzzy from the wine and him being here made you even more lightheaded. “I thought you left me…” you sniffle, leaning forward and pulling him into a hug.

Kazuha melted under your touch, seeing the pain in your eyes at the thought of him leaving. He squeezes you tightly, burying his face in your neck. “I could never leave you,” he whimpered, breathing in your scent. “But…I’m sorry for how I acted. I…got insecure. I could smell him from the letter, and I just thought…I thought the worst. But it was stupid because you’re not like that.” He pulled back and brought your hand to his lips, kissing the skin on the back. “I trust you. And I love you.”

You pulled him up onto the couch, sandwiching you underneath him. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, lovingly. He was shaking under your touch as if afraid that he’d break you if he was too forceful. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper against his lips, pulling the hair tie out of his hair. “I acted like a child. I should’ve stayed to talk it out instead of leaving.”

Kazuha shook his head as he stared at your lips, his loose hair tickling your face, and eyes flicking up to gaze into yours. “You’re perfectly fine. I lost my cool.” He kisses you again, softer this time. “If you want to meet with him to find closure, I won’t stop you.”

You smiled, kissing his nose. “I don’t need closure,” you breathe. “I just need you.”

Kazuha took the water bottle from your hands and sat up. He untwisted the cap and brought the rim of the bottle to your lips. “Drink,” he ushered, kissing your cheek gently. “Your breath reeks of wine.”

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

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